The Wife He Buried Alive novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Winston's POV

Winston's POV

At three in the morning, I walked down the dark hospital hallway to my son's room because I could not stand to be anywhere else.

Linnea had told me about the luncheon in the car.

She had said one thing twice.

Juliet turned her phone face down on a single letter.

Juliet had never once let a call go unanswered.

I had spent five anniversaries learning that.

Whoever H was, Juliet feared him more than a ballroom full of women.

Bev was asleep in the chair with her glasses on her chest.

Linnea slept on the cot beside the bed, curled around her own arms. She had never slept like that in our bed.

Milo was awake.

He lay in the middle of the bed with the gray elephant on his chest and his eyes wide open in the dim light.

"You're not supposed to be here," he whispered.

"Neither are you. You're supposed to be asleep."

"I can't. My tummy talks."

I sat down on the edge of the mattress very carefully. It was the closest I had been to him without a nurse in the room.

"Does the elephant sleep?" I asked.

"Pickle sleeps all the time. He doesn't have a job."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

Milo looked pleased, as though he had meant to be funny.

"Do you have a dad?" he asked.

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