12. Millie
Millie
As she plunged her hands into the hot water to wash her breakfast items, she let out a puff of air.
She’d overreacted. Everyone must think she was a child. She didn’t know if it was learning everyone thought Strike had slept with her bully or the way he’d talked about her. He’d forgiven someone who’d tried to break her.
Because he didn’t know. He wasn’t there when she did it.
It was at its worst the year after he left, and he had no idea.
Millie’s shoulders lowered as the suds covered her arms up to her elbows, and she focused on being in the moment by returning to her senses, taking in the strawberry-scented washing-up liquid and the framed quote in front of her.
With you, I’m finally home.
It seemed such an out of place quote for Bear, the man who’d damaged more people with his fists than his heart as a teenager, but with Liss, he came alive, and she was a force that said and did anything when she was with him.
Millie didn’t have that, not with anyone. Growing up, she’d behaved to make her family happy, and from university onwards, she’d only shown her authentic self in bursts online. No one got to witness the real her.
Some days, she wasn’t sure who she really was.
And then there was the way Strike had behaved in the gym.
She’d gone to check on him, the curse of being a counsellor and caring for people, but what she’d witnessed changed everything.
She’d presumed Strike had found it easy to leave her because he hadn’t cared and she’d meant nothing to him, but watching him cause himself harm through exercise told her otherwise.
That and his need to use the fidget tool when she was around told her he was a lot more affected than he let on.
But he was keeping it all bottled up, and even though she’d regret it, she wanted to help him release all the things that were stopping him from expressing his emotions.
She wanted to be there for him.
Boots clicked behind her. The scent of men’s aftershave and lavender stilled her.
“Sorry about that,” Stal said. “I shouldn’t have stirred things. Can I help?”
She turned to find him shifting his feet. He gripped his plate so tightly, she was surprised it was still in one piece. “Sure. I can wash, if you’re happy to dry.”
“Yeah.”
She’d expected Strike, but he probably didn’t think he had a reason to speak to her.
She’d studied Stal over breakfast. When he wasn’t eating, he was chewing his lips. His dark-rimmed eyes suggested sleepless nights. He might always be like this, but the counsellor in her guessed something was wrong.
They worked in silence for a while. She got the impression he was the kind of guy who didn’t chat, and yet it was as if he’d sought her out.
“Strike said you’re a counsellor.”
“I am,” she replied. “My clients come to me about all sorts of things.”
“Right.”
He cleared his throat several times.
“When people speak to you, does it remain confidential?” There it was. Her instincts were fucked around Strike, but they still worked with others.
“When I’m counselling, it does, unless it’s something that could harm the client or others.”
He paused as she rubbed grease from the bacon dish.
“I got news a fortnight ago,” he revealed.
“Only Strike’s parents know, not the team.
” Millie nudged her glasses with the back of her wrist as she continued to wash plates for Stal to dry.
“I got a woman pregnant. She was a one-night stand. I only found out when she left a two-week-old outside my house and bolted.”
“That’s a lot to deal with suddenly. How are you doing?”
He sighed loudly. “Badly.”
“How come?”
“I never expected to be a dad, and I’m not sure I wanted to be, but now I’m a single dad, and I’ve no clue what I’m doing. I didn’t know my own well. We moved a lot when I was a child. He was in the army as well.”
“Is your mum around?”
“Yeah, she’s perfect,” he said softly, “but she lives in the Midlands. Jenny—the kid, my kid—and I moved in with Strike’s parents secretly a fortnight ago.”
“How’s that been?”
“They’re supportive, brilliant really, but I’m so tired, and I’ve no idea what I’m doing.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and held his tea towel tight to his chest. “Suddenly, I have to care about someone other than myself. I need to give a future to this crying, hungry stranger.”
“How does caring about her feel?”
“Weird.” His eyes were glassy as he winced.
“There’s this pull on my heart to protect Jenny even now.
How can I have the life I have now while raising her?
As a bodyguard, I’m always travelling and facing constant uncertainty.
And I can’t get attached to her because her mum could return and take her.
I’ve searched for her, but I don’t even know her name.
I don’t know what to do or who to speak to.
Since Jenny came into my life, I’m terrified all the time. ”
It wasn’t unusual for people to open up readily to a stranger, yet she was surprised every time.
“You haven’t told your team about Jenny?”
“No. I don’t know how they’ll react. But it’s getting harder to do this job when I’m managing sleepless nights and exhausting days.” He rubbed his head. Millie caught the shape of Strike in the doorway, watching. “What should I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
“To tell them. I can’t do this without them knowing, but what do I say?”
Millie beckoned Strike over with a hand movement so slight Stal wouldn’t see it.
“From everything I’ve seen, you’re part of a team that cares.
You joke around, but there’s much more to you all.
And to be honest, Strike overheard us.” Stal turned to him.
“I’ll leave you two to chat. I’ll be in one of the spare bedrooms if you need me.
But you can do this. Most people prepare for months for a baby and have planned its arrival.
You won’t get it right, but you’re not alone either. ”
Stal embraced her. “Thank you, Millie. Strike was right. You’re amazing.”
Before she questioned his statement, Strike eased his hand on Stal’s shoulder. “Let’s take a walk. I want to hear about Jenny. I bet you’ve got photos.”
Stal’s lips stretched into a smile. “A couple hundred.”
“I’d like to see them.”
Millie left the kitchen and headed to her room to rest. She’d not spent this much time with people in years.