As the dogs made introductions, Max circled the car, checking beneath the chassis, the wheel wells, the seams near the bumpers. He worked quickly but thoroughly, flashlight beam steady.
Caleb took Millie in at a glance. Then, against his will, he did the same a second time.
Millie’s skin still held that warm olive tone he remembered. Her hair was darker now—deep brown, nearly black in the low light—worn long and pulled back in a loose knot that exposed the familiar line of her neck.
When she turned slightly, her profile was unmistakable. Straight nose. Defined jaw. The same thoughtful stillness he remembered from years ago. This was the woman who’d had a strong sense of adventure. Who’d loved musicals and hiking and pistachio ice cream.
Whathadchanged was the way she carried herself. She stood with a quiet awareness, weight balanced, shoulders relaxed but ready. She was slimmer than he remembered—not fragile, just pared down.
When she met his gaze, her eyes were steady and familiar.
Six years had passed. She was different in ways he could see, but not unfamiliar. That was clear enough. She was still Millie. And standing there in front of him, she made it impossible to pretend the past had stayed where he’d left it.
His life was so different now. So much had happened. Had changed. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret how he’d ended things with her. It had seemed like the right choice at the time. But his heart told him differently.
Caleb shoved those thoughts aside and turned back toward the house. “While Max finishes up here, let’s get you inside. Mom made some homemade chicken noodle soup that’s still on the stove and some fresh sourdough bread before she left. You look like you could use both.”
Her eyes lifted to his, surprise flooding her gaze. “That sounds . . . it sounds really good. I haven’t eaten since I left. I didn’t want to risk stopping for too long—only for coffee, gas, and bathroom breaks.”
“Max will grab your bags when he’s done and move your car into the garage and out of sight,” Caleb said. “You left the keys in the ignition?”
“I did.”
“I’m glad you made it.” As they started toward the house, he added, “You’ll be safe here.”
Caleb would do everything in his power to make sure that was true.
Warmth wrapped around Millie from the moment the door closed behind her.
It wasn’t just the heat—though the air inside was comfortably warm, and the smell of soup settled something tight in her chest.
It was the feeling of reprieve. The realization that walls stood around her. The fact that—for just a moment—she didn’t need to worry that Garrick might appear from the shadows to punish her.
She and Caleb—as well as their dogs—had come in through a side entrance. Caleb reached past her to flip a switch, and soft light filled a short hallway. He took her coat and hung it on a row of hooks already crowded with jackets and work coats.
The sight was oddly reassuring.
The hallway opened into the kitchen, and she slowed without meaning to.
The room was beautiful. A large, white marble island anchored the space, four barstools lined neatly along one side. Beyond it sat a long wooden table with eight chairs pulled close, as if meant to be filled more often than not. A black farmhouse-style chandelier hung overhead, casting a warm, even glow.
“This house . . .” she said before she could stop herself. “It’s gorgeous.”
Caleb followed her gaze, a faint—almost sad—smile touching his mouth. “My sister had great taste.”
Had.
The word didn’t go unnoticed. Millie filed it away without comment. Now wasn’t the time to ask. Maybe there would never be a time to ask.
Her attention shifted as she took in the space beyond the kitchen.
In the living room, beige couches formed a comfortable sitting area, centered around a gray brick fireplace. A black-and-white rug grounded the space, pulling everything together. A few candles burned along the mantel, their light steady and calm, their scent soothing.
Another room was tucked beside the front door. From where she stood, she could see walls lined with bookshelves, a mini-grand piano, and a couple of plush chairs.
Millie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
If she was going to be anywhere tonight, she was grateful it was here. It was much better than some dirty motel in the middle of nowhere that only took cash.
