In Love and Diplomacy

Chapter Thirty-Four: Almost, Maybe

"Heaven can wait, we're only watching the skies
Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst
Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?
Let us die young or let us live forever
We don't have the power, but we never say never"

- Alphaville, "Forever Young"

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kennedy once joked that for someone in politics, I was as self-sacrificing as I was cutthroat. I'd laughed and agreed, but it'd nagged me even then. Many times, I'd wondered what she'd meant. How it was possible to be described as both?

Now, I was starting to understand what she'd meant, as I pushed open the pool gate. Reed followed behind, still a thundering storm in the bright light of the morning sun. Neither of us had anything left to say.

That was probably a stupid thing to do. You literally just argued for the person who saved your life to go away. While you're on the run. While you're possibly being targeted. While people could be trying to kill you. I mean, if there was a prize for stupidity, send the other contestants home. Your dumbass wins that award.

I led us into the hall, shuddering as the strong air conditioning clashed with the remaining droplets on my skin. Reed's phone once again performed its song of disruption. I glanced back at him, curses of mothers and sons tumbling under his breath as he jostled the phone.

"Sterling," he grumbled. He fell into pace with me as we walked towards our rooms. I kept my eyes on the carpet, the repeating pattern swirling and predictable.

"What? How?"

I immediately looked up as he demanded explanation from the phone. He shot a quizzical look back at me before his expression hardened.

I hate his phone. I hate these calls. Every time it rings I'm convinced it's another reason for him to leave me.

We paused outside my room. I reached for the handle, but his hand shot out to stop me before I could grab it. He listened for a moment more before he stepped to his own door, guiding me in with him. He hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. I hovered, unsure in the small entranceway.

Why doesn't he want me to go to my room? I'm freaking freezing. Accuse me of attempted murder so I can go change, Sterling.

His hand rubbed his face.

"That was Simon."

"Is Rolo okay? Is Kennedy okay? Oh, God, don't tell her I asked about Rolo first," I burst out immediately.

"They're fine," he interrupted. "The safehouses have been compromised."

My brain stuttered, cut off from its panicky spiral about my dog and friend, and began to spin in a different direction. First Quentin had tried to pull him off the case, and now minutes later Reed was told the safehouses were compromised?

"Does Quentin know?"

"I don't know. If not, he's finding out now."

"I—"

"I'm not going. Especially not now," Reed said, cutting me off. His expression was fierce and dark. I paused at his challenge.

"I know," I admitted. He looked confounded at my answer, but he composed himself quickly.

"Something isn't adding up."

"I know."

Something hadn't been adding up for a while, but I was bad at math. I was paranoid and anxious and I didn't know what was simply me and my doubts. Truthfully, I'd wondered if we were missing something since the night Reed opened up to me. But I'd buried it down, refusing to say anything for fear I was overthinking or being irrational. I was starting to realize that wasn't the case.