HAZEL
Ridge pushed his chair back from the small table he where he sat at the bakery. Our position was diagonal to how it had been the last time he interviewed me, but I couldn’t ignore the familiar feeling. How many times would I have Ridge Jefferson interrogating me?
He and his men were here so long my nerves no longer shook as he asked me questions. Corbin clutched my fingers tightly against his, giving me one last reassuring squeeze. He never left my side, not once while Ridge questioned me about what happened in the bathroom. Corbin held my hand the entire time.
I refused to give a second of attention to what that meant.
Nope.
Not at all.
Ridge stood looking over the table at Corbin particularly. They shared a moment, but it was like the one Corbin had with his twin brother, where it seemed as if they were speaking another language. Ridge was giving Corbin a command. From the way Corbin jerked his head in response, I assumed he understood and agreed.
It was weird.