Chapter 6 Millie
Millie
The smell of coffee and lemon cleaner fills the café, the kind that sticks to your clothes and lingers even after you’ve gone home. I stand behind the counter, towel in hand, pretending to focus on wiping down the espresso machine while my mind drifts somewhere it shouldn’t.
Knox.
I can still taste him. Still remember how he looked at me in that dim truck light, like he was caught between restraint and ruin.
It should’ve been nothing—a one-night stand, the kind you chalk up to impulse and alcohol and hormones—but it doesn’t feel like nothing.
It feels like a problem that’s too big to name.
My first one-night stand was with an out-of-towner at the bar. His name was Henry. And at the time, I had only been with Liam. But my best friend was out of town, and I decided to dip my toes in the water….
It went terribly.
The second man I slept with had thoroughly ruined the experience for me. Sloppy kisses. Too much talking. He was a Beta after all.
After that, I stuck to what I knew, what I was sure of. Just picked up where we left off, the way you step back into an old habit you know you should’ve outgrown.
And up until last night, I never actually planned on expanding my sexual roster.
But Knox… he’s different.
He doesn’t fit into the same category. There’s no history there, no safety net of familiarity. Just a man with gray eyes and hands that know how to touch.
And now, against all logic, I find myself wondering if maybe I should go back to Bar 2.0. Just to see if he’s there. Maybe he’d smile that slow smile again, the one that feels like gravity shifting in my direction.
“Earth to Millie,” Jessica calls from the other end of the counter, snapping her fingers in mock irritation. “You zoning out on me again?”
I blink back into the present, forcing a small smile. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime,” she teases, reaching for the broom propped against the wall. “I already swept up the front, but the storage room looks like a flour bomb went off. You sure you don’t want me to handle it?”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
She grins. “Please. Beats listening to you sigh at the espresso machine like it owes you money.”
I roll my eyes, but relief trickles through me. Jess offering to help clean is a blessing. After the night I had, my body still feels heavy, like I’m carrying around a secret that’s too warm to put down.
She hums while she works, soft and off-key, her ponytail bouncing with every sweep. There’s an ease about her I envy—Jess never overthinks, never hesitates. She just does. I wish I had that kind of confidence.
When I glance at the clock, it’s almost five. The mayor’s meeting will be starting soon, and we still have to lock up. I start to untie my apron, but Jess’s voice breaks through the clatter of chairs.
“So,” she says, drawing the word out like she’s picking her moment. “You and Liam still hanging out much?”
My grip on the apron strings falters. “Uh, yeah. A bit. Why?”
She shrugs, sweeping a pile of dust into the pan, but there’s a glint in her eyes I know too well. “Just curious. He’s single, right?”
I pause. “As far as I know.”
Her lips curve, all sly mischief. “Good. Because I was thinking of asking him out. He’s cute in that whole ‘tall, dark, probably brooding about something deep’ kind of way.”
There’s a pinch behind my ribs that I don’t want to name. It’s small and ridiculous and completely uncalled for, but it’s there. I laugh a little too brightly, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, he’s… he’s a good guy.”
Jess’s grin widens, oblivious to the knot forming in my stomach. “I thought so. You think he’d say yes?”
“Probably,” I say, forcing the word out like it doesn’t sting. “He’s not seeing anyone.”
Her smile softens. “Then wish me luck.”
“I will,” I manage, though my voice doesn’t sound like mine.
When she turns away, I exhale slowly, setting the towel down on the counter. The jealousy is stupid. Irrational. Liam and I ended things months ago. We were never really together. And yet, the thought of him with someone else—someone like Jess, bright and fearless—makes something inside me tighten.
Jess hums again, happy, while I wipe down the tables for the third time just to keep my hands busy.
By the time we lock up, the sun’s slipping low, the street glowing gold and amber. Jess tosses the keys into her bag. “You heading to the meeting?”
“Yeah,” I say, fishing my phone from my pocket. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
She waves and heads down the street, her steps light and confident. I’m halfway through putting the phone back when it buzzes.
Mom.
I sigh and answer. “Hey, Mom.”
“Millie! Finally,” she says, voice warm and bright through the line. “You’ve been quiet lately. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just busy.”
“That’s what you always say. Your father and I were talking last night, and we were wondering—why are you still staying there, sweetheart? I thought you’d have come back to New Jersey by now.”
I shift the phone to my other ear, watching the sunlight glint off the storefronts. “I like it here.”
“But you’ve been through so much already with that fire, and now the library—why not give yourself a fresh start? Thalia just started at Caldwell & Dyer, you know. A proper law firm in Jersey City. She says it’s demanding but wonderful.”
Caldwell & Dyer. Of course Thalia landed there. She always had a plan. Straight A’s, early internships, polished ambition. She’s the kind of woman who always knew how to turn every opportunity into something more.
“That’s great,” I say, meaning it, though it sounds flat even to my own ears.
“Maybe you should consider coming back,” Mom continues. “There’s always work here. You could even take some classes again. You were so good with your studies.”
I trace the seam of my jeans with my thumb. “I like helping people here. The town needs it, especially after the fire.”
“And how exactly are you helping?” she asks, soft but pointed.
I open my mouth, then close it. “I—hold on, Mom, there’s a customer. I’ll call you later.”
Before she can protest, I hang up.
The lie sits heavy.
The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing.
I’m twenty, and somehow everyone expects me to have a direction—a purpose.
I thought the library would give me that.
Thought organizing shelves, helping kids with their reading lists, and breathing in that familiar smell of paper and ink would make me useful.
But now that the library’s gone, I’m just… here. Floating. Pretending that I’m making choices when mostly I’m avoiding them.
Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe I should’ve gone with Thalia.
The thought makes my chest tighten, so I push it away and head toward town hall.
Halfway there, I nearly bump into Cora rushing across the street, her arms full of folders and her hair barely holding onto its bun.
“You’re late too?” she says breathlessly.
“Perpetually,” I assure her, forcing a smile.
She laughs, looping her arm through mine. “At least we can blame each other if they glare.”
We hurry inside together, the sound of voices spilling from the meeting room. The mayor’s already talking, his tone measured and official. Something about reconstruction funds and safety protocols. I nod along as if I’m listening, but my mind’s already slipping somewhere else.
I scan the crowd, searching instinctively for familiar faces. No Maddox. No Liam. The empty seats near the back, where they sometimes prefer sitting, are also empty.
I suspected Liam would skip out on this, but Maddox? He’s a firefighter and they work with cops, right? I’m not sure their captain would let him miss this.
I sit anyway, pulling my phone from my bag just to have something to do with my hands.
Social media’s a highlight reel, and tonight it feels like a mirror tilted at the wrong angle.
Thalia’s tagged at Caldwell & Dyer, standing in a glass office with skyline views.
Ava’s teaching at a university. Jackson’s cataloging rare manuscripts at the Boston Library.
Every scroll feels like a reminder that I stayed behind.
Am I making a mistake?
Driftwood’s small, safe, familiar. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ve been hiding here, pretending it’s purpose when it’s really fear. Fear of starting over somewhere bigger, scarier. Fear of realizing I’m not as capable as everyone else seems to think I am.
Cora leans over, whispering, “You okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“Just tired,” I say quickly, sliding my phone face down.
But the question lingers long after the meeting drones on.
What if I left?
What if I went back to school—not for library science this time, but something new? Editing, maybe. I always loved words, loved the rhythm of sentences, the way stories fit together. I could study again, start fresh, create something that isn’t built on ashes.
Then again, maybe I’m just running from the fact that everything’s changing. Liam’s pulling away. Maddox is quieter lately.
And Knox… Knox is a thought I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. How can one night with this man have me so twisted inside?
He’s not like the others. With Liam, it was comfort.
My crush on Shepard, on the other hand, was unspoken—something that simmered just under the surface, never fully acknowledged. And see how well that turned out in the end!
But Knox? He’s possibility. He’s the first man in a long time who made me feel… something.
I trace the rim of my paper cup, lost in the sound of the mayor’s voice fading in and out.
Maybe I’ll go to Bar 2.0 again. Just once. See if he’s there. Maybe he won’t be. Maybe he will. And maybe, for a few hours, I’ll stop feeling like I’m standing still while everyone else is moving forward.
The thought lingers as the meeting drags on. I glance around the room one last time, and for a heartbeat, I swear I can almost feel Knox’s eyes on me—steady, knowing, dangerous in the way comfort never is.
The mayor clears his throat, calling for volunteers for next week’s cleanup effort, and Cora nudges me with her elbow. “You in?”
I nod automatically, but my mind’s already elsewhere—on a bar by the cliffs, a man with storm-colored eyes, and a question I’m not ready to answer.
What if the thing I’m looking for isn’t purpose, or home, or even direction—what if it’s him?
What if the thing I need is romance?