A soft wave of surprise rolls across her face, like it’s the first time Parker has ever heard anyone make her—and her well-being—a priority.

“I wouldn’t think twice,” I add. “If you told me you didn’t feel safe, I’d take you anywhere you felt peace.”

After a solid thirty seconds, of silence, I begin to wonder I wonder if she’s figured out I’m talking about more than just changing our living situation to something she’s more comfortable in.

“You already gave me peace, Fitz.”

“I did?”

“Yes. It’s at the barn, where I’m heading now.”

* * *

Something hits me in the face, and I jump.

“Sorry.” I reach for my third coffee of the day. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“When I said I wanted to pick your mind, that meant I needed it present, Fitzy.”

Putting down my cup, I straighten, rising to attention.

“Trouble in paradise with your lady already?”

“Parker isn’t a problem.”

“Good.” Coach snorts. “Because I might’ve been a counselor once in my life, but not a marriage counselor.”

Drumming my fingers against the table, I gnaw on the inside of my cheek for a second. Maybe I can get some advice without dragging Parker into it.

“Actually, you got a second to put on that counseling hat?”

“I just told you⁠—”

“It’s not about me and Parker. No it’s…” I scratch the back of my head. “You know, we have all these babysitters. Secret Service. It’s annoying as hell. They’re at my door all the time, if we’re on the go together, they’re on our tail.”

Coach sits on his desk, folding his arms. “Sounds like this is an issue for the White House, not me.”

“No, I know they’re doing their job and all, I get it. And they’re not bad guys. But one of them”—I pause, trying to think on my feet—“you know, one of these retired Marine types, when it’s his shift, he constantly checks in.”

“Isn’t that his job?” Coach laughs. “Making sure you—or your girlfriend—is safe?”

I don’t really think this is the time to correct him on a matter of semantics and redirect this conversation. “Right, yeah, it’s his job. But like every fifteen minutes at night? I hear him opening the door constantly, looking around, and closing it.”

This story is more of the opposite of what Parker is doing, but the behavior is the same.

“It’s like he can’t stop. Like it’s⁠—”

“Obsessive?”

“Maybe.” My shrug comes naturally because I didn’t have the word before, but that’s it. “I feel bad for the guy. Should I say something?”

Coach shrugs. “You said he was a marine?”

I nod because I think I did.

“Therapy.”

“That’s it?” I ask. “Therapy?”