Chapter 10
Hurt Feelings and Explanations
Austin
After the sheriff’s office, I sat in Mason’s truck. He didn’t say much after the diner. He just grunted, handed me his thermos, and told me to “drink something.” The truck smelled like leather and woodsmoke, a scent that should’ve calmed me. Tonight, it didn’t.
Every turn of the tires replayed the same seconds: Arnie’s hand on Milly’s arm. Her face when I walked in. Her look wasn’t only made of fear—it was betrayal. The image replayed in my mind. My knuckles tightened on the door, and I hated how protective I felt. I hated how right it felt, too.
“She’s tough,” Mason said finally, his voice low enough I almost missed it over the rattle of the road. “You know that, right?”
I stared out at the dark pines sliding past. Each shadow a reminder that tonight I almost failed. “Doesn’t mean she should’ve had to prove it tonight.”
“Ya got it all wrong, buddy. The town’s already talkin’. Half the county wants to take shifts on her porch. She’s got an army, she’s got you, and she’s not alone.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “and her supposed bodyguard didn’t see it coming.”
Mason’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel in a slow rhythm.
“You can’t control everything, Adams.” His military use of my last name calmed me, but only a little.
“I don’t know what demons you’re running from, Adams, but Milly needs you.
She’s not just your mission. She’s a woman who just had the worst night of her life. She’s scared and confused.”
The mission—that word felt dirty now. I pressed my palms to my knees, listening to the hum of the engine.
“She trusts you,” he added, his eyes flicking my way. “Don’t waste that on guilt.”
Trust. That word hit like recoil. She had trusted me—until she realized I’d been keeping the whole story to myself.
The ranch lights came into view, faint in the distance, like the last glow of something burning out. Mason slowed near the house. “You sure you’re good?”
“Good’s not on the list tonight,” I said. “But I’ll manage.”
He nodded once, the unspoken language of soldiers and men who carry too much. “We’ll be on watch till morning. Send up a flare if you need backup,” Mason laughed.
I stepped out, boots hitting the gravel, and the night swallowed me. The air was cool and damp, a storm on the horizon, sharp with pine. Behind me, Mason’s truck rumbled away, taillights disappearing down the road.
The house waited at the end of the drive—warm light spilling from the living room window, moving shadows pacing behind the curtains.
Milly was awake. And I was about to walk into one of the hardest conversations of my life.
The porch creaked beneath my boots. From inside came the faint clatter of dishes—it was a noise that told stories, and if you listened, you could tell how much trouble you were in. Based on what I was hearing, I was in the doghouse without a blanket.
When I opened the door, I called out, “It’s just me.” Then I saw her. Standing at the sink, sleeves pushed up, washing a plate.
“Milly.”
“Everything’s fine.” Her voice was deceptively even.
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I said I’m fine.” She put the dish in the drying rack with a heavy clink, then shut off the water and dried her hands on a damp towel before throwing the towel on the counter. “I just want to forget tonight happened.”
“That makes two of us.”
She turned, eyes sharp and wet all at once. “Do you? Because you seem to know a lot about nights like this. Almost like you’ve been expecting one.”
I let out a breath. “You’re right. I’ve noticed a few things lately. Notes on the truck. Open gates. Missing feed. I didn’t want to worry you until—”
“Until what? Until someone grabbed me in a diner in front of half the town?” She laughed, but it was tight and cracked in the middle.
“You kept me in the dark, Austin. You’ve been checking locks, double-locking windows, pretending it’s nothing.
How long were you going to let me feel crazy before clueing me in?
How long were you going to let me think the missing feed, the open gates were just me being absent-minded? ”
“I wasn’t pretending.” I took a slow breath. “I was protecting you.”
Her eyes went wide, furious. “That’s not protection, Austin. That’s control.”
She pushed past me into the living room. I followed, keeping my distance.
“Milly, please.”
“Please what? Let you explain how I’m too fragile for the truth?” She spun toward me. “I came here to find a missing part of my past. I came here to start over, to stand on my own two feet. And now I find out the man I trust most has been running a secret op around me?”
“That’s not fair,” I said, though part of me knew it was.
She stopped pacing. “Then tell me why a Denver accountant knows more about my life than I do.”
The words jammed in my throat. For once, honesty felt harder than silence.
“Because Penny asked me to.” I held my breath and waited for the worst.
The air shifted. “What?” she huffed.
“She... she left instructions. For me. Before she died.” I rubbed a hand over my jaw, searching for words that wouldn’t sound like flimsy excuses.
“She wanted someone to look out for you. Quietly. She was afraid the inheritance might stir up trouble, and she thought if you knew you were being watched over, you’d never truly settle in and constantly look over your shoulder. She told me not to tell you.”
Milly blinked, and for a moment, I saw grief behind the anger.
“So, this was her idea. You were just following orders.” She did air quotes around the words ‘following orders.’ This was a trap.
I knew that. No matter how hard I tried, this was never going to be a solo mission.
I started falling for her before we got on the plane.
“At first.” I moved closer, careful. “It was black and white in the beginning—mission, objective, completion. That’s what I’ve always known.
” I took a shaky breath, and Milly’s eyes softened a little.
“You keep people safe; you don’t get attached.
” I gave a small, helpless laugh. “Turns out, Everwood doesn’t do black and white, and neither do you. ” I swallowed hard.
She sank onto the couch, quiet now, the fight draining out of her. “And what about now?”
“Now?” I sat beside her, not too close, just enough that the air between us hummed. “I am in uncharted territory. You stopped being an assignment a long time ago.”
The silence stretched. Then a soft thump broke it—Inspector hopped onto Milly’s lap, turned in three slow circles, and laid down, purring.
Milly’s fingers disappeared into his fur, trembling at first, then smoothing into rhythm. “You should’ve told me,” she whispered.
“I know. I thought I could separate it as I’ve always done. Duty and… everything else. I was wrong.”
Her shoulders sagged, and for the first time tonight, she didn’t look angry—just tired. “You can’t protect someone and keep them blind at the same time.”
“I know. I had Penny’s orders, then there was you, and I didn’t stand a chance. It was an impossible mission.”
She looked down at our hands resting on the couch cushion. Then a small smile played on her lips before she slid her fingers into mine. It was a small, simple act, but devastating.
My chest tightened. They say life happens when you’re busy making plans. Well, so does falling for your mission. “Penny wanted you safe, Milly, and so did I. But somewhere along the way, I stopped following her plan and started making my own. It just took tonight to realize the difference.”
Milly’s voice was soft. “And what’s your plan now?”
I met her eyes. “Honesty. Even when it’s messy. Even when it scares the crap out of me.”
Inspector’s tail flicked.
“Yep. Honesty.”
“I still protect you, but just a little closer.” I squeezed her hand.
She managed a faint smile. “Good. But I’m done being handled. I want to know everything, even the ugly parts.”
“Then you will.” I squeezed her hand again, thumb brushing her knuckles. “From now on, we’ll handle this side by side.”
Her breath hitched, and she nodded. “That works for me.”
I leaned back into the couch, still holding her hand. “You realize this means you’re going to have to put up with my security checklists.”
She sniffed a laugh. “Only if you let me color-code them.”
“Not a chance.”
And there it was—the tiniest spark of the Milly I knew, glinting through the cracks.
We sat like that long into the night, watching movies and drinking hot cocoa.
The cat purred like a motor between us. When she finally rested her head on my shoulder, I closed my eyes and thought about the letter from Penny.
Her mission was planned out in black and white, but she didn’t account for one variable—Milly. Maybe that was the point.
Milly hadn’t moved for a while. Her head rested against my shoulder, the cat sprawled across both of us. Every so often, she’d shift, and the couch would creak.
“Do you ever regret it?” she asked quietly. “Taking this on?”
I looked toward the window where stars dotted the sky. “Every day that I couldn’t tell you the truth. But never the part where it meant I got to know you.”
She turned her head just enough to see me. “You mean that?”
“Yeah. At first, I thought Penny picked me because I could follow orders. Keep things contained.” I smiled faintly. “Turns out, I think she picked me because she knew I wouldn’t be able to.”
Milly’s mouth curved. “She was sneaky that way. Always the meddler, always had a sneaky plan in her back pocket.”
“She was sneaky, wasn’t she? And now I get why she told me not to tell you. She was worried the truth would push you away before you ever felt at home here.”
“Guess it almost did.”
“Almost.”
Inspector lifted his head, blinked at us, then jumped down and padded toward the hallway. Milly shivered, and I pulled the Afghan from the back of the couch, draping it over her shoulders.
Milly snuggled closer, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “So, what happens now?”
I thought about all the plans I’d written, the contingency maps, the phone tree taped behind the office door. “Now?” I said. “We tackle this together.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like a plan.”
“Nope, not even close,” I admitted. “But this time, you get to write half of whatever it is.”
That earned me the first real laugh of the night.
I stood and offered her my hand. “Come on. You should see the sky.”
She hesitated, then slipped her fingers into mine, letting me lead her onto the porch.
Milly sat on the porch swing, arms folded. “You know,” she said, “if you’d told me about Penny’s letter the first week, I probably would’ve fired you.”
“I figured as much.”
“But,” she added, glancing sideways, “if you’d never told me, I would’ve stopped trusting you completely.”
“So either way, I’d lose.”
“Not tonight.” She reached over and laced our fingers again.
I looked at our hands. Her fingers weaving through mine, the hope and trust in her eyes, mixed with something like contentment.
I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, almost involuntarily.
The mission had made its way into my heart.
Milly leaned on me and rested her head on my shoulder.
It was nothing explosive or heated, but it was devastatingly intimate, and I knew I was hooked.
For a moment, the only sound was crickets and an owl hooting in the distance.
I squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of it chase away the cold still coiled in my chest. “I can live with that.”
She smiled faintly. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet, Mr. Adams.”