Chapter 8 Millie #2
“Millie.” He says my name like a warning, but it only makes me push harder.
“What did I do? Is this about last night? Because if it’s about what I said—”
He laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “You didn’t say anything wrong. You just keep pretending nothing’s wrong.”
I blink, confused. “Then tell me what’s wrong, Liam. Please. You’re scaring me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a slow circle. We’re moving around each other, careful and tense, like two people in a fight neither of us wanted to start. “You don’t get it,” he mutters.
“Then make me get it!” My voice breaks this time. “You can’t just walk out and expect me to act like it doesn’t matter. You’re my best friend. You—you can’t just leave.”
His head snaps up at that. When his eyes meet mine, they’re full of something raw. Not anger. Something worse. “I can’t sleep under the same roof as you,” he says quietly, every word deliberate, “knowing you’re sleeping with other people when I’m in love with you.”
Everything inside me goes still.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. The room feels smaller suddenly, like the walls are closing in.
“Liam…” I whisper.
He looks away, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to know who it is,” he says, voice shaking slightly.
“I don’t want to know how many. I just—can you at least spare me the dignity of pretending it’s nothing?
You have never lied to me, Millie. The fact that you won’t tell me about this makes me think it’s not something I can actually bear hearing. ”
I take a step toward him. “Please. Don’t do this. You’re tired. You don’t mean it.”
He does, though. I can see it written all over him—the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the resignation. He shoulders the duffel bag, his movements stiff.
“Liam, please. Just talk to me.”
He hesitates, and for a second, I think maybe he’ll put the bag down. Maybe we can sit, figure this out like we always do. But then he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
My chest tightens, breath coming fast now. “You’re overreacting. We’ve fought before—”
“This isn’t a fight, Millie,” he says, cutting me off. His voice is calm again, too calm. “This is me trying to save what’s left of us before I start hating you.”
He moves to the door, hand on the knob. I can barely stand still. Every part of me wants to grab his arm, make him look at me, beg him not to go. But my feet won’t move. My throat feels like it’s closing.
“Please,” I whisper again.
He doesn’t turn. “Goodbye, Millie.”
The door opens. The cold air rushes in. And then he’s gone.
The sound of it closing echoes through the whole house.
For a long time, I just stand there, staring at the space where he was. My mind won’t catch up. Nimbus pads out from the kitchen, tail twitching, looking from me to the door as if waiting for him to come back. I sink onto the couch, hands shaking.
The silence is unbearable.
My eyes land on the coffee table, and that’s when I see it.
A tall plastic cup sweating condensation—iced coffee. There’s no note. No explanation. Just that small gesture sitting there like a goodbye I didn’t see coming.
The sight of it breaks something in me.
The first tear slips down before I can stop it, then another, until I’m crying so hard I can barely breathe. My hands shake as I press them to my face.
He made me coffee. And then he left.
Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he never knew about Henry.
Maybe he didn’t even guess about Knox. But that’s almost worse, isn’t it? Because I never thought about what it would do to him if he did. I never thought about any of it.
He loved me. He actually loved me.
And I didn’t see it until now.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the iced coffee until the ice melts completely. My sobs turn into small hiccuping breaths, my chest hollow and sore.
Nimbus jumps onto the couch beside me, curling into my lap like he’s trying to fix what he doesn’t understand. I stroke his fur absently, fingers trembling.
He’s gone.
Liam’s gone.
And for the first time since the fire, I realize just how fragile everything I’ve built here is.
If he tells Maddox—and of course he’ll tell Maddox—then what? Maddox will take his side. They always take each other’s side. And when they do, I’ll be the one left standing alone.
No Liam. No Maddox. No one.
I press my hand to my mouth, trying to steady my breathing, but panic claws up anyway. The thought of losing them both feels like falling through ice—cold, sharp, merciless.
Why didn’t I think about this sooner? Why did I have to ruin everything?
One impulsive night. One stupid mistake with a man I barely know.
The sheriff.
The word rings in my head, mocking. The new sheriff. The man the whole town just met and already trusts. And me—the girl dumb enough to climb into his truck and make it impossible to ever look him in the eye again.
“Shit,” I whisper, voice cracking. “What did I do?”
The clock ticks louder in the quiet. The house feels emptier than it ever has. The morning light spills across the table, glinting off the coffee.
I reach for it, fingertips brushing the condensation. It’s still cold. He must have made it just before he left.
A lump rises in my throat again. I close my eyes and take a shaky breath.
I love Liam. I know that now. I love him more than anyone. But not more than I love what we had—the friendship that’s been the only solid thing in my life for years. And now that too is gone, slipping through my hands because I was too busy pretending everything was fine.
Nimbus lifts his head, purring softly, and I realize I’m crying again. I wipe my face, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does.
I’ve never felt this alone.
If he tells Maddox, if word gets around, if they both decide I’m not worth the trouble—then Driftwood will stop feeling like home. It’ll just be another place I don’t belong in.
The coffee sits there like proof of something I didn’t see until too late—how much he cared, how badly I hurt him, how easily love can turn into distance.
I press my palm to the cup, the cold seeping into my skin. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, but he’s not here to hear it.