She’d thought he was the man she’d build her future with.
Instead, she’d learned how quickly certainty could disappear.
The room was quiet except for Biscuit’s steady breathing from his bed on the floor. Millie’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and that was when she saw something out the window.
A faint light. Brief. Flickering low among the trees at the back of the property.
Her breath caught.
Then it was gone.
The woods returned to solid black as if nothing had disturbed them.
She leaned forward, heart thudding, eyes fixed on the spot.
For a second, she was sure she’d imagined it. She’d been certain it was just a reflection or fatigue playing tricks on her.
She sat still, listening. Counting her breaths.
The house remained quiet. No shouts. No alarms. No movement she could hear.
Tell Caleb, a voice urged.
But another answered just as quickly.Don’t overreact. You’re tired. You’ve been on edge all day. It will just corrode any trust he has in you.
She pressed her lips together, weighing the choice.
If she told him and it was nothing, she’d look foolish. Paranoid. Like someone who couldn’t be trusted to assess her own fear.
Still, unease lingered.
Millie drew the quilt closer and lay back, eyes still trained on the window. She told herself it was just the dark. Just her imagination reaching for threats because it didn’t know how to rest yet.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
And even as she closed her eyes, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was out there, waiting to be noticed.
chapter
sixteen
The next morning,Millie shifted the laundry basket on her hip and eased another towel into the washer.
Her thoughts wouldn’t slow. They kept going back to that light she thought she’d seen in the woods last night.
Had she been imagining things? Or could someone have been out there?
She didn’t know. She didn’t want to be the girl who cried wolf. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
As she worked, she glanced around the room.
Even the laundry room in this house was beautiful with its black-and-white tiled floor and clean white shaker cabinets. The space smelled faintly of detergent, and pipes occasionally knocked in the wall.
She’d volunteered to help with the washing. In actuality, she desperately wanted to keep her thoughts occupied.
So far, it wasn’t working.
Naomi folded items Millie had pulled from the dryer. T-shirts. Sweatshirts. Dog blankets.
