“The announcement still on for Friday?”
“Yes. Boone wrangled the Peake. Deke is on board.”
“We’ll be there to show the colors, bud. Listen, Chance is here with me. Cassie and Jolie, too. We want to know what you need, what we can do to help.”
Clay’s throat clogged and his eyes burned. “You just did it, Cord. All of you.”
Cord and Jolie, the mother of Cord’s child, had recently married. She was an ER nurse and spoke up. “If Georgie has any questions, Clay, or needs anything at all, tell her to call me. I’ll be there with her each step of the way. Tell her that, ’kay?”
“Thanks, hon. I will.”
“Clay?”
He swiveled on the stool to find a disheveled Georgie standing in the doorway. Her hair was mussed, one strap of her tank hovered on the point of her shoulder ready to fall off and her cotton sleep pants rode low on her curvy hips. She blinked at Hunt and Boone, her expression confused. Her cell phone rested in the palm she stretched toward him. “Why are there movers at my apartment?”
Fifteen
Clay exchanged looks with Boone while Hunt glanced out the window.
“Clay?” Georgie’s voice sounded small and a little lost.
“C’mere, sweet pea.” He reached out and she moved into his arms. Glancing at her phone, he realized the call was still live. “Who’re ya talking to?”
She gazed up at him, looking sleepy and confused. “Jen. She says people are in my apartment.”
Hunt snatched the phone and moved away, speaking softly to Georgie’s best friend. Clay kissed her forehead. “I figured you didn’t want to hassle with closing down your apartment, sweetheart. Hunt arranged to have some of his crew pack up your things. We’ll put your furniture in storage. Most of your personal items will get shipped to your dad. The things you need every day will come here.”
Her body stiffened. “Here?”
The legs of a bar stool grated against the tile floor and Boone vacated the area, snagging his brother as he walked past.
“Yeah, baby. Here. With me. I wasn’t kidding, Georgie. I’m here for the long haul. You’ll stay with me when we’re in DC. If I’m traveling and you don’t feel up to it, you can stay with your dad in Oklahoma. I’ve decided to move campaign headquarters to Oklahoma City. I’ll work from there while you have your treatments.”
“Clay—”
“Shhh, sweet pea. We’ll deal with this together.”
“We will?”
“Yes.” He knew she loved him and warmth spread through his chest before a chill edged in. He wished he could return her love. “C’mere.” He guided her to a stool then poured coffee, nudging the mug, creamer and sugar bowl toward her, along with a spoon. He splashed more coffee in his cup while she doctored her coffee.
“What’s wrong, Clay?”
He studied her face. She was awake now, and coherent. Her chin rose in a stubborn tilt. She’d survived the first blow. She’d survive what he said next. He nodded, a small acknowledgment of her strength. “Hunt will be talking to your doctor’s office. Someone leaked.”
Color drained from her face and she swayed on the stool. He pressed the mug into her hands. “Drink, Georgie.”
“There’s more.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. Drink your coffee.”
Her eyes snapped and flashed in the morning light. “I don’t think I want to.”
He offered a wry smile. “I know you, darlin’. The caffeine will help.” He breathed easier. Georgie was back. She was still emotionally bruised and he was afraid that what he was about to share would eviscerate her, but it had to be done. Then they’d take steps to stop the bleeding.
She chugged the contents of the mug, set it down on the granite counter with a sharp tink of ceramic on stone. Squaring her shoulders, she nodded. “Okay. I’m ready. Show me.”
He opened the laptop and hit Play. Her hand groped for his, clung, squeezed. She took her glasses off and set them aside, still listening, head bowed. His gut roiled as anger surged. When the report ended, he closed the laptop. He didn’t move, unsure of how to comfort Georgie, and that left him frustrated. His instincts urged him to take her into his arms, but something held him in place. After an agonizingly long time, which was only moments according to the clock, she raised her head and put her glasses back on so she could focus on his face.
“We need to draft a statement.”
“Boone will do that.”
“No. We need to do it. And call a press conference.” She slipped off the stool, headed to the coffeemaker and poured another cup. She returned to her seat, her expression resolute.