The fire crackled low. Biscuit settled beside her with a huff, finally easing.
“You did good out there.” Caleb’s voice sounded low, almost husky.
“I just helped with the dogs.” Her words sounded thin to her own ears.
“That matters.” He didn’t look away. “Youmattered, just like you always have.”
Something tight and fragile shifted in her chest. For years, Garrick had made it clear she was no one without him. That she was useless.
Hearing someone say that she was still important made something twist in her chest.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held them back.
Not here. Not now.
She and Caleb sat there a moment, not talking. The house creaked. Somewhere above them, a door closed softly.
Caleb leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “Millie, I need you to know that your safety is my top priority. Always. Tonight could’ve gone worse. I don’t ever want you putting yourself in the line of fire.”
“I wasn’t reckless.” She braced herself to be scolded, her shoulders tensing.
“I know.” His gaze held hers, steady and intent. “But I’m still worried.”
“I don’t want you worrying about me. I can worry about myself.”
“We’re all stronger when we look out for each other.”
“There is no ‘each other,’ Caleb.” Her voice cracked. “The only person I have watching out for me is me.”
“Millie . . .” His voice sounded strained, like he wanted to argue with her but couldn’t.
How could he? Her words were true—and he had to know that.
Support systems were great—if you had one. But if you didn’t, then all you could do was make the best of things. There was no need to mourn what couldn’t be or to hope a White Knight would come riding in to save you.
Caleb reached out, and his hand settled at the center of her back. He didn’t grip her or pull her closer. His hand was just there—warm, solid, grounding.
Millie inhaled sharply.
Before her mind caught up, she leaned into his touch. For a second, everything else faded—the fear, the noise, the relentless weight of the night.
Everything felt like it used to.
She felt safe. Seen. Chosen.
No longer alone.
Caleb felt it too. She knew that much. His hand stayed a fraction longer than necessary, thumb moving once, barely there.
Then reality rushed back in.
Caleb had broken her heart once.
She wouldn’t survive if he did it again.
She eased away, reminding herself that she needed to protect her emotions—and heart—at all costs. Letting her defenses down or allowing herself to forget what Caleb had done would only make her weak.
And being weak was something she couldn’t afford.
