Page 120 of Winning Bid

“He was a little shit back in school. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I bet he did it. The guy probably looked at him wrong, and boom.”

Their words bite at me. It is like being nibbled to death by ducks. I want to scream at them to leave. If anyone has the perfect excuse to shout at a crowd of strangers, it’s me. But if I do that, I don’t know if I can keep my mouth shut about Neil.

Anderson is the hero who saved me from the villain, and I can’t say shit about that yet.

The truth is dying to come out of me, and I’m on the brink of screaming it when Tag walks up to me. He tips his head to the side. “Wanna get out of here?”

Elliot stiffly says, “I appreciate the kindness, Tag, but June is our family now. We will take care of her.”

Cole—I hadn’t noticed when he joined us—tells Tag, “Thanks, man, but we’ve got her. Think you can find out some details from your dad?”

“I’ll do what I can.” Tag walks off, calling his father.

Cole puts his arm around me. “Okay, Mrs. West, how about we get you in the house?”

I know the words he said, but I can’t make sense of them. “Why?”

“Because today has been one heck of a day, and you need rest.”

I huff a laugh. “You think I can sleep ever again?”

“That’s the spirit,” he says with false cheeriness. “Come on. You’re my new sister, and Anderson will kill me if I don’t take care of you.”

I shrug and let him guide me into the house. Thankfully, most of the guests take other paths out to their cars, so we don’t see too many people inside the house. We walk upstairs, or rather, Cole helps me up the stairs because I keep shuffling for some reason, and he takes me to a bedroom.

One look around, and I know it’s Anderson’s childhood bedroom. Navy blue walls and a matching checked bedspread. There’s a Ferrari poster over his bed. His trophies line the remaining walls, along with his pictures with his friends … it’s all so perfect and so him that I bawl uncontrollably.

Cole mutters, “Okay, bad choice. Come on.” He ushers me out of that bedroom and into the one next door. “Nothing bad in here. It’s just a guest room.”

When I pry my eyes open, I see what he means. It’s as neutral as can be—more gray and white in every direction. The bed looks big and inviting, and even though the thought of holding still right now sounds like hell, I think I need that bed. But how can I sleep without Anderson? I mumble, “Can’t sleep without him.”

Cole sighs. “I’m going to get you some food and a glass of water and some of those pills Mom uses to sleep when Dad isn’t around, okay? And I’ll check for some mood stabilizers while I’m at it. Pretty sure we could all use those right about now. I’ll be right back.” He runs off down the hall.

None of this feels real. My husband whisked me away to this giant estate, where people said nice things, and others arrested him. None of this makes any sense. How could they do this to us? My husband is a hero, dammit.

But they won’t know that until I tell them. Maybe it’s time for me to come clean. I might go to prison for hiding a body, but who fucking cares? I can’t let him take the blame for this. It was self-defense. Surely a jury would see … oh god. Would they?

Cole returns with pajamas, pills, and water. “Here we go. Just … use all of this at your leisure, June. My room is just on the other side of that wall. You don’t even have to call me. You can just knock. I’ll come check on you, okay?”

Numbly, I nod. As he leaves, I manage to say, “Thank you, Cole.”

He smiles. “You don’t have to thank family, June. But you’re welcome. And we’re going to get him back. You’ll see.” He closes the door behind himself.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

58

JUNE

Staring at my face in the bathroom mirror, I try to focus on the little things. The redness in my eyes. The puffiness. I look like a completely different person in grief. Makes it easier to pretend this is happening to someone else.

For a minute.

But then I feel it. The grief, pulling me down like undertow. Thankfully, Cole keeps bringing me water, or I might dehydrate from crying. He knocks on the bathroom door. “Hey. Sorry to bother you, but I brought some lunch.”

I open the door. “Thanks.”

---