Page 130 of Winning Bid

“Why, exactly?”

“I think your dad has programmed you to be too forgiving, even when someone betrays you.”

“My dad has never betrayed me.”

“Bullshit!” I can’t keep it in. The words just flow right out of me. “The first dirty job he sent you on, he sent you off against three armed men without giving you a gun or a clue! You could have died!”

Anderson takes my hand in his. “I’m beat. Can we go over Dad’s sins another time?” He asks that like we have a future ahead of us.

But I can’t pretend anymore. “What if there isn’t another time?”

He leaps to his feet and pulls me into his arms, but I can’t let him comfort me. I can’t breathe. The walls are closing in, and I push him back. He looks so hurt, but there’s nothing I can do.

I can’t even speak. The room is spinning. I yank my shirt over my head before jerking my pajama bottoms off and running to the bedroom. I throw myself onto the bed and breathe into my pillow to stop hyperventilating.

“June, talk to me!”

But I can’t. I look up at him, tears raining down my face, before burying myself into the pillow again.

His weight dips the bed next to me. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

I shake my head no.

“Is it okay if I just lay here?”

I nod. It’s not okay, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings again. I force myself to put him out of my mind and focus only on my breathing. In. Out. Long in. Longer out. Nope. Not happening. I can barely hold still. I start hyperventilating, and I can’t stop.

“June, baby, we’re going to figure this out.”

The words shred their way out of my throat. “You can’t know that!”

“You’re right. But does that make you feel any better?”

“None of this makes me feel better! Moss is a piece of shit coward!”

“I won’t defend him. The betrayal … ” He gulps, trying to hold back his emotions. “I haven’t taken the stand yet, and honestly, him forcing the truth out might end up in our favor. He laid the groundwork for me to tell the truth from our point of view. I don’t think the jury will convict me.”

I stare at my beautiful husband. Even now, down and out and depleted from stress, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. “You pretty idiot.”

He snorts a laugh. “Thanks.”

“Do you honestly think that a man will get away with killing someone just because he put his hands on a woman? Do you understand that happens all the fucking time with no one giving a shit?”

“I’m well aware, June. You’re not the only lawyer in the room.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think you get it. You killed a man who was a smart, good-looking guy who worked hard, paid his taxes, and was friendly with the little old lady next door. You killed the perfect victim, Anderson.”

He shrugs. “Then, I will go to prison with a smile on my face, knowing you’re safe.”

My voice shatters at the words, “How can I be safe if you’re in prison?”

He pulls me to him, and I let him. The feel of his lips on mine is a comfort I didn’t know I needed. I hate that I must taste like tears right now. But I open to him when his tongue presses against me there. As he sweeps in, I let myself get carried away by the sensation of him. Anderson gently pushes me back onto the bed.

But everything inside of me seizes. The panic tries to come back, and if it does, I’ll lose it. I push him back. “I can’t do this. I don’t have it in me—I don’t think I’ve ever been this sad in my life.”

Quietly, he asks, “Can I hold you instead?”

I nod, and he spoons me, pulling the blanket over us. Anderson rubs my arm up and down like he doesn’t want to stop touching me.

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