The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,65
he were an oversized dog to keep back. “Who’s that?”
“They do this sometimes,” her voice cracked. “I’ll explain everything. Give me a minute to send him away.”
Hagan frowned with a sour taste in his mouth. “If you don’t want me to meet your folks.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll go.”
“You can’t. Not yet.”
A light knock rapped on the door. “Sweet pea?”
“They’re both here.” Amanda pressed her fingers to her temples, processing as though simply answering the door wasn’t the obvious choice of what to do next.
Hagan cleared his throat. “I’ll go. You don’t have to introduce me.”
“It’s not that—damn it. I will explain everything.”
He crossed his arms and nodded. He could handle an awkward greeting with her parents. Truth was, given the high drama, he wasn’t even curious. He couldn’t reason her reaction. Wanting privacy was one thing, ignoring the past another. But blocking him from her life as it literally knocked on the door…yeah, that wasn’t making him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.
She marched toward the door, then braced herself against it, barely inching it open. “Hi.”
“Surprise,” her dad said. “Are you going to let us in?”
The voice struck Hagan as familiar. The tension corkscrewed in his chest.
“You didn’t call,” she said.
Her dad laughed. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
“Are you okay?” Concern edged her mother’s voice. “You don’t look well.”
“It’s been a hard day.” She relinquished her spot at the door and glanced at Hagan, miserable and apologetic. “I have a guest.”
The door swung open. The blood drained from his limbs, and sweat prickled on his back. Hagan’s mouth dried as a nightmare unfolded. Her parents walked in, hugging their daughter, giving Hagan the missing piece so that everything made sense.
Dad and Mom were the President and First Lady. Hagan’s respect for their offices and the love of his country held him in place. He wanted to hate them, to yell or throw a chair. But it wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t played a part in destroying his life. Only their daughter had that burden, which she hadn’t yet claimed.
The President straightened from hugging his daughter. The First Lady smiled as though she’d stumbled upon a happy moment.
“Mom, Dad.” She faltered. “This is Hagan—”
He strode forward, refusing to look at Amanda, and held out his hand to the First Lady. “Hagan Carter.” Then stepped toward her husband. “Sir.”
The President swatted his formal behavior away, then cocked his head to the side. “You said your name is Hagan Carter?”
“Yes, sir.”
President Hearst glanced at Amanda, hesitantly adding, “Any relation to…”
A kaleidoscope of memories collided in Hagan’s chest, and it was as if he could see everything at once: The morning his brother passed his driving test; they spent the afternoon driving nowhere. That time Dylan had tricked Hagan into climbing an impossible tree only to spend hours coaxing him down so Roxana wouldn’t rat them out. Hagan remembered the day he went to college. Their mother sobbed. Their dad pretended not to choke up. Then that day Dylan came showed off that shiny Secret Service badge attached to his waist. Hagan had told every single kid in his class that he’d be like his big brother one day.
“Dylan Carter.” Hagan cleared his throat, nodding to the President. “Yes, sir. My brother.”
Amanda gasped. Hagan’s gaze jerked to her, furious at what she’d tried to hide.
“I’m sorry,” the First Lady said. “We cared deeply for Dylan.”
The jovial atmosphere disintegrated as if everyone understood what she hadn’t told him. “If you’ll excuse me, please.”
Amanda sounded miles away.
Hagan waited for the commander in chief’s dismissal.
The President silently lifted his chin.
“Thank you, sir.” Relieved from hell, Hagan strode out the door, refusing to stop until he understood how this happened.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The apartment door shut behind Hagan, and heartache exploded deep in Amanda’s heart, pinching so tight she couldn’t breathe.
“Honey.” Mom shook Amanda’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She collapsed into her mother’s arms. “No.”
Dad came up behind them and petted her hair. “It will be okay, kiddo.”
She didn’t have the strength to remind him that not everyone had it as lucky as her parents. Amanda sniffled and wiped her eyes. “How did you know I was home?”
“Halle emailed and said something happened on your trip, that you came home.” Mom’s eyebrows inched up. “Anything you’d like to share?”
“Not right now.” Amanda could only deal with one crisis at a time. “That was thoughtful of her, I guess.”
Mom gestured toward the luggage parked against the wall. “We weren’t aware that your