“I don’t know . . .”
“I wouldn’t mind. In fact, it would help me feel more useful.”
He studied her face. “Are you sure there’s nothing that would trigger someone and let them know it’s you?”
She nodded. “There’s nothing. I mean it. Believe me, I don’t want to be found. I wouldn’t do it if I thought the trail would lead back to me.”
He didn’t say anything a moment. Then he nodded. “Maybe. Let me think about it. I just want to make sure every I is dotted and every T crossed.”
Footsteps sounded behind them.
He turned and saw Max step inside, his jacket zipped and his eyes alert.
“I’ll take the night shift,” Max said. “No point pretending any of us are sleeping now.”
“I appreciate it.” Caleb had already known someone would need to keep watch. They couldn’t take any chances, not when the threats were becoming more and more obvious.
“I’ll walk the fence every half hour. Radio on.”
“Report anything that seems off.”
“Will do.” Max didn’t linger. He turned and disappeared back outside.
Caleb motioned toward the door. “Let’s get back to the house.”
Millie walked beside him, quiet now. But Caleb knew her. Knew her thoughts were still racing.
They stepped back inside, and he locked the door behind them.
Warmth wrapped around him, but it didn’t settle the way it usually did.
For some reason, the house now felt smaller. Thinner. Like the walls had lost some of their weight.
For the past year, Refuge Cove had been the place where fear stopped at the threshold.
Tonight, standing with the woman he’d once loved, Caleb had the uncomfortable realization that something had followed them inside.
For the first time since they’d started this shelter, Refuge Cove didn’t feel like much of a refuge at all.
Millie stood in the kitchen for a second after they stepped inside, her arms folded tight across her chest and adrenaline still humming beneath her skin.
Her hands shook when she reached for Biscuit and rubbed his head. “Good job keeping guard inside the house tonight, boy.”
He wagged his nub, pleased at her approval.
Caleb paced into the living room, straight to the gas fireplace. He flipped it on, and flames filled the enclosure. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck then looked at her.
“You’re cold,” he said. “Come sit by the fire a minute to warm up.”
Millie hesitated but finally moved closer. Some warmth did sound really nice.
She sat on the edge of a beige ottoman and let the flames heat her skin.
“I’ll put the kettle on.” Caleb turned toward the kitchen. “You look like you could use something warm.”
The simple normalcy of it—the suggestion that theypauseinstead of brace—slipped past her defenses. She nodded, unable to resist the moment.
By the time Caleb came back, steam curled from a mug in his hands. He passed it to her without ceremony, then took the chair beside her. Hamilton lay at his feet, looking like the picture of dignity.
