Blocked (18 page)

My nose burned and my eyes misted over as I watched her misery. I felt awful for what she’d believed she had to do. I had a sudden realization:
my
judgment wasn’t what she feared. But
her
self-judgment was another matter.

Slowly, I crawled toward her. Red splotches marred her lightly tanned complexion, and a bead of snot leaked out her nose. She swiped her face with the balled up tissue she held in one hand. When I clasped her other hand, she looked up at me, her chest heaving.

“Who am I to judge you, Nina?” I stroked her hand. “God doesn’t want us to judge or condemn.”

She started crying harder, which confused me. I’d been trying to soothe her.

“I…thought you’d…hate me.”

I felt myself frown. “Then why’d you tell me?”

“I…don’t know.”

She seemed to regret what she’d done. Maybe she felt like she deserved my hate.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you…but I’m too tired to think straight right now. Maddie told me…you were asking what happened with Dane…I figured you’d find out eventually. And maybe I thought you should know what Dane did before you got in too deep with him.”

My heart fluttered. “What was his part in this?” I inhaled. Had he
demanded
that she get an abortion?

“He certainly had a part in me getting pregnant,” she muttered.

Duh
. “I mean, did he want you to get an abortion?”

“Of course he did.” Her smile seemed bitter. “How were we supposed to raise a baby with both of us being in college, playing volleyball—with his mother running for
president?”

What a nightmare. What would I have done in that situation? I wouldn’t have elected to kill my baby—
right?
I swallowed. “What happened to you and Dane…after?”

She shook her head and sniffed. “He didn’t want to be with me anymore.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I was damaged goods.”

I gasped.
¡Cabrón!
How could he have done that? Didn’t he have
any
morals? “I’m so sorry. I, I can’t believe he did that. I’ll try not to talk about him around you anymore.”

“Thanks.”

“Does…does the whole team know about this?”

“Amy—she was a senior last year—she was the one who took me to Planned Parenthood. And Maddie made up some story to Coach about why I missed practice for a while.” She picked at the shards of torn tissue in her lap. “I don’t know who Dane told, but I bet Josh knows. And his coach, Phil, looks at me different since this happened.” Her head shot up. “Neither of us is supposed to talk about it, and I’m sure it was stupid of me to tell you. Please don’t say anything.”

I paused. How on earth would I handle this bombshell without talking to someone about it? With a jolt, I also realized how this tidbit about Dane impregnating a girl then dumping her could help my Dad’s campaign. But Nina’s pleading eyes implored me to keep her secret, and I finally nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”

When she gave me a weak smile, I suddenly became aware of my exhaustion again. And hunger. I sighed and gathered my sore-ass body off the floor, feeling lightheaded as I stood. “C’mon.” I reached out and helped pull Nina to her feet. “Let’s hit the showers. I bet Secret Service is wondering where I am.”

As predicted, Frank’s bushy eyebrows lifted to the ceiling when I finally emerged from the locker room. “I was about to send a squad in there to see if you’d collapsed.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m surprised I didn’t collapse after
that
practice.”

“No joke.” He fell into step beside me. “It was hard to watch Coach yell at you like that. I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn’t grab my gun and shoot the man, just to get him to shut up.”

I grinned. Maybe having Secret Service in my life wasn’t so bad.

“But I could kind of see his point,” Frank said. “You and Nina weren’t clicking at all. Is everything okay between you two?”

“It is now.”

He gave me a questioning look.

I sighed. “She told me something that happened between her and Dane last year. She needed to get it off her chest.”
Something that rocked my world
. When he’d hooked up with Nina, not only had Dane proved he would never be attracted to someone like me—someone who looked nothing like supermodel Nina—he’d also taken zero responsibility for his actions. And, he seemed to be a creepy womanizer to boot.

“Ah” was all Frank said, but it seemed like he wanted to say more.

I studied him as he slid on his sunglasses. He patted my arm in a fatherly way.

We exited the gym, and I let out a long breath, thankful for the lack of media swarming our SUV. I never wanted to see another photographer again. Frank scanned the parking lot and held open the rear door, then climbed in after me.

Allison drove away. “How ’bout some lunch?”

“So they can take more fat photos of me?”

In the rearview mirror, I watched her forehead crease. “I thought Dane helped you feel better about that stupid photo.”

I glanced out the window. It was starting to rain, which made me want to cry. “He only makes things worse.”

Chapter 12

O
UR
A
FTERNOON
F
LIGHT
was sunny and smooth until we neared the Highbanks Regional Airport. That’s where things got interesting. Rain pelted the plane’s small windows, and winds buffeted my mother’s private jet.

“I thought they said the weather would clear by the time we arrived.” China frowned.

Brad blew out a breath. “One thing I learned on military ops: Mother Nature’s a finicky bitch.”

I tried to maintain my tough act, but all I could picture was the CNN headline:
Presidential Candidate’s Son Dies in Small-Plane Crash
. I felt the tightening of a Lucia-sized panic attack in my chest. My consternation must have leaked onto my face because Brad said, “Relax, girlie. Your mother has good pilots—they’ll divert to another airport if they need to.”

“I’m cool.”
Liar
.

China peered over the top of her bodybuilding magazine and smirked.

We bumped and dipped along. At one point it felt like a rollercoaster—but not one I ever wanted to ride again—and finally we skidded along the runway and rolled to a stop. I hustled to unclick my seatbelt before rising to open the side door.

“Uh-uh, Mr. Monroe.” China held out her arm. “You know an agent has to deplane first.”

I sat back down with a huff. Terra firma beckoned outside. The high-pitched whirring of the jet engines gradually declined as Brad unlatched the door and let the hydraulics push it outward, unfolding narrow steps down to the tarmac. He scanned the area before descending. Once China nodded at me, I got up to follow, and she exited the plane right after me.

The rain had lightened to a drizzle by this point, and an airport tech wheeled a cart of luggage around the wing. Despite my protests that I could carry my own damn bag, Brad grabbed my duffle and led me inside the small building. I made a beeline for the popcorn machine, dumped a fluffy scoop into a white paper bag, then chilled on the leather sofa while I waited for China to bring the car around. Free popcorn was the best part of these small airports.

The only person in the building was a ponytailed woman behind the counter. “How was your flight, Mr. Monroe?”

“Peachy.” I crunched on more popcorn, then turned to Brad. “What’s taking China so long?”

He frowned. “Why are you in such a rush? Classes don’t start till Monday.”

I slowed my chewing. Why
was
I eager to get home?

When I didn’t answer, Brad crossed over to the popcorn machine and helped himself to an overflowing bag. He plopped down next to me, and all we needed was a big screen to complete the movie-theater ambience. “Settle in—China’s gonna be a while. She has to scan the SUV for explosives.”

Half-chewed kernels froze limply in my mouth. “Why’s that?”

“Your mom got some more threats this morning.” He shrugged. “We’re beefing up security for now.”

“
More
threats?”

“You know those pantywaist jihadists. They’re not too impressed with a woman who wants to be president.”

My heart thudded, and I wasn’t sure which was stronger: my fear for Mom’s safety or my anger toward the sexist pigs trying to thwart her rightful place as president. “What kind of threats?”

“Eh, same old crap. ‘We’ll cut your head off and mount it on a stick, infidel.’ You know, terrorist bullshit.”

My face felt hot. “You think you could’ve told me about this earlier?”

“We typically don’t share threats with protectees. And now I see why.”

“Great policy, Marine.” Not feeling hungry anymore, I set aside my popcorn and took out my phone. I wasn’t in the mood for games, so I opened my browser. On the university’s website, I pulled up the syllabus for my social science statistics class, and I checked out the required readings. “You guys have to take me to the bookstore later—gotta buy textbooks by tomorrow.”

Brad grinned. “Already taken care of, Danester.”

“Yeah?”

“We got an agent to buy your books yesterday. And we’ve already mapped out the route to your classes. You just need to show up.”

“Will you do my homework for me too?”

He laughed.

“No, I’m serious. My stats and research methods classes are supposed to be
tough
. They’re weed-outs for psych majors.”

“Then you’ll have no problem, Mr. Four-Point-Oh.”

My stomach tensed as I felt that old pressure to maintain my straight-A average. I wished I could allow myself a B and get it over with. But Grandpa Monroe and Mom had both excelled at Yale, and they expected a strong effort from me no matter how many classes I missed travelling for volleyball—or campaign events.

I had to admit that a pass on the suffocating crowd at the bookstore
did
make the start of the semester slightly more palatable. And I also didn’t mind the agents driving me to class. I could direct my energy toward practice instead of wasting it by walking around the sprawling campus.

“Dude, where were you guys last year when I was a clueless freshman? I totally got lost trying to find my classes the first day.”

“At least Lucia won’t have to go through that,” he answered.

A smile threatened to show itself when he mentioned her name, and I found myself agreeing with him, feeling compassion for her once again.
What is my deal?

An hour later, we pulled up to the greenhouse.
Ugh, must be a slow news day
. Eight or so reporters and cameramen lingered by the gate, and China slowed the vehicle. “I’ll let them ask a few questions out here,” she said.

Next to me in the back seat, Brad shook his head. “Boss doesn’t want any interaction out in the open today.”

“That’s why I’ll take a question or two here and won’t let them follow us in.”

Brad’s attention was already focused on the throng of media outside the tinted SUV windows, and his hand rested on his weapon inside his jacket. “Make it quick.”

China rolled down her window a smidge. “Mr. Monroe will take a question or two out here, but nobody inside the compound.”

I waited a beat until a reporter asked, “Dane, do you support the student loan forgiveness program Senator Monroe unveiled last night?”

That was a no-brainer. I darted to unroll the back window, but Brad reached over to block me, shaking his head.

“But they won’t see me!”

“That’s the idea, kid,” he whispered back.

I frowned. This was the tightest security I’d experienced, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. “Of course I support my mother’s program,” I shouted to the interior of the car, feeling like a dork. “Education should be our highest priority, and we need to make it easier for people to complete college degrees.”