Page 12 of Go Deep

“Vince.” My dad’s voice startles me from my angst. He’s so pale against the stark white bedding, a sharp contrast to the vibrant colors adorning the room. “You’re here.”

I force a smile, my mind still spinning like a hamster wheel. “Hey, Dad, how are you feeling?”

“Eh. I’ve had better days. This wasn’t the best way to rally the press about my re-election. I just need these doctors to letme out of here so I can get back to the campaign. Not a great time to be out of commission.”

“There’s never a good time, but you need to rest. We still don’t even have all your test results back yet.”

“Actually, they just came in.” A deep male voice, smooth as silk, echoes in the room.

“Hi, Dr. Morrison.” Eva flashes a bright smile at the tall, muscular man walking toward us. My fists clench and then relax when the alarming realization hits me like a wrecking ball. He’s not into Eva. He barely acknowledges her with a return smile. Those deep-set brown eyes are fixated onme.

And now, so are Eva’s.

Fucking great.

Dr. Morrison adjusts his gaze and strides over to the heart monitors lining my father’s bed. “Senator, you’re a lucky man. Your ECG and blood test results confirm that this was a mild heart attack. The blockage occurred in an artery that supplies blood to a small portion of your heart. The damage is not extensive, and we can treat it with medication.”

“So no surgery? I need to get back on the campaign trail, Doc. It’s a critical time for the party, and I?—“

“Dad, ease up, huh? You need to take care of yourself. You just had a heart attack. Do whatever the doctor says,” I interject.

Dad’s reaction, though pig-headed, isn’t really surprising. He never lets himself be perceived as vulnerable or weak. To him, it’s a fate worse than death. And that alone speaks volumes about my own predicament.

The doctor’s dark eyes are back on mine, and then they’re searing a path down the length of my body. It’s downright blatant. And fuck me if my stomach doesn’t clench. Thank God, my father is more concerned with his work commitments than the sexual orientation of his doctor. How can the biggesthomophobe on the planet have such horribly ineffective gay-dar?

And guess who doesn’t miss a beat?

My sister watches me twitch under Dr. Morrison’s heated gaze until I pull my eyes away to study every floor and ceiling tile so I don’t have to acknowledge being the victim of a vicious eye-raping. Yeah, this is way beyond the typical eye-fuck, since I’m a non-consensual party.

Make it stop, make it stop…

“Don’t worry, Senator. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint your public. Just promise to stay local for a few weeks so we can monitor your heart’s response to the new meds.” Dr. Morrison’s lips curl into a smile. “And let’s lay off the red meat while we’re at it.”

Dad grumbles a little since he hasn’t gone without a steak in as long as I can remember. “Fine. I’ll do whatever I need to keep those yahoos from taking over my seat.”

Power-wielding, power hungry, and completely oblivious. I roll my eyes.

“So, Vince, what do you think of the rookies coming out of Ohio State this year?” Dr. Morrison’s probing eyes fixate on mine, and I tear my gaze away, searching for a new focus. The walls, the bedpan, the flowers lining the windowsill.

Anything other thanhim.

I rub the back of my neck and stare at the black plasma television screen hanging across from Dad’s bed. “Sanders looks pretty good. Beckman has promise.” Both of them will be sitting in my office soon enough since they were low-balled by their respective teams and need to protect their financial interests if they have half a brain between them. Just in case their dreams unexpectedly go up in smoke, too.

“Have you done any more announcing lately?”

Jesus, for a smart guy, this doctor sure is a fucking idiot.Am I not giving the “piss off” vibe? Or does he think I’m playing hard to get in front of my bigoted and clueless father?

I glance at Eva and she’s biting her lip to keep from snickering. Bitch.

“No.”

“I always told him to stick with the announcing gig. He was a natural.” Eva smiled. My glare is fierce. It’s powerful enough to sear a hole in the brightly-painted sheetrock, but it doesn’t stop her shit-eating grin from taunting me.

“Okay, Doc, so what’s the plan? When can I get out of here?” Leave it to my father to ignore the big-ass elephant in the room. He’s never addressed my failed football career before, why start now? He doesn’t need to say a word. I feel his perpetual disappointment.

Unfortunately for me, there’s no escape far enough away from his judgment and dismay. Nope, it faces me every time we’re in the same room, even when he’s the one in a hospital gown hooked up to heart monitors.

Dr. Morrison returns his attention to my father and rattles off his plans. A few more days of monitoring, medication, exercise, diet, follow-ups. Looks like Eva will have her hands full for the foreseeable future. And I’ll be the hell out of here the first chance I get. My calendar is booked solid for the next couple of weeks, and I don’t need to be faced with what could have been, what should have been, had I been stronger, more resilient, mightier…whatever the hell would have made him proud of me.

---