Ed Lowen. Private investigator.
The name circled through her mind, unanswered questions trailing behind it.
Who had hired him? What had he been looking for? And who had wanted him quiet badly enough to kill him?
She shifted onto her side, pulling the quilt higher, but sleep felt impossible.
Ruby’s words kept surfacing, unwelcome and insistent.
He always tries to do the right thing. Even when it costs him.
What did that mean?
What had Caleb given up by ending his relationship with her? What had cost him?
And why did part of her still care so much?
Biscuit sighed from his bed on the floor, a soft, contented sound that made her chest ache.
At least one of them could rest.
Millie sat up slowly, resigned to the fact that sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. Her throat felt dry, her thoughts too loud.
Water. She just needed water.
She slipped out of bed, pulled on a hoodie over her pajamas, and padded quietly to the door. Biscuit lifted his head, watching.
“Stay,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”
He settled again.
The hallway was dim, the house quiet except for the creak of old wood settling. She moved carefully down the stairs, one hand trailing along the railing.
The kitchen was dark, but a faint glow spilled from the living room.
The fireplace.
Someone else was awake.
Millie hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, debating whether to turn back.
Then a figure shifted in the living room, and her pulse kicked.
“Millie?” She recognized Caleb’s voice, low and surprised.
She exhaled slowly and stepped into view. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just came down for some water.”
He stood near the fireplace, one hand braced against the mantel. He’d changed into sweatpants and a thermal shirt, hisfeet bare, his hair slightly mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it.
He looked tired. And conflicted.
And entirely too handsome.
Her throat went dry at the sight of him.
“Can’t sleep either?”
She shook her head. “Too much going on in my head.”
