The Wife He Buried Alive novel · Chapter 9 of 32

Chapter 9: The Corridor

Linnea's POV

The morning after the luncheon, a nurse wheeled a cart of IV bags into the corridor at the exact moment I was walking backward with Milo's drawings in both arms.

The cart caught my hip. I stumbled.

Winston caught me from behind.

His hand landed flat on my back, just above my waist, and his other arm came around my ribs to hold me up.

"I've got you," he said.

I did not answer. I could not have said anything.

I had no plan for his body. I had planned for his lawyers and his mother, and I had planned for a long, cold silence.

It had been four years.

He was warm along my whole back, and his heart was beating against my shoulder blade.

The cart rolled off down the hall.

He should have let go. Neither of us moved.

His hand spread out over my waist, and I heard him breathe in through his nose, slowly, and let it out.

I felt him against my hip.

He was hard, and it was very plain.

It's been four years, I told myself. He's a man. It means nothing, and I don't care.

My own pulse was running up the side of my neck.

His mouth was at my ear. I could feel the heat of it.

"Linnea," he said, low and rough, and I nearly turned around.

I stepped out of his arms. I held the drawings against my chest.

"Hands, Mr. Garrick," I said. "You have a bride in the building."

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