It felt surreal. Like too much.
But for now—for tonight—they’d survived.
And that would have to be enough.
chapter
fifty-five
The house was finally quiet.
The police had left an hour ago. Max was in his apartment above the garage. Naomi was still at the hospital with Sissy.
It was just Millie and Caleb now, and the silence felt strange after all the chaos.
Millie sat on the couch in the living room, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, staring at the fire Caleb had built in the fireplace. The flames danced and crackled, hypnotic in their movement.
Biscuit was curled at her feet, finally settled after all the upheaval. Hamilton lay nearby, the two dogs forming a protective barrier around her.
She should sleep. She was exhausted—bone-deep, soul-deep exhaustion that made even breathing feel like work.
But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Garrick’s face. Felt his arm squeezed tight around her throat. Heard Sissy’s voice defending a murderer.
So she sat and watched the fire instead.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and Caleb appeared in the doorway carrying two mugs.
He handed her one—peppermint tea, from the smell of it—and settled onto the couch beside her. Not too close. He was being respectful of her boundaries even now.
They sat in silence for a while, just breathing, just existing in the same space.
Finally, Caleb spoke. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”
Millie turned to look at him. “Where else would I go?”
“Anywhere.” He stared into his mug. “After everything that happened tonight—Garrick, Sissy, all of it—you could have packed your bags and been halfway to another state by now. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
“Is that what you want? For me to leave?”
“Most definitely not.” The words came out fast, emphatic. He set his mug on the coffee table and turned to face her fully. “Millie, I need to say something. Something I should have said six years ago.”
Her heart began to pound.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry for the way I ended things. For not trusting you with the truth. For making decisions about our future without giving you a say in it. For thinking I knew what was best for you when I had no right to make that choice.”
Millie’s throat tightened.
“I was twenty-five and scared and about to deploy on a mission I might not come back from,” he continued. “And all I could think was that I couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t make you wait and worry and potentially grieve. So I convinced myself that walking away was noble. That I was protecting you.” He paused, his jaw working. “But I wasn’t protecting you. I was protecting myself from having to watch you hurt. From having to carry the guilt of leaving you behind.”
“Caleb—”
“You deserved better than that. You deserved honesty. You deserved a chance to make your own choice about what you could handle, what you wanted. And I took that from you. I’ve regretted it every single day since.”
Millie set down her own mug, her hands trembling. “I spent six years thinking I wasn’t enough for you. Thinking there was something wrong with me. That I’d done something to drive you away.”
Pain flashed across his face. “There was nothing wrong with you. You were perfect. You are perfect. I was the one who was broken.”
“We were both broken. Maybe we still are.”
