Chapter 37
chapter
thirty-seven
Caleb and Millie sat in silence a moment, the fire crackling between them.
He waited for Millie to process what he’d told her. It was a lot to unpack, and he knew that. He didn’t want to rush her.
When Millie spoke again, her voice was quieter. “I eventually convinced myself I was better off without you. That you’d done me a favor by leaving before things got too serious.” She paused. “Then I met Garrick.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened at the name.
“He was everything you weren’t. Present. Attentive. He made grand gestures and said all the right things. I thought—this is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is what love looks like.” She paused, her hands twisting in her lap. “I was wrong.”
Caleb leaned forward, his voice urgent. “If I hadn’t left you—if I’d stayed—maybe you never would’ve met him. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.”
“No.” Millie looked at him then, her eyes red but fierce. “You don’t get to take responsibility for that. Garrick fooled me. That’s on him. And it’s on me for not seeing the signs sooner. But it’s not on you.”
“But—”
“Caleb, you broke my heart,” she said, her voice trembling. “And that hurt. It hurt so much. But what Garrick did—that’s different. That’s not your fault. Don’t carry that.”
Their gazes locked, and something shifted in the air between them.
The space suddenly felt smaller. Charged.
Caleb saw it in Millie’s eyes—the same pull he felt. The same unresolved feelings neither of them had been able to bury completely.
She still cared.
And so did he.
“I never stopped thinking about you.” His confession slipped out before he could stop it. “Not once.”
Millie’s breath hitched.
Then, slowly, she reached out.
She touched his cheek, her palm warm against his skin.
He closed his eyes at the contact, something inside him breaking open.
When he opened them again, Millie was closer.
Their foreheads came together, gentle and tentative as if they were both testing whether this was real.
“Caleb,” she whispered.
“I know.”
They stayed like that, suspended in the moment, breath mingling, hearts pounding.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them pulled away.
The fire crackled. The house settled.
And somewhere between forgiveness and longing, between past and present, they hovered on the edge of something neither was quite ready to name.
The moment stretched between them, the air thick with longing and unspoken promises. Millie could hardly breathe as the conversation replayed in her mind. As her past and present collided.
Caleb’s hand came up, his fingers grazing her jaw.
Millie’s eyes fluttered closed.
She felt his breath against her lips, warm and unsteady.
More than anything, she wanted to lean a little closer. She wanted to remember what their kisses had been like.
She wanted a do-over.
And if she let herself, she could imagine it happening . . .
Then a floorboard creaked overhead.
They both froze.
Footsteps. Light. Careful.
Someone was coming downstairs.
Caleb pulled back immediately, his hand dropping from her face as they both turned toward the staircase.
A moment later, Sissy appeared, one hand on the railing, the other cradling her rounded belly. Her hair was mussed from sleep, and she wore an oversized sweater over flannel pajama pants.
She stopped when she saw them, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You’re not.” Millie leaned away from Caleb, her cheeks warm. “We were just . . . talking.”
Sissy’s gaze flicked between them, a knowing look crossing her face, but she didn’t comment. “I had a craving. Pickles. Stereotypical, right? But I can’t sleep until I get some.”
“No worries.” Caleb’s voice sounded steady despite the tension still humming between them. “Help yourself to whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” Sissy moved past them toward the kitchen, offering an apologetic smile. “I’ll be quick.”
As she disappeared around the corner, the sound of the refrigerator opening filled the silence.
Millie exhaled slowly, grateful for the interruption.
She’d been letting her emotions lead her, and that was never good.
Whatever had been building between them—that pull, that dangerous warmth—it needed to stop.
She couldn’t afford to lose herself in Caleb again.
Not when so much was at stake.
Caleb cleared his throat. “I should probably let you get some sleep.”
“Yeah. Probably should. Me too.”
Their eyes met once more, and for a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Caleb leaned back again. “Good night, Millie.”
“Good night.”
He stood and headed for his room, his footsteps measured and deliberate.
Millie stayed by the fire, listening to Sissy rummaging in the kitchen, trying to ignore the ache in her chest.
The moment was gone.
And she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated.