50

Watch those heel strikes. Land on your midfoot. Even strides. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax the shoulders. Relax the hands. One foot in front of the other.

Don’t think. Just keep running.

A half stride behind her, Morgan was breathing hard.

Well, he was a big man. In decent shape, but built like a linebacker, not a runner. Good for short bursts and beating the crap out of someone, but she knew she could outrun him.

He carried a gun in a fanny pack. Lindsey had seen it. She’d asked what kind it was. “A Sig Sauer P226, ma’am.” It probably didn’t weigh him down much. But she wondered how much good a gun would do, if, say, a car drove up alongside them and started shooting. He took the position closer to the street so his bulk would shield her from the fire, but if he was shot first, would he be able to draw the gun in time?

The smell of exhaust. Francine’s hand clutching her arm: “You can’t go over there, what if the car comes back? Come inside the house!” That was a good idea, definitely a good idea, but then she thought, you are the candidate’s wife. How will it look if you run away and hide? “He won’t come back, he knows we’re calling 911, and he won’t come back.” And then she ran across the street, and it was too late to do anything at all.

“Let’s turn around,” Lindsey said.

There was no point in going on. She couldn’t turn off the thoughts in her head, not with a living reminder panting next to her, his heavy footfalls louder than her own.

When she got home, Matt was there waiting for her, standing in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his suit from the flight home. The Padres game was on, but muted. “Where have you been?”

Lindsey spread her hands. “Where does it look like? And hello to you too.”

“Welcome home, Congressman.” Morgan stepped forward, sticking out his hand. Matt took it, not smiling. “I’ll just head to the hotel, then,” Morgan said.

“Don’t be silly. I made you run with me. At least have a shower first.”

“Thanks, ma’am. If that’s your preference.” He trotted off to the guestroom.

“Jesus, Linds, you went running?” Matt paced around the room. “Is that what you’ve been doing while I was gone?”

First he’d said he’d stay in San Diego and miss the vote. She’d talked him out of that. He was one of the sponsors of the bill, and it was important, even if they didn’t have the votes to pass it. Then he’d tried to convince her to come with her. “What, and sleep on the hide-a-bed in your office?” They really didn’t have the money for a DC apartment. He was next in line for a room in a shared condo with two other congressmen from California—that is, if he got reelected. “We’ll stay in a hotel,” he’d said. “Someplace nice. Let’s make it a getaway.”

She’d turned him down. “There’s a vigil for Rachel tomorrow night. One of us needs to be there. And she wouldn’t want you missing the vote.”

“Fine,” he’d finally said. “Then Morgan stays.”

It hadn’t been worth arguing about, and if she was being honest, having an armed policeman around was some small comfort, under the circumstances.

“There’s a shooter out there,” Matt said now, “and you’re going jogging?”

“I took Morgan.” She listened for the sound of running water. “Can we wait until he’s gone to do this?”

Do what?

She wasn’t even sure.

By the time Morgan left and she’d showered too, Matt had changed into shorts and a T-shirt and parked himself on the couch in front of the TV, 394 Pale Ale in hand. Tony Gwynn’s beer, and Matt’s favorite game day choice. “For luck,” he’d say. “Maybe it’ll inspire them to hit.”

Great, Lindsey thought. So we’ll be having this conversation with the Padres. If we’re even having it at all.

She sat down next to him. “Are you still planning on doing the precinct walk?”

Matt muted the game. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Then I want to go with you.”

“What?” He stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment. “Absolutely not.”

“Why? Because if you’re going to tell me it’s not safe, then you shouldn’t do it either.”

“Of course it’s safe, I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t safe, it’s just … I don’t understand. Why do you want to do this, after what happened?”

“You’re asking me this, Matt? You are? The man who almost got shot?”

“I’m the reason they’re shooting! I’m the reason Rachel got killed!” He was yelling now, his cheeks flushed.

She couldn’t tell him to calm down, that never worked, and she’d been close to yelling too. She drew in a deep breath.

Why did she want to go?

“Matt. If you’re doing this to honor her, then I’m certainly entitled to as well. And if it’s safe enough for you, then it’s safe enough for me.”

He shook his head. Rested his forehead on the heels of his hands. “It’s better if I go by myself.”

“Why? Why do you need to do this on your own? Do I send the wrong message or something? You can’t be a hero if I’m around?”

Silence.

Oh my god, Lindsey thought. That was horrible. I am horrible.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a shitty thing to say. I’m not … I’m not in control right now. I haven’t been sleeping. I’m just … ”

“That’s why.” His voice was flat. “You shouldn’t have to know what it feels like. And now you do.” Now he looked at her, his eyes red and glassy. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen. But if something does … I don’t want you to be there.”

She felt two things at once: a swell of affection and a fresh surge of anger.

“I appreciate that you want to protect me. I do. But … look, we’re either partners or we’re not. I can’t keep doing things this way. I just can’t.”

“What do you want me to do, Linds? Just tell me.” He sounded weary.

“I want … ” What did she want? “I want us to stop fighting so much. I want to feel like we’re in this together. I want us to be close again.”

He let out a deep sigh. “How can I when you’re angry all the time?”

She almost stood up and left the room. She wanted to tell him to fuck off, then put on her shoes again and run until she was tired.

He was right.

“I’m angry because you’re unavailable. And you’re unavailable because I’m angry. Great.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and chuckled once. “That’s funny.”

You started it when you screwed around on me, she wanted to say, but she stopped herself. Was that really fair? Did it even matter at this point, who “started it”? She deserved a portion of the blame, and she knew it.

“Yeah. We’re a pair.”

He turned to her. “So, what are we going to do?”

It was a good question. She thought about it. Tried to count up the reasons she was angry. They didn’t all have to do with Matt. She was missing something, something that had to do with her.

Maybe she should try to get pregnant. Or adopt.

Or … run for city council. The seat in their district would be open in two years. There were so many things that could be improved in their community, in this city. She’d enjoy doing that.

Lindsey felt something in her chest start to relax.

“We finish the campaign,” she said. “We try to get along. When the election’s over, we can worry about the rest of it.”

He nodded. He was sitting with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped between his knees. “I don’t want to split up,” he said.

“I don’t either.”

“Then let’s not.” His voice was soft. He reached out his hand and rested it on top of hers, slid his thumb between her thumb and index finger, stroked the crease of her palm.

All his attention was on her, for once.