“You know, you can plan ahead for this. You don’t have to put yourself in that situation.”

“Oh, yeah? I can just call down to the police station and ask them to help me?”

Mateo cuts a glance my way. “It doesn’t have to be the police. You know how to do this.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” It’s true. I shouldn’t have to hire private security because my brother’s a criminal.

I shouldn’t have to do any of this. One tear spills out onto my cheek. I wasn’t going to cry. I was going to handle everything today like the competent, capable woman I am. Prove to the world, or at least the people in the courtroom, that I’m not a liar. That I’m not a woman gone crazy.

Another tear falls, and I turn my face to the window to hide it.

He sees anyway.

“Emily.”

I don’t answer. I’m holding my breath so I don’t make any noise. Mateo’s been driving to my house—he knows the way—but he puts on his turn signal and turns. Toward the beach. It’s three minutes at most and more tears fall, one by one, hot on my skin.

He stops the car. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see his pity or his judgment. I chose to marry Rhys. I didn’t choose the rest. If it were up to me, none of this would have happened. Today wouldn’t have been so hellish. He steps out of the car and closes the driver’s side door behind him. I keep my eyes on the dashboard.

My door opens a second later.

He’s blurred by my tears, looking down at me. If I open my mouth, if I say one word to Mateo Garza, I’ll break. Everything will come out. I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. I can’t name these feelings. I can’t label the swirling vortex of fear inside or I’ll crumble.

Mateo waits. It’s better here, with the waves on the shore and the salt smell in the air, but I can’t put the tears away. I can’t force them back.

A sob escapes. I tremble around it. There are more coming.

Mateo leans down, unbuckles my belt, and pulls me out of the car. I’m not sure he means to hug me. I’m not sure he wants to. But he’s the only person there when I break down. There’s nobody else. I expect him to mock me. Or at least remain distant. Instead he pulls me close. I’m in his arms when I shatter into a thousand pieces. I’m held together in impassible strength. His embrace both tears down my walls and gives me shelter.

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

Jane Mendoza