We are not going back

Chapter forty-eight

The sound of rain beating against the windows had become relentless, a constant background hum that only seemed to grow louder with each passing minute. We were all sitting in the living room, the warmth from earlier now dimmed by the growing tension in the air. I could feel it creeping into the corners of the room, tightening my chest.

Kamala had stepped into another room, speaking with the Secret Service about the weather. The rain was getting worse- so much worse that even the idea of driving back to D.C. was beginning to seem reckless.

I was about to go and check on her when the front door burst open, and a figure stumbled in, drenched from head to toe.

It was Olivia.

Her clothes clung to her skin, her hair plastered to her face as she stood there, chest heaving, her eyes wide and frantic. Richard rushed over, his face etched with worry.

“Olivia!” he exclaimed. “What on earth-”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she gasped, her voice trembling. She was soaked to the bone, her hands shaking as she tried to wring water from her sleeves. “I- I didn’t know…”

Then she saw me.

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, she just stood there, stunned. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I could see the confusion, the pain written across her face as she took in the scene around her. She looked from me to the small memorial we had set up for Elivio, her eyes narrowing in realization.

“You’re celebrating his life… without me.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a mix of hurt and accusation that cut straight through me.

Before I could respond, her gaze flickered behind me, and I knew what she had seen.

Kamala had just reentered the room.

Olivia’s eyes widened for the briefest second before she wiped at her face, brushing away the rain and the tears as if they were the same thing. She straightened up, her posture stiff and distant, her usual coldness returning like a protective shield.

Kamala, for her part, stood calmly, her expression unreadable. She didn’t say anything, but the presence of the President of the United States in this personal, intimate setting was impossible to ignore.

“I didn’t realize I was interrupting,” Olivia said, her voice devoid of the emotion I’d seen only moments ago.

“You’re not,” I managed to say, but the words felt hollow. Everything was already awkward enough, and now… now it was unbearable.

Richard moved to comfort Olivia, but she shook her head, stepping back slightly, her gaze shifting between me and Kamala. The distance between us felt like miles.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” I said quietly, turning to Kamala. “It’s getting late.”

Kamala’s gaze flicked toward me before she spoke. “Actually, we can’t leave.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

She glanced back toward the hallway where her agents were. “The Secret Service just informed me that there’s a hurricane coming in. We’ve got about an hour before it hits, and it’s too dangerous to drive. We’re going to have to stay here.”

My heart sank. “Stay here?”

Kamala nodded, her voice calm, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of her tone. “We’ll be staying the night. Two agents will remain with us inside for protection.”

I glanced at Olivia, who was standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at the floor. I could see the tension in her posture, the silent storm brewing behind her eyes. This was the last thing I wanted- to be trapped here with her, with Kamala, with all the unspoken words hanging between us.