“Millie.” His boots move closer. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head.
If I speak, I’ll fall apart.
A second later, strong hands grasp my arms. He pulls me up and spins me around to face him.
I try to look anywhere but at his face. I fail.
His expression is tight. Confused. Frustrated.
“Why are you packing?”
I swallow, but the words still come out broken. “I’m leaving.”
His brows pull together. “What?”
“You want me to go,” I say, my voice rising. “So I’m leaving.”
His grip tightens. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re sending me to Chicago!” I shout. “Sending me away. You don’t want me here. You never did.”
His eyes widen slightly, like the thought never even crossed his mind.
“That’s not—”
“It’s fine!” I cut him off. “You helped me. I’m grateful. I won’t make this harder for you. I’ll just go.”
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me.
“Millie,” he says, his voice rough now. “Stop.”
“No!” I shove at his chest. “You don’t get to decide when I leave. I’m not something you can just—just move around when it’s convenient.”
His jaw flexes. “You think this is about convenience?”
“What else could it be?” My throat burns. “You’re tired of me. I knew this would happen. I always know.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “I am not tired of you.”
“Then why are you sending me away?”
“Because you almost got hurt today!” The words explode out of him. The room goes still. “I can’t keep you safe here,” he continues, breathing hard. “Not with them still around.”
“Them?” I whisper.
He drags a hand through his hair, pacing once before turning back to me. “The men on that street. They’re not random. They’re part of my past.”
I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”
His gaze locks on mine. For a moment, he looks…younger. Vulnerable.
“I used to be in a gang.”
The words hang in the air.
My heart drops. “What?”
