Page 15 of Power Surge

He turns his laser focus back down the hallway, completely dismissing my ramblings.

Damn, I miss T and Trey. Hell, all the guys. Soon I'll get them back. I just needed these few weeks to get my feet under me and understand what power I hold over urging the director to change my alpha team.

Right now, I have to fix what I fractured earlier in my callousness.

Pausing in front of Taeler's room, I rap two knuckles against the solid wood door and swallow down the uncertainty rolling in my gut. A million thoughts cross my mind as I wait for the door to open.

It cracks an inch, revealing puffy red eyes staring blankly into mine. Leaning against the door’s edge, Taeler widens the gap and tilts her head inside the room. She turns to stalk toward the unmade bed without waiting to see if I follow.

I cast a worried glance at the agent to my left, then to the one stationed on my right. “Wish me luck?” No answer. “Rough crowd tonight,” I grumble.

Mental note: getting my old alpha team back has officially moved up to number one priority for tomorrow. If I'm going to make it through the next two and a half years without cracking under the unrelenting pressure, I need the agents with personality who understand my quirky humor.

Once inside the room, I quietly shut the door behind me and lean against it, keeping my fidgeting fingers tucked behind my back.

Lungs filled with a deep encouraging breath, I launch into my planned apology.

“I know I didn't handle your news well.” Taeler snorts, her back to me as she crawls into the king-size bed. “And I'm sorry,” I continue. “I won’t make excuses because none of them make this”—I shift a hand between the two of us—“any better.”

“Yeah, you were kind of a bitch,” Taeler says, her face downturned as she picks at a loose string on the embroidered cream duvet cover that came with the house.

“I'll take that,” I reply, sucking in a breath. Daring a step, then another, I slowly approach the bed. “I should've put you first instead of thinking about the perception it will give, but that was just one reason, one of the many reasons why… why this is a difficult announcement for me.”

“And you think it's easy for me?” Taeler seethes. She fists the thick fabric covering the bed and narrows an emotional glare up through her lashes. “I'm fucking pregnant, Mom. I'm still in college, Grem is… gone, and bonus, my mom now sees me as a problem instead of simply the beloved daughter I was just yesterday. I think this is all just as difficult for me to process, don't you?”

I swallow hard. “You’re right. It is, and all I was thinking about earlier was myself. I'm terrified my enemies, who are numerous nowadays, will use this news to their advantage. I'm worried about how the media will react foryoursake, not mine. They're vicious in their efforts to make us look like the white trash they believe we are, and believe me, with my past, I’ve given them a lot of ammunition to pick through. And I'm scared you'll live the life I did, always struggling and a step behind everyone else despite the effort you’re putting into life.”

The struggling ancient air conditioning vibrates in the vents as it pumps cold circulated air into the bedroom. The low hum is the only noise as the tense silence stretches.

“I'm scared,” she finally admits. Her shoulders round, and her head droops.

“I know. Believe me, if anyone can say they understand, it’s me.” Stretching across the duvet, I take her hand and interlace our fingers. “But we'll get through this, together, just like everything else.” My throat dries, making each word hurt. “Now, Taeler, I have to ask you something, and it's a decision you get to make and you only.” I clear my throat, fighting with the way to word this next question.

“Yes, Mom. I want to keep it. I want to keep this baby. His baby.”

A heavy exhale whips through my pursed lips. “Okay. Decision one down. Now on to next steps. I thought about it earlier, and I don’t want you leaving the White House for the initial checkup. Call it paranoia or straight-up helicopter parenting, but I don’t feel it’s safe just yet. I'll have someone schedule an ob-gyn to come here tomorrow to check on you.” I pause, the hard acrylic tip they’ve started to make me wear chipping beneath my gnawing teeth. “I have a full day tomorrow and the next—well, for the foreseeable future, actually.” I offer her a small smile. “But I'll make time for the appointment. Promise.”

“Mom—” Her voice cracks. “I'm sorry I disappointed you. I didn't—”

“No, sweetie. Come here.” A soft tug on her hand and she’s in my arms. My fingers interlaced behind her back, I rest a cheek on the crown of her head. “I shouldn't have said that. I know for a fact Chad's parents are excited to have a piece of their son preserved in the form of a baby who’s half him. We have to stick together like we always have. We’re survivors, you and me. We get through shit no matter how tough the road looks. Right?”

My head moves up and down as she nods beneath me. Pulling from my tight grasp, Taeler wipes at her weeping eyes and reaches toward the tissue box on the nightstand.

“You get some sleep, Tae. Today was a lot to process for anyone. Tomorrow we'll tackle the next steps.” A tentative smile pulls at her trembling lips. Tilting forward, I press my lips to her forehead. The bed dips as I push off the mattress. At the door, I look back over my shoulder. “Good night, Taeler. Everything will be fine. Don't worry about a thing.”

The wide grin she sprouts brings about one of my own. But once I’m outside the door, it immediately falls as the full force of what’s on my plate comes slamming back to mind.

“I need a cigarette.” Both agents shake their heads. “Does that mean you don't have any or that I can't?”

“Both,” the agent on the right says. “It’s not safe to leave the confines of the White House, ma’am. Especially for a smoke break.” His disdain and condescending tone rake at my nerves.

Asshat.

“The latter,” says the other.

I whip my head to the left and smile at the somewhat familiar agent.

“Good thing I wasn't planning to pitch a plastic lawn chair on the front lawn and light up. Do you have a pack on you?” He glances to the surly agent instead of responding. “Hey, it’s a simple question: Do you, or do you not?”

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