Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
He laughs and turns to his two guards when we reach the car. “Guys, I need to chat with Lennix. One of you take the front seat with the driver, and the other trail in the car behind?”
They nod and split up accordingly. I’m not sure why we need privacy. The guys, whom I know now by first name—Bob and Kevin—kind of melt into the background, and we discuss strategy, schedule, and everything in between in front of them. Owen and I climb in, and he rolls up the privacy partition.
“That went really well.” I settle into the seat facing him and pull out the pad from my bag I use to jot down notes when he’s speaking. “There was one thing you said about health care that we need to clarify, though, before the Wisconsin rally tomorrow.”
“That’s what I get for going off-script,” he says, grabbing a bottle of water from the small cooler built into a raised table between us. “Should have stuck to the speech. Before we go there, though, I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
I glance up from my pad with a frown. “Doing okay? What do you mean?”
“Lennix, you were held hostage just a few weeks ago.” Even with the partition up, he still pitches his voice low. “You were back after a few days. We announced my candidacy not long after and hit the ground at jet pace. Of course I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Owen, I’m fine. I’ve been talking with my therapist some by video chat. She’s helping me process everything, but I need to work.”
I don’t mention that niggling disquiet of my soul, the restlessness of my mind. I’ve tossed those into the basement and locked the door so I can function. They aren’t banging to get out yet, so for now that’s good enough for me.
“Please take care of yourself,” Owen says. “My brother’s driving me crazy making sure I’m not wearing you out or leaving you alone for even one second.”
I stiffen. Owen and I haven’t discussed Maxim at all. In our last conversation about his brother, I said I wanted nothing to do with him, and now we’re in a relationship and Maxim is being all over the top, like I knew he would.
“I’ll speak to him,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I don’t want him distracting you.”
“Are you kidding?” Owen’s grin slides into a tilt. “It’s awesome. He hasn’t called me this much since he went away to camp in sixth grade.”
My startled glance collides with his teasing one.
“Maxim has never been the typical little brother,” Owen says wryly. “He never got that he was supposed to look up to me or depend on me to defend him against bullies. No one dared bully that kid. Even then, he was tough as nails. Our father made sure of that.”
I just nod, not wanting to discuss Warren Cade ever.
“I know you don’t like my father,” Owen says, “but he’s not so bad. He’s typical of his generation.”
“I’m sure the people who spat on children desegregating schools consider themselves typical of their generation, too.”
His smile dissolves. “My dad’s not a racist, Lennix.”
“Maybe he’s what I call not not a racist. All I know is he feels entitled to steal land that doesn’t belong to him, and it’s often from people who look like me.”
“He’s a capitalist. So is my brother.” He sits back in his seat and folds his arms. “They’re a lot alike. You know that, right?”
“Don’t ever say that to me again,” I say with a fierceness that even surprises me. “All Maxim’s life he’s heard that, and I’m dreading the day he actually starts believing it.”
“You just don’t want to believe you could care for someone who is so much, at his core, like the man you hate. Let me give you a word of advice.”
“I didn’t ask for advice on my personal life, Senator.”
“It concerns my brother, so forgive me if I overstep, Ms. Hunter.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks at me directly. “They may be estranged, but my father and brother love each other very much.”
“I know.”
“At some point, they’ll reconcile. They’ll need each other. Don’t make Maxim choose between you and my father. He would choose you, but he’ll need Dad, too.”
I drop my eyes to the notepad in my lap.
“Dad’s so hard on Maxim because he’s always seen his potential and was afraid he wouldn’t reach it.”
“And you?”
“He thought president of the United States was the best I could do, but he knew Max could run the world. Maxim’s his favorite.”
I’d concluded the same thing, and Warren’s florid face as he warned me off his younger son on New Year’s Eve only confirmed it.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, though,” Owen says with a wide grin. “I’m Mom’s favorite.”