Page 66 of Sugar
He abruptly sits up to look at me, his eyes wild. “You thought I was being attacked and you still came in here?” he demands.
I nod, swallowing.
“Ava, don’t ever put yourself in danger like that. You could have been hurt?—”
“I wasn’t,” I say back. “No one’s here, Kasey. You’re safe—we’re both safe.”
He blows out a long breath, and I feel his hand tremble where it still grips my waist. “I’m sorry,” he says again.
“You don’t need to apologize. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
He looks at me, face pained, but stays quiet.
“What were you dreaming about?” I ask. “It sounded awful.”
“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just . . . stupid shit.”
“Kasey,” I press. “That wasn’t nothing. Maybe if you tell me about it, it’ll help your body settle down. It’ll help your brain process that none of it is real.”
A shadow passes over his expression, and I realize he doesn’twantto tell me. “I’m okay, sugar. We don’t need to talk about it.”
I frown. “Is it about me?”
“No,” he assures me. “Nothing like that.”
“Then tell me,” I try again. “Let me help.”
He groans again, pulling my left hand into his lap and running a thick finger over my new gold band. Even in the dark, I see the ways his muscles bunch at his shoulders, the strong curve of his biceps as he shifts on the bed. It suddenly becomes clear to me: he’s hiding something.
“Kasey?”
“Something happened a few weeks before you got back into town,” he says, his voice tight. “I can’t tell you much or it’ll make you an accomplice.”
Dread sinks through me. “You can tell me, I’m a lawyer. I’m bound to confidentiality.”
“But I haven’t hired you?—”
“Consider it a consultation,” I interject firmly. “Plus, as your wife, you’re protected by marital privileges. What you say stays between us, I promise. Tell me what happened.”
He just looks at me, pressing his lips into a firm line.
“Does it have to do with the ranch? With Huck?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Something else.”
“Something with your family?”
“Rhett’s a part of it,” he concedes. “And Wells too, I guess—he was there. But it’s somethingIdid, not them.”
“Something you did?” I repeat. “Like . . . a crime?”
Again, he doesn’t answer.
“Kasey, I just committed fraud by marrying you to help your family keep the ranch. I’m already complicit in things that have to do with you. Whatever it is you’ve done . . . let me help.”
“It’s a lot worse than fraud, sugar,” he says.
My stomach flips. “I need to know,” I tell him. “I’m married to you—if there’s something you’re worried about . . .” I decide to take a different approach. “If something happens to you, it affects me now. And it affectshertoo,” I say, hoping he understands what I mean.
