"Baby girl." Kneeling in front of her, I took her hands in mine, resting them both on her lap. "I'm laughing because it's a fucking ridiculous question and because you don't ever need to be worrying about me." I pushed a stray hair off of her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. Bee's chin fell to her chest, she took a deep breath. "I'm just fine, baby," I assured her. I pulled her close and pressed my lips to hers. I wished that somehow that kiss would stop whatever thoughts were making her withdraw and snap her out of the place she went to when all wasn't right in her world.

It was a flat out lie, I wasn't okay by any means, but I didn't need Bee worrying about me. The more she worried, the more she would retreat from me and the harder it would be to make things right again. What I wanted to tell her is that without her, without Georgia, even for just a few hours, I was the furthest thing from fine.

But there was no fucking way I was going to tell her that, especially when she was wearing that hoodie. Bee's equivalent of a security blanket. The message she was sending me was loud and clear. She was freaking the fuck out. She was afraid of losing me.

I wasn't afraid of that. She was never ever going to lose me.

I was going to fix this. Fix her. Did she need me to? Probably not, Abby always came out of it on her own with a little time and she was always stronger for it. But this time, this time I was going to be more than her vigilante. This time, when and if I got out of prison, I was going to be her hero.

"No prolonged contact!" A high pitched voice warned. A skinny guard with a red pointed mustache stood by the far wall and glared at us. As much as it pained me, I pulled away from Bee and took a seat next to her, our hands folded together on top of the table, our knees touching underneath. It was the closest I could physically get to her, and I was going to savor every minute of PG contact that I could.

"Your lawyer should be here tomorrow morning," Abby said, reminding me of why we were in that room in the first place. "Have they told you what they have against you? What the evidence is?"

I told Abby what I knew. Which wasn't much. The DA had put me in one of those windowless rooms meant to intimidate, and tried his best to get me to confess, until he realized the only answer I had to any of the questions he'd asked, including if I wanted some coffee, was "I'm not talking without my fucking lawyer." Finally, he'd thrown his arms up in frustration, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, knocking it over in the process, and left the room, slamming the door behind him and told them to process me. Next thing I knew, I was in a van and headed north to the jail in Logan's Beach.

What I did learn during his failed interrogation was that the evidence they had against me was enough to charge me with murder in the first degree.

Enough to seek the death penalty.

I didn't mention that to Abby.

"Why are you wearing that again?" I asked her, gesturing to the hoodie.

"It was cold," she said meekly, looking everywhere but at me.

"Hey," I said, turning her chin to me, forcing her to look me in the eyes. "It's okay that you need to be comforted right now. It's okay to feel shitty about this entire situation because it is a shitty situation." I rubbed the pad of my thumb over her cheek. “But it’s not okay to check out on me, Abigail Ford. You can’t leave me. Ever.”

"I'm not..." she started.

I interrupted, "The only thing I like about that hoodie is how it reminds me of how we met. Do you remember that night, Bee?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"I loved you then."

"No, you didn't." Her eyes turned glassy. I was getting to her so I kept going.

"Yes, I did. I loved you that very night, and I've loved you every single night since, baby." I wiped the tear that fell from the corner of her eye, she leaned into my touch.

It wasn't much, but reminding her of how we got our start was the only thing I could do to help her stay present while I was locked away.

I was making a list of all the shit I was going to do once I was free because my number one priority was going to be making sure my wife knew that I was there to carry her burdens for her and make sure that the life I gave her was one she never felt like she couldn't deal with.

When I got out, Abby and I were going to have a couples’ therapy session.

Jake Fucking Dunn style.

SIX

[Being locked up gives you only one thing: time to think.

And since Abby's visit, the only thing on my mind was how remembering the night we met had made her tear up. A huge victory when it came to the fragile emotional state of my wife.