Page 80 of Enemy of My Enemy
Scott and Daniels shared long-suffering looks. “Yeah, I can get you private range time,” he said. “Any other impossible requests I can grant?”
“Go home,” Jack interrupted. “Get some rest. You did great today. This—” He waved his hand over the pictures on the counter. “This is psychological warfare. It’s supposed to shake our confidence in each other. Let’s not let it.” He nodded to Scott and then to Ethan. “You’ll find who did this. I know you will.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Scott offered his hand to Ethan, who took it, pumping once. “We’ll get started right away.” Scott walked out, side by side with Daniels.
Ethan turned the moment they were gone, wrapping his arms around Jack and burying his face in Jack’s neck. “I should have been there.”
“Hey.” Jack stroked his hands over Ethan’s trembling shoulders. “Hey, you’re shaking.”
“I feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff.”
Jack pulled Ethan’s face up, holding his cheeks in his hands, and stared into his eyes. That haunted, dark look was back, as was the gut-punch from before: failure haunted Ethan’s gaze.
It felt like a mirror of Jack’s own failure, the wrenching, anguished failure that had yawned wide beneath him at Evgeni Konnikov’s funeral. The failure of his duty as a president to keep people safe, and the failure of himself as a man to own up to his reality. To stop sitting on the sidelines.
“I need you right now,” Jack whispered. “After today, I need you, Ethan. I need my rock.”
Arms wrapped around him, holding tight, and Jack rested his head on Ethan’s shoulder as Ethan’s hands stroked up and down his back. “You always have me,” Ethan breathed into the hair over his ear. “Always.”
* * *
They sleptin the next morning, Ethan holding on to Jack throughout the night and then into the morning, clinging to his waist and burying his face in Jack’s back. When the sun rose, Jack rolled over and wedged into Ethan’s arms, nuzzling his face against Ethan’s neck.
When Ethan woke, he opened his eyes to Jack already awake, watching him sleep as he lay beside him on the bed. He smiled and reached for Jack’s hip, pulling his warm body flush against him.
“Morning.” He dropped a kiss to Jack’s nose. “How long have you been awake?”
“About an hour.”
“Could have woken me.”
Jack shook his head. “I wanted to watch you sleep.”
Ethan smiled but buried his face in his pillow as a crimson stain spread out along his cheekbones. He peeked one eye out of the pillow, the corners still crinkled.
“I love you,” Jack breathed. “I love you, Ethan. I’ve only said that to two people in my life.”
Shyness gone, Ethan rolled over, his eyes wider than they had been. He lay on his back, watching Jack.
“I love being in love with you. I love this. Waking up together. Seeing the sunlight on your face. Running my fingers through your hair.” He did. “Touching your body.” His leg slithered over Ethan’s, sliding between them. “When you smile, my heart skips a beat.”
Ethan smiled and took a shaky breath.
“I love what we have built. I only have to say I need you, and you have me. You have me, no questions asked. I trust you more than I trust myself, sometimes. I can look at you in the Situation Room and know what you’re thinking, and take your hand when I need to.” He took Ethan’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Or when I want to.” Another kiss. “Which I always do.”
Ethan’s lips parted, falling open in the face of Jack’s declaration.
“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” Jack whispered. “I don’t want to hide how much I love you.”
“We’re not hiding.” Ethan frowned, but he kept his voice soft, keeping the dreamy, still mood that Jack had woven around them. “I’m living here with you. That’s public.”
“Not public enough. We still hide from the media. Refuse to talk about our lives and our love. We don’t really seem proud about this, do we? About us together, or who we are?” The images from Evgeni Konnikov’s funeral, the rainbow flags, and the marchers had stayed with him.
“I’m damn proud, Jack. Damn proud to be with you.” He shifted, stroking one hand up Jack’s leg. “And I’m proud of who I am. I’ve never hidden it. And I’ve done my share of marching in pride parades.”
“I think I was hiding. Until yesterday. My first pride march was a funeral. I hate that.” Jack closed his eyes and looked down.
Ethan slowly stroked Jack’s thigh.
