Interlude- First Noel Page 2

  Exhaling, Jack tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Pete waited.

  Unease rumbled in Jack’s gut. Coming out about him and Ethan had been the right thing to do. The honorable thing for Ethan’s memory, when Jack thought he was gone, and for everything they had become together. He wasn’t about to kick what they’d started, what they’d discovered, to the curb because it was politically expedient after Ethan’s supposed death. He had started a real relationship with Ethan, and he’d meant it when he said he didn’t care what the media, or the world, thought. He’d just wanted to fall in love with Ethan.

  The agony of losing Ethan rubbed against the fatalistic pessimism he’d wallowed in after Ethiopia. It hadn’t mattered that the country was in shock because of him. That Russia had distanced herself from their almost-alliance faster than the Iron Curtain had descended. That overnight, he’d gone from a promising potential to a late-night comedy sketch.

  And then Ethan had come back.

  And the world started to turn again.

  It was different, trying to love Ethan in the spotlight instead of in their secreted, protected world from before. The media glare had intensified a thousandfold. Ethan had been stalked around DC, and reporters had hovered outside his condo before he transferred to Iowa. And then, when he did make the move, the media circus followed him. He lived in a small, secured apartment, set up specifically for government employees on long temporary duty, and the media lingered just beyond the gates. Camped outside the Federal Building in downtown Des Moines. Stalked him in the grocery stores. Tailed his car.

  And everyone was trying to shove Jack into a place he didn’t belong.

  He wasn’t stepping out of a closet. He wasn’t admitting that he’d always desired men, had kept something hidden his whole life. That wasn’t what he felt. And he wasn’t trying to change the world. He just wanted to love Ethan, and no one seemed to accept that. Everyone wanted something from him, some kind of statement or stance or public commitment. Something that tried to politicize his personal life, and his love.

  Hell, Jack didn’t even know what to call himself. The world had decided on “Gay President of the United States”, which wasn’t right, but Jack couldn’t get his brain started to figure out what was correct. He’d fallen for Ethan, so was he now open to falling for any man? That thought derailed quickly. He couldn’t think about any person other than Ethan, man or woman. He didn’t want to imagine the possibility that they wouldn’t work out.

  But maybe this was something new about himself. Something he hadn’t known he was, all these years. So, he had tried to surreptitiously scope out some of the more attractive men working at the White House. The Marine Corps guards and the attachés in the Situation Room. One or two of the political directors. He’d let his eyes linger on their shoulders, their waists, their asses.

  Nothing.

  But when he thought about Ethan’s shoulders, the flex of his muscles when he was working out, or the long lines of his tight thighs, his strong, rounded ass and trim waist―

  Well, he’d learned he couldn’t let his mind wander in Cabinet meetings any longer. There were only so many times he could ask someone to stay after for a sidebar conversation while he desperately tried to will his erection back down.

  Was it just Ethan? Just their lives crashing into one another and the forced isolation of the White House mixed with the intensity of presidential protection creating a perfect cauldron for their feelings to develop?

  Though, his sexual attraction to Ethan hadn’t developed until after Ethan had kissed him and the possibility had been planted in his brain. Was he sexually attracted to Ethan because he’d already fallen for him, in a way? Was their close friendship a bridge to his heart and his love?

  How did he simplify who he was and how he felt to one word, one phrase? Was it even possible?

  What was true was this: he’d taken a risk, the biggest risk he’d ever taken in his life, and everything that came after had made him, on the one hand, the happiest he’d ever been, and on the other, the most frustrated and irate he’d ever been, too.

  He was madly in love with Ethan. That, at the end of the day, was true.

  “Can’t we focus on something else?” Jack sighed, one hand scrubbing over his face. “Anything else? The country has been through a major shock. We’re getting ready to go to war. I’m off to the UN to try to build an alliance for the first time in twenty years. There are people we need to honor. Victims of these terrorists, of Madigan, and a world that did nothing for too long.” Jack shook his head. “Those are the real issues. It’s not all about me. It can’t be. I’m not that interesting.”

  Pete chewed on his lip, his eyebrows slowly rising as Jack spoke.

  Jack exhaled. “All right. Hit me.”

  “You and Mr. Reichenbach are also a real issue. You’re the first out―”

  Jack groaned.

  “First out president, and you started a relationship while in the White House. It’s news. Everyone wants to know more.”

  “Great. My first big achievement. Uniting the people in their fascination with my sex life.”

  “You’re a lot of things to a lot of people. Crazy, deranged―” Pete grinned as Jack chuckled. “And inspirational,” he finished.

  “Oh, don’t make me feel worse. Please.”

  “You want your private life private. I get it. I’m just not sure that it’s realistic.” Pete’s gaze softened.

  “It has to be,” Jack breathed. “Ethan’s suffering too much as it is. He’s not a part of this media circus like you and I are. His whole job was to stay out of the spotlight.”

  “Speaking of him. Des Moines news media picked him up at an arrest today. The Secret Service was catching some counterfeiters. They spotted Mr. Reichenbach and chased his car down. National media is playing the clip over and over.”

  Jack cupped his hands over his face. “He doesn’t deserve this. God… I just want to be with him, our way, in private, and dedicate everything else I have and am to this office. Can’t that be enough?”

  Pete smiled tightly. “We can try, Mr. President.”

  “You once told me that I should minimize this. Toss it aside, act like it was meaningless. ‘Do a Clinton,’ you said. Now you think I’m inspirational?”

  “I… didn’t know how much it meant to you. You and him, I mean.” Pete cleared his throat. “You weren’t saying much at the time and no one really knew anything. Jeff, uhh, seemed to know a bit.” Pete coughed and talked fast, getting past Jeff Gottschalk’s name in a hurry as Jack glared. “But I didn’t know what Reichenbach meant to you until you told the world you guys were in love.” Pete shrugged. “But you did. You changed the world in forty-five seconds. And now we have to work with that.”

  “Do you want to?”

  Pete stared at Jack. “Do I want to…”

  “This isn’t what you signed up for,” Jack said softly. “You joined my team when I was in the Senate because you knew I was going to make a run for the White House. You wanted to be the White House press secretary, and you worked your ass off, Pete. You did.” Jack smiled but looked down, one foot scuffing against the floor. “I think I broke a lot of people’s dreams when I said what I said. I put all of us in a whole new world. None of you asked for this. We’re on our heels now. Eight years has gone down to the next three.” He looked up, an apology in his eyes. “You wanted to announce peace in the Middle East, a renewed America, and a stronger world. Now you’re dodging questions about my sex life.”

  “At least, no joke, thirty times a day. You should really see some of these questions.” Pete whistled, and his tone was serious, but he broke into a smile, chuckling. He calmed a moment later, closing his padfolio and holding it over his chest. “Mr. President, I wanted to be part of a team that was going to change the world. I knew you were that man. That you would be the president to do the next great thing.” He shrugged again. “So it’s not the way I imagined. But I am a part of something amazing. Something
I am damn proud to represent.”

  Slowly, Jack smiled. “Thanks. Thank you. I’m… really glad you’re here.”

  Pete held out his hand. Jack took it, gripping tight. A moment later, he and Pete pulled back at the same time, snapping and pointing at each other in unison. It had started as a joke, but they kept doing it along the campaign trail, all the way up to the day they moved into the White House. Now, almost a year later, their ritual made a comeback. Jack laughed.

  “You should get going, Mr. President. It’s almost nine.”

  Jack pushed off the desk and pulled out his phone to check the time. “That it is!” Grinning, he flipped his folders closed and grabbed his suit jacket. “I’ve got to get ready for my date.”

  3

  Des Moines

  Ethan plopped down in front of his computer and logged in to Skype ten minutes early. He had a beer next to the keyboard and a bag of ice resting on the knuckles of his right hand, hidden out of sight in his lap. In the gym, he’d pummeled the punching bag until his knuckles had split and stained his wraps, and one of the other agents had pulled him back from going even harder.

  He’d showered at his apartment, made a sandwich, and sat at his desk to wait for Jack’s call.

  Butterflies tangled in his stomach, each and every time. Three months they’d been doing the same routine, and still, Ethan wondered when it would all start to fade. When Jack wouldn’t make the call. Or when he would realize that he really didn’t want to put up with all the crap that loving Ethan brought.

  At five minutes to eight, his computer chimed. Jack calling, and he was early.

  His throat clenched as he ran his fingers through his damp hair and straightened in his seat. He’d obsessed over the angle of the monitor for the first call, stacking it up on books until he thought it looked right, and he didn’t look too tired, or the angle didn’t highlight the gray poking through at his temples. God, he wasn’t used to being the young one.

  He never knew what to wear. Jack had seen him in a suit every day at the White House. Should he be casual? He didn’t want Jack to think he didn’t care enough to not look good for him. Shirtless? Was that too forward? Maybe not for another guy, but Jack wasn’t just anyone. He settled on a shirt that was a bit too tight, wriggling into it, and his boxers. Jack wouldn’t see below the waist. They didn’t do that. Jack was classy. And Ethan didn’t push his luck.

  Clearing his throat, he clicked to answer, smiling nervously.

  Jack’s brilliant grin filled his screen. He was sitting on his bed in the Residence, one leg tucked up to his chest, dressed down in his suit pants and his white T-shirt. He was tired; Ethan could tell. He had his reading glasses on and the very beginnings of dark circles beneath his eyes.

  Jack was gorgeous. He made Ethan’s heart skip faster, made his body burn. “Hey,” he breathed. And just like that, he was finally smiling, for real.

  “Hey you.” Jack tugged his laptop closer; the screen wobbled and then resettled, Jack’s face closer to the camera. His eyes dropped to the center of the screen, seeming to linger over Ethan’s chest and shoulders. “How was your day?” he asked, dragging his gaze back up to Ethan’s face.

  “Good.” Ethan shrugged. His knuckles stung beneath the ice baggie.

  “Did you get your warrant? Catch the bad guys you’ve been chasing?”

  Ethan chuckled. He looked down, rolling a pen over his desk. “Yeah, the team got the warrant this morning. Busted in on the counterfeiters in the motel room they were living out of.” He left out how he’d had to turn over the whole investigation to a man twelve years his junior, a newbie to the Secret Service. Frowning, he cleared his throat. “The, ah, media found me at the scene. I didn’t get out in time.” He snorted. “Des Moines Secret Service financial crimes investigations have never made the national news, until now.” Silence. He looked up.

  Jack was gazing at him, an apology in his eyes. “I saw the clip. I’m sorry, Ethan.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “You don’t deserve to be hounded like that. I wish everyone would ignore us.”

  Ethan looked away.

  “If we keep ignoring them, maybe they’ll give up?” Jack smiled hopefully.

  “We can try.”

  “Let’s be boring.” Jack winked. “Let’s be really, really boring.”

  “You couldn’t be boring if you tried.” Ethan laughed. “It’s not in you.”

  “I can do anything I set my mind to. I’m sure I could figure out how to be boring. I’ll just ask Senator Bryant.” He winked again. “Or Congressman Wills.”

  Laughing again, Ethan felt some of the day’s tension uncoil from between his shoulders. “What about you? How was your day?”

  Sighing, Jack scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. Dirty-blond and brunet strands stuck up at crazy angles. “Oh, just trying to figure out how to put together the right proposal for the invasion force when I go to the UN next week. General Bradford and the Joint Chiefs were war-gaming today, presenting me with… God, too many options. They have a model for every possible country joining us. Did you know that?”

  “We all like to be thorough when we’re presenting you with options.” It was Ethan’s turn to wink.

  “It’s too much.” Jack pitched sideways on the bed, dragging his laptop with him. He propped himself up on his elbow, staring at the camera and Ethan. “I’m going to talk to President Puchkov about his offer. A combined Russian-American invasion force? A joint operation? And he wants us to take it to the UN together? I almost can’t believe it. He brought me a glass of champagne and a red folder with this proposal tucked in at the G20’s closing reception. Said it was for me to read later and walked away. Classic Russian style.”

  “Could it be a trap?” Ethan frowned. President Puchkov hadn’t been the most amazing world leader to Jack in his first year. Taunts before the NATO Summit in Prague and then a tentative alliance ripped away after Jack’s revelation about their relationship.

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s his attempt to rebuild what we were doing before. We haven’t really spoken much at all since―” Jack shrugged.

  Ethan squirmed. Jack never put words to describe what the press conference outing him and Jack was.

  “But a joint deployment to combat the Caliphate, and under the auspices of the UN? That’s about as public an alliance and a commitment as you can get these days in global politics.” Jack shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe it’s his way of reaching out.”

  Jack had been at the G20 Summit the week before―the week of Thanksgiving―mixing and mingling with his fellow world leaders. It was his first international trip since their relationship became public knowledge, and everyone had wondered what the world’s reactions would be. Newspapers speculated on who would shake his hand and who would not. Scott, Ethan’s best friend and head of Jack’s Secret Service detail after Ethan’s transfer-in-exile, had endlessly bitched about the security nightmare over the phone to Ethan.

  And Ethan had chewed his nails to nubs, watching Jack on TNN on his phone at his Des Moines office and obsessing over the headlines from the Summit. His fellow agents saw him watching the livestream in the breakroom, huddled over a cup of coffee and his cell with headphones jammed deep in his ears. They steered away from him, saying nothing.

  He and Jack had lost the weekend before and the weekend after the G20, and all of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was an American holiday, and the G20 did not care about such things when planning their meeting. But, Jack had ordered a family-style Thanksgiving dinner for his entire staff while on the trip, and he’d Skyped Ethan from their long table as everyone ate. Scott and Daniels had made faces at him in between bites. Even Welby had cracked a tiny grin. It had been so Jack, so effortlessly warm and thoughtful.

  Ethan had eaten leftover cold pizza and watched football in between waiting for texts.

  Jack came back to the US on a Saturday and went straight to Texas, spending one night
with his parents in the Austin suburbs. Sunday, three days ago, he flew back to DC.

  Loneliness pitted Ethan’s heart. They hadn’t been apart this much ever, not since Ethan’s fight back from the grave after Ethiopia. He missed Jack, and he missed his friends. His old life. Everything he’d known, for over a decade, had been wrapped up in DC and in the White House.

  He tried to push away the creeping sense of isolation as he and Jack kept chatting back and forth, moving from politics to White House gossip.

  “Oh!” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “Jeannette, that blonde reporter from the Herald? She got engaged to Benjamin in the Domestic Policy section today. He did it in the briefing room.”

  “Really?” Ethan grinned. “Poor Vinny.”

  “Vinny?”

  “Secret Service. Vinny Brewsky. Good guy from Brooklyn. He was dating her for a while. Man, he was gone for her. She dumped him, though. She had her gaze set higher than just the Secret Service.”

  Jack pressed his hand to his chest, his eyes wide. He tsked three times as Ethan chuckled.

  “Lawrence tells me they’re going to start decorating tomorrow. He looks a little… nervous.” Jack frowned.

  “You have no idea.” Ethan couldn’t hold back his smile. “An army will descend on the White House tomorrow. Volunteers, most of whom are about as dedicated to their mission as any Spec Ops soldier could ever be. It will be an invasion of Santa hats. It’s unbelievable.”

  Jack laughed. “I remember coming to the White House when I was in the Senate and being awed. I didn’t think about how all of it went up.”

  “You’ve seen ants build something, right? It’s like that.” Ethan’s fingers waggled in front of the screen. “Just accept, right now, that glitter is going to be a part of your life for the next six weeks. It will be in the air you breathe and the food you eat.”