Page 115 of Hush
They didn’t say much, just stared at each other. Mike bit his lip, trying to hold back his smile. Tom traced the lines of his face, the light bursting from his eyes, with his own gaze.
“Thank you,” Mike said.
“For what?”
“Putting up with this. You don’t have to. You could have any guy you wanted. You don’t have to be calling me and whispering like we’re teenagers hiding from our parents. My job… complicates things.” He frowned.
“Only for right now. Just because of this trial. After the trial…” Tom breathed in, deeply. “After the trial, I want to come out. With you. Tell who we need to tell to keep this above board. Winters, Chief Judge Fink, whoever needs to know. So we can do this.”
Mike beamed, smiling so brilliantly Tom thought his face would break in half. He could see Mike’s molars gleaming, his mile-wide Julia Roberts smile lighting up his whole world. Mike wiggled like a puppy, too excited to speak for a long moment. “Okay.”
“Is that all right? I mean, if it’s not—”
“It’s great.” Mike laughed, but buried his face in his pillow, muffling the sound. Only his eyes peeked over the edge. “Are you ready for that?” he asked, pulling the pillow down.
“Yes. I am. I want to be with you. The right way.”
Mike beamed again. “When the trial is over,” he said softly.
“When this is all over.”
They gazed at each other for another long minute, giddy as high schoolers. Until Tom yawned, his jaw cracking as he stretched. “All right. I’m turning into a pumpkin.”
“Get some sleep.” Mike blew him a kiss. “Night, babe.”
He blew a kiss back. “Night.”
The call cut out, and Tom plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and rolled over. He bunched a pillow to his chest, pretending it was Mike, and closed his eyes.
After the trial. Two things would happen after the trial was over: the world would be in shambles, on the verge of another war, or it would somehow right itself. Somehow, someway, through the twisted path of this case, through what was about to transpire in his courtroom. He had to believe that it would work out. That truth and justice would prevail. He’d do everything he could, every single thing, to make this right.
He had to. Because after the trial… he was coming out.
Chapter 32
July 27th
The trial the entire world was watching.
That’s what the news said, the perky, bright-eyed anchors reading off their script cards at five in the morning, before dawn’s first light had broken over DC. Tom, in that hyperalert space of too little sleep and too much caffeine, watched the morning news half in and half out of his suit. His tie lay draped around his neck, a sky-blue silk with delicate white diagonal stripes. Mike had given it to him, a present secreted beneath his pillow a few days before.For luck!his note had said, with a lopsided smiley face.
At six o’clock exactly, knocks sounded on his door. He grabbed his suit jacket and his briefcase and headed out, striding alongside Mike and behind Villegas. Villegas grumbled into his radio, communicating with marshals who held down all the exits and entrances, monitored the elevator doors on his floor and the lobby, and waited in the armored SUV in the Hyatt’s basement. Winters was on the line, too, listening in from the courthouse command office.
Mike slipped his hand into Tom’s and squeezed, lightning fast, in the elevator on the way down.
In the basement, Villegas directed four teams of marshals into chaser SUVs, riding as escorts in front of, and behind, Tom. Mike pulled him aside, to the rear of his SUV, and pulled out the bulletproof vest he’d had Tom try on over a month ago.
“It’s time to wear this.”
Tom swallowed, but nodded. He slipped off his suit jacket and let Mike help him into the vest. Mike smiled at his tie, his fingers gently running over the fabric. “This is a level three vest,” Mike said softly. “It will stop small arms fire and sharp objects. The armored SUV is rated to withstand armor-piercing rounds, so you won’t need a level four vest for the ride. And, if anyone has a high-powered rifle inside your courtroom, we’ve got far, far bigger problems.”
“No kidding.” Tom twisted, tried to get the vest to relax against him. It was flexible, a soft vest as opposed to the hard ceramic plates of a level four vest.
“If anyone takes a shot at you, or anything else, they’ll have to get through me.” Mike was close, too close, speaking almost against his skin.
“Are you wearing a vest, too?”
Mike nodded. He rapped on his side, over his ribs. A slight puff pushed out his button-down, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it hint of a concealed vest. “Your robes will conceal your vest, and it’s more comfortable for you to wear it over your shirt. You can take it off in your chambers. As long as you promise to put it back on.”
