chapter
twenty-three
Millie lifted her mug,more for something to do than because she needed the warmth. Her pulse refused to slow—even when Caleb dropped his hand as if he’d sensed she wanted him to do so.
“Can I ask you something?” She kept her tone light.
Caleb nodded. “Sure.”
She stared into the tea for a moment, choosing her words with care. “The new woman. Valentina.”
His attention sharpened, just slightly. “What about her?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, immediately wanting to take her words back. “It’s probably nothing. I just—she seems . . . familiar.”
He waited for her to continue.
“I’m not saying that means anything,” Millie added. “I just know this place runs on trust. I figured if anyone noticed anything was a little off, it would be you.”
Caleb didn’t answer right away. He only stared at the fire as if he were deep in thought.
Millie suddenly felt foolish, like she’d overstepped. She shouldn’t have said anything. “I was just curious if you’d noticed . . . anything. Never mind. It’s really nothing.”
He studied her a beat longer, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve had questions about her too. Nothing concrete. Just . . . small things that didn’t quite add up.”
Relief flooded through Millie. She wasn’t imagining it.
“Her story’s almost too perfect,” he continued. “And the timing—showing up right before all this started.”
“Exactly.”
“You should try to get some sleep.” Caleb’s gaze met hers, a new somberness and worry there. “I know it sounds ridiculous right now, but tomorrow’s coming either way.”
“Right. Sleep.”
He hesitated, like something else hovered on his tongue. “If you need anything—anything at all—you wake me. Okay?”
“Okay.” But she had no intent of doing that.
She stood, Biscuit rising with her.
She left her mug in the dishwasher and headed toward the stairs. As she did, she resisted the urge to look back at Caleb.
She didn’t want him to see her if she did—because then he might know just how much their breakup had devastated her . . . and how some of her feelings had never faded.
Caleb stayed where he was long after he heard Millie’s bedroom door upstairs close.
The living room had gone quiet again, the fire settling into a low, steady burn. He stared at the empty space where Millie had sat, replaying the way her shoulders had tensed before she spoke Valentina’s name.
She seems familiar.
Millie hadn’t pushed. In true Millie fashion, she’d wrapped the concern in casual language and then tried to take it back as soon as it was out.
That didn’t mean her instincts were wrong.
Caleb knew that if Millie had learned anything in the last few years, it was how to notice patterns and keep quiet until she understood them. He’d seen it tonight—with the dogs, with the way she’d moved through chaos without losing her head.
Curiosity wasn’t what had driven her to ask.
