Chapter 35
chapter
thirty-five
Caleb watched Millie disappear down the hall, her shoulders tight and her steps quick.
He’d interrupted something. That much was obvious.
But what could she and his mother have been talking about?
Part of him didn’t want to know.
He turned back to his mother, who was already moving toward the stove, stirring the pot of Brunswick stew as if nothing had happened.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“What was what about?” His mom didn’t look at him.
“Mom.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her expression innocent. “The two of us were just talking.”
Caleb crossed his arms. “About?”
“Girl stuff.”
He didn’t believe her for a second, but he also knew better than to push. When his mother decided not to share something, there was no prying it out of her.
He moved to the counter and leaned against it, the weight of the day pressing down harder now that he’d stopped moving. “They identified the body.”
His mom’s hand stilled on the spoon. “Who was he?”
“Name is Ed Lowen. He was a private investigator out of Charlottesville.”
“Charlottesville?” She frowned. “That’s close.”
“Too close.” Caleb rubbed a hand over his face. “Sheriff’s looking into who hired him, but we don’t have answers yet. Could be connected to one of the women. Could be someone local with a grudge. We just don’t know.”
His mom set the spoon down and turned to face him fully. “I’m concerned about Millie.”
“She’s stressed. Scared. Thinks it might be connected to her ex.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t know.” He exhaled slowly. “But she’s barely holding it together.”
His mom studied him a long moment, her gaze too knowing. “You need to talk to her, Caleb.”
He stiffened. “About what?”
“You know what.” She gave him a pointed look.
He looked away. “I’m not looking for romance, Mom. That’s not what this is about.”
“I didn’t say you had to look for romance. But closure can do a lot. And that girl is carrying enough burdens as it is. Don’t add to them by leaving the past unspoken.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”
“How do you know? Have you asked?”
He didn’t answer.
His mom stepped closer, her voice softening. “Caleb, you’ve spent six years regretting what you did. Maybe it’s time to stop carrying it alone and tell Millie why you made the choice you did. Not because you’re looking for forgiveness. But because she deserves to know.”
Caleb wanted to argue. Wanted to say the timing was wrong, that Millie had too much on her plate already.
But his mother was right.
She usually was.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.
His mom nodded, seeming satisfied with his response.
Then she turned back to the stove. “Good. Now help me with dinner. I need you to set the table.”
Caleb pushed off the counter, grateful for the distraction even as his thoughts churned.
He dreaded that conversation.
But maybe—maybe it was time.
Millie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts refusing to settle.
Dinner had been good. Ruby’s Brunswick stew was everything comfort food should be—rich and hearty, and it had warmed her from the inside out. The stew was a tomato-based specialty, claimed by both Virginia and Georgia, that contained chicken, pork, corn, lima beans, and barbecue sauce.
But even good food couldn’t quiet the noise in her head.
A man had been murdered. On this property. Steps away from where she slept.
Ed Lowen. Private investigator.
The name circled through her mind, unanswered questions trailing behind it.
Who had hired him? What had he been looking for? And who had wanted him quiet badly enough to kill him?
She shifted onto her side, pulling the quilt higher, but sleep felt impossible.
Ruby’s words kept surfacing, unwelcome and insistent.
He always tries to do the right thing. Even when it costs him.
What did that mean?
What had Caleb given up by ending his relationship with her? What had cost him?
And why did part of her still care so much?
Biscuit sighed from his bed on the floor, a soft, contented sound that made her chest ache.
At least one of them could rest.
Millie sat up slowly, resigned to the fact that sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. Her throat felt dry, her thoughts too loud.
Water. She just needed water.
She slipped out of bed, pulled on a hoodie over her pajamas, and padded quietly to the door. Biscuit lifted his head, watching.
“Stay,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”
He settled again.
The hallway was dim, the house quiet except for the creak of old wood settling. She moved carefully down the stairs, one hand trailing along the railing.
The kitchen was dark, but a faint glow spilled from the living room.
The fireplace.
Someone else was awake.
Millie hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, debating whether to turn back.
Then a figure shifted in the living room, and her pulse kicked.
“Millie?” She recognized Caleb’s voice, low and surprised.
She exhaled slowly and stepped into view. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just came down for some water.”
He stood near the fireplace, one hand braced against the mantel. He’d changed into sweatpants and a thermal shirt, his feet bare, his hair slightly mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it.
He looked tired. And conflicted.
And entirely too handsome.
Her throat went dry at the sight of him.
“Can’t sleep either?”
She shook her head. “Too much going on in my head.”
Understanding flickered across his face. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Can we talk?”
Her chest tightened. “About what?”
“About us. About what happened six years ago.” His gaze held hers, steady but uncertain. “You don’t have to. But I think . . . I think you deserve an explanation. A real one.”
Millie’s heart thudded hard against her ribs.
She should say no. Should protect herself from reopening wounds that had barely scarred over.
But Ruby’s words whispered through her mind again.
He carries a lot of regrets.
Maybe she needed to hear this as much as Caleb needed to say it.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
Milie prayed this wasn’t a mistake.