Restrained Under His Duty (Dirty Little Secrets 3)

Maybe. Maybe not. That’s the problem. I don’t know where his head is at.

I wish I could explain everything to my mother, but she’d never understand the situation I’m in. Ryder and I had lust together that was powerful enough to set off fireworks. But love…love shouldn’t be so complicated. That’s not the kind of love I want.

I guess some women would chase after him. Beg for his love. But I’m not those women. I need to be me in all this, and I’m not that girl who falls apart when life gets rocky.

Even if his absence and the unknown surrounding us tug at my heart, I have to keep the barrier that keeps me safe. Because we did have complications, and in the past, Ryder could and sometimes did hurt me deeply with his rejection. We did have obstacles in our way. I’d offered myself to him in more ways than one. But I’d never given him my heart, and until I knew he wouldn’t crush it, I never would.

“We’ll see what happens” is the only reply I’m prepared to give her.

I tug her forward, not wanting to think about how much I want Ryder and how unavailable he is, and lead Mom into Dad’s hospital room. I find him in bed with his eyes shut, but when I accidently kick the door, he snaps them open.

“Sorry.” I cringe.

“Don’t be,” he says, waving me forward, a warm smile crossing his face. “I’m so glad you came to see me. They wouldn’t let me come down to visit you.” He holds out his arms and I drop Mom’s hand and move to him immediately, carefully hugging him. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I am now.” I press my head against his shoulder, knowing that’s not where he was shot. “Just a few stitches, nothing more. And you?”

I lean away as he says with a grin, “Nothing can take down this beast.”

I laugh, too, maybe because that’s all you can do in the insanity of this situation. Both of us nearly died at the hands of a madman, and the fact that we didn’t is surely something to be celebrated. “I was so, so scared for you,” I tell him softly.

Dad’s eyes darken. “I’m sorry you had to find me like that.”

“If I hadn’t—” I force a smile, swallowing the remainder of my words, not even wanting to go there.

He smiles gently in return, tears in his eyes. “I was so, so scared for you.”

“I’m okay,” I tell him, knowing he needs to hear that from me. The guilt on his face is an intense thing to behold, and I don’t want my father to feel like he did this to me. Tobias Harrington did this, and truly, I am fine.

“Really?” my father asks. “You’re totally okay with all that’s happened to you?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Dad begins to frown at me, and I’m not really sure why. I sigh, thinking maybe it’s just the theme of the night. All the men in my life are grumpy when they should be happy to see me.

Before I can ask what’s up with him, Mom’s phone beeps and she snatches it off the table by Dad’s bed, looking at the screen. “Oh…oh.” Her cheeks flush a little, a twinkle appears in her eyes, as her phone begins to ring. “I need to take this,” she says, turning away. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I chuckle at her and shake my head, knowing it’s probably a reporter looking for a story. Mom does love the tabloids, especially when she’s the feature story. That’s one thing I didn’t get from my mother. I hate the spotlight.

When she leaves the room, I turn back to my father and he takes my hands in his. “Honey, I’m so sorry that you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad.”

“Nevertheless.” My father squeezes my hands tightly. “I’m still sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. The governor will be punished to the full extent of the law, and we’ll be there to watch him go away for a long time.”

I smile softly. “Yes, we will.”

Obviously done with the serious stuff we needed to get out of the way, he adds in a lighter voice, “I do have some other news that might come as a surprise.”

“What news?”

He points to a handful of white paper with printed words on his bedside table. “Grab those papers there, would you please?”

I pick them up and take a seat beside my dad on the bed, reading the typed words. It’s on White House stationery. “What is this?”

“It’s the confirmation of my nomination to be a Supreme Court Justice.”

I jerk my head up, the documents nearly falling out of my hands before I tighten my grip. “What?”