He moved another inch closer to my side, his left arm pressing against mine, though I could feel his forearm trembling through his wool sweater.

“He didn’t do those chores, Rachel,” Sylvia said, turning her dark eyes directly on me.

“I paid four hundred dollars a month so he wouldn’t have to.”

June let out a weak, breathless sigh against my collarbone, her small face warm against the fabric of my navy scrub top.

I rested my left hand on June’s back, my thumb finding the cold silver band of my wedding ring and pressing hard against its edge.

“What did you just say?” I asked.