20. Milo
MILO
M ilo’s grin was instant, sharp and boyish, when he saw her expression shift. She lit up like a struck match the second she saw her sister. The giddy spark in her voice was so unlike the woman who’d been cursing his name just hours ago, it nearly knocked the wind from his lungs.
She reached for the handle without hesitation.
He had, of course, locked the doors.
“Unlock the fucking door,” she whined, yanking at it like sheer willpower might make it budge.
“Hold on.” He held up a hand. “There are ground rules.”
She let out a groan and pressed her face to the window, eyes locked on the pair not far off. Her breath fogged the glass, clouding her vision, as she listened to him. Or at least, he was hoping she was listening.
“Don’t try to run. Don’t make a scene. When I say it’s time to go, we leave.”
She snapped her head toward him, eyes flashing like light glinting off ice.
“Fine. If we’re running on your schedule, I’d like to get out there and see her, since we’re losing time.”
Milo pressed the unlock button without another word, and Willow was out of the SUV before he turned back around.
She nearly stumbled in her rush, but caught herself, legs flying beneath her.
He watched her go—his girl, sweet and gentle and radiant—tearing through the open green toward the one person who mattered most to her.
Willow collided with her sister in a tight hug. Poppy wrapped her arms around her younger sister with a softness that made Milo’s throat tighten. Arlo stood nearby at a respectful distance, his expression unreadable.
Milo felt his chest ache differently now.
It wasn’t just about Willow seeing Poppy.
It was Arlo’s absence, too.
Milo killed the engine and stepped out, the door closing behind him with a hollow thunk. He locked it with a quiet chirp of confirmation and strode toward the reunion unfolding before him.
Poppy had her hands on Willow’s face, cradling it like she was trying to memorize every feature—or maybe confirm they hadn’t been altered. Her fingers pressed in hard enough that Willow winced, but she didn’t pull away.
He gave them space, or an illusion of it.
Every word between them drifted to him on the breeze.
He could’ve recited the conversation word for word if pressed.
But he didn’t linger on it and tried his best to put it out of his mind.
Instead of eavesdropping, Milo turned toward Arlo, whose mouth twitched up into a half-smile as they closed the distance between them.
The two clasped each other in a firm, brotherly hug. Arlo thudded a hand against his back, the sound solid and grounding. Milo squeezed once before letting go, the gesture quiet but deeply felt.
“How’s she doing?” Arlo asked, nodding toward the sisters with a lift of his chin.
“She’s a handful,” Milo replied, arms folding across his chest as he watched Willow hug Poppy. “But we’re making progress. Turns out that intel you dropped on me was dead-on.”
Arlo let out a barking laugh. “But I’m guessing you didn’t knot her.”
Milo’s head whipped toward him. “How the fuck would you know that?”
“She can walk straight.”
They both chuckled, the kind of laughter that only came from understanding what Willow soon would. The tension that had strung Milo tight over the past few days began to bleed off in the warmth of their shared humor.
Arlo clapped him on the back. “The bond runs deep. You’re in her head now. It’s only a matter of time. ”
Milo grunted softly, but his focus was elsewhere. Willow’s tone had shifted, drawing his attention like a magnet. He tilted his head just slightly, tuning in to the conversation he wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on.
“Has he… hurt you?” Poppy’s voice was barely audible, strained and trembling.
“No,” Willow replied without hesitation. “None of them have.”
“Do you promise me?”
“Yes.”
That was enough to make the corner of Milo’s mouth curl, smug and quiet.
She could’ve said anything, especially after what happened in the kitchen. But she didn’t. She hadn’t twisted the truth. She told her sister he hadn’t hurt her.
Because he hadn’t.
Because she wanted it. Whether she was ready to admit that out loud or not.
Arlo followed Milo’s gaze, eyes narrowing slightly with understanding.
“She’s sharp,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Bit of a smartass, but sweet under the surface. Asked a lot of questions, but she’s playing nice—for now.”
Milo nodded, barely absorbing the words. His attention was locked on Willow like he was watching prey, except there was no intent to harm; just to possess. She was all sunshine bound by tension, laughing with her sister, her body language betraying the war waging inside her.
He’d seen it.
And he recognized it now.
“She’s softening,” Milo muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
“Dangerous thing, underestimating your target,” Arlo offered carefully.
“I’m not underestimating her,” Milo said, eyes dark. “Trust me. I have a game plan.”
He shifted slightly, adjusting the discomfort growing beneath his jeans.
He was just waiting for nightfall.
***
They didn’t leave for hours, Milo allowing the sisters as much time as he could.
The ride back was tense, marked by a fragile silence, occasionally broken by sniffles.
Willow had turned her face to the window, cheek pressed to the glass, trying to disappear into the passing landscape.
Milo didn’t need to look to know she was crying—he could smell it.
Salt laced with sorrow, sharp in his nose.
They were leaving behind the only tether she had to normalcy, and she was unraveling at the seams.
“You know,” he said, voice low and raw, “I feel the same when Arlo’s not with me.”
Willow’s breath hitched, a soft, wet sound. “Like hell you do,” she whispered, swiping at her face with the back of her hand. Milo didn’t argue. Just adjusted his grip on the wheel, knuckles white, and kept driving into the quickly fading daylight.
As soon as the tires crunched against the gravel drive, Willow was out of the SUV like a shot, her figure blurring past the hood before the engine had even gone quiet.
Milo sat frozen behind the wheel, hands slack in his lap, heart twisting painfully in his chest. Watching her cry felt like watching glass shatter in slow motion.
It would be easy for him to follow. To close the space between them, gather her trembling form in his arms, and hold her until her sobs subsided.
Still, he knew she’d reject him.
For now, there were business matters to tend to.
With a rough sigh, Milo shifted into reverse, cutting the wheel.
His hands gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, every fiber of him resisting the act of leaving her behind.
What he wanted was to charge back through that door, wrap her up in his arms, and shield her from everything that weighed on her mind.
But she wasn’t ready for that.
Not yet.