17. Millie
Millie
After a breakfast that Strike didn’t join, Millie checked her phone, but the only emails were from her clients and family. Her clients were mostly grateful she’d organised new counsellors for them due to her “family situation.” Only her mum and Dexter had her number.
Her mum sent over photos of her parents sunning themselves on the cruise and a message asking why she was using a new number, as if she hadn’t already explained it.
She fiddled with the fidget tool Strike hadn’t requested back and replied.
Millie: Just an issue with my phone. Nothing to worry about.
She recalled the speed of his fingers when he played with it. She’d read books where soldiers deactivated guns in less than a minute. He’d be able to do that.
She glanced at the doorway, expecting him to appear, but he wasn’t there.
Her fingers tapped on the phone’s app store. She didn’t want to download the app she used to sext random men, but the chat with Strike left her on edge. She’d never tell him he was the one man she’d slept with. He’d pity her, or worse.
Besides, he wasn’t a man at the end of an app she could ignore when it got too intense.
Millie tidied the clothes and books from Liss into a new rucksack as she waited for Strike. She wanted to stop feeling powerless, but the app wouldn’t be enough.
She checked her laptop, wondering if she should contact anyone else from her Hugo list.
Her phone vibrated with a call.
“Why have you got a new number?” Dexter asked as soon as she answered.
“Ignoring pleasantries as usual.” Millie sat on her bed. “No ‘hello, beautiful sister. How are you?’”
Dexter grumbled. “Hey, little sister, why are you always so difficult? Mum messaged me. She’s concerned about you.”
“What’s new?” One minute her mum told her she wasn’t living her life, the next she worried because Millie was doing as asked.
Dexter huffed. She hated that sound. It made her feel incompetent. “She cares about you. You know what she’s like.”
“You don’t need to check up on me because she told you to.
I have a flat, a job I’m good at, and I function bloody well considering my family thinks I can’t change my number without the full force of the army getting involved,” she snapped.
Her head dropped, and she fiddled with Strike’s fidget tool.
“I lost my phone and needed a temporary replacement.”
A shadow appeared in her doorway. Strike met her stare.
Sorry, he mouthed.
Millie beckoned him in, and he sat beside her as Dexter lectured. If anyone understood her family’s behaviour, it was Strike, although he must pity her because her family still treated her like she was a child.
“We all worry about you. You went to that singles evening and then changed your number. It’s out of character,” Dexter replied.
“It’s a coincidence. I forget how predictable I am.”
Strike reached for the tool, running the twisty plastic between his fingers. He pushed up the sleeves of his Henley, revealing the little hairs covering his defined forearms.
Fighting with him earlier had given her a buzz. He wanted to protect her, but he still snapped at her. As she imagined how much fun he’d be to wrestle, her face heated.
“Being predictable isn’t bad, Millie,” Dexter replied.
She studied Strike’s mouth. He licked his lips under her gaze. She wanted to taste him, but she also wanted him to leave her alone. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared back.
“I’m thinking of going on holiday for a couple of weeks,” she said as Strike continued to survey her, his face blank.
“Where and who with?”
Her mouth dried. “I… to the seaside.” She worried her lip and grabbed the tool back. “I’m going with… with…”
Someone from uni, Strike mouthed. You bumped into them at the singles event.
She repeated Strike’s idea to her brother.
“Who?” Dexter asked. “In case mum asks.”
“You don’t have to protect me,” she said, staring at Strike, whose face cracked. His side smile tugged at her heart.
Sorry, he mouthed.
“Gilly from my counselling course. She’s lovely. She still lives with her parents, and she’s a counsellor for…” She tapped her fingers against her thigh. “… children.”
She held her breath. Strike’s fingers curled around hers, making shivers zip down her spine.
“I insist you check in every couple of days and message me the address of where you’re staying,” he replied.
Millie gritted her teeth, and Strike ran the back of his finger against her jaw, easing its tension.
“For all I know, you’ve been kidnapped, and I’m not speaking to the real Millie but someone faking your voice. ”
“For fuck’s sake, Dex,” Millie said. “Tell your wife all the ways you’ve gone over the top in this conversation so she can remind you that you’re ridiculous.”
“Whatever. Call me in two days, or I’ll call you. Love you, Pixie.”
“Sod off, dickweed. I love you too.” She ended the call, and her thoughts scattered as Strike’s fingers intwined with hers.
“Sorry,” he said again.
Her gaze dropped to where their hands were linked. He had no scars or tattoos. He was unblemished, but his heart seemed so damaged. “That’s three times. You’ve got to stop saying sorry.”
“I’ve got to stop fucking up and needing a reason to say it,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you have a say in what we do next.”
“Has Liss spoken to you?”
Strike laughed. It was a warm, honeyed sound, similar to his laugh when they were young and yet filled with the deep tones of a man. She closed her eyes and prayed she’d hear the sound again. “No. I came up with it all myself this time. I’m learning, Doc.”
She smiled but still couldn’t meet his stare. “I’m impressed.” He chuckled again. It was a glorious sound. “What else have you learned?”
“That your family are as protective as they used to be, and I don’t want to be like that. I want you to have freedom and a choice in this.” His skin was as smooth as it was unmarked, and she fought the need to test if his arms were the same. “And I should let you have ‘agency.’”
It was her turn to laugh. “I’m proud of you.”
“Do I get a reward?”
She stared at him, surprised. “Ummm, what do you want?” she stuttered.
“Sweets. Always sweets,” he replied. His off-centre smile disappeared. So he wasn’t flirting. It was for the best. She retracted her hand from his.
“You should eat something other than sweets. You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”
“Did you miss me?”
Millie rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself. I’m allowed to worry about people.”
He hunched his shoulders. “It’s nice to have someone worrying about me, especially you. I was in the gym and then ate while I made plans with Cam. I’d like to discuss them with you.”
“And give me a say in them?” She stood and faked a smile.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “You said earlier you need space, and I ruined your downtime this morning. Do you want to get some fresh air with the dogs before we leave? By the end of tonight, you could be back in London and away from these views.”
Her mouth dried. Was this his goodbye?
He brushed his thumb to her brow, easing the furrows. “You’re thinking too hard, Doc. It’s just a walk.”