45. Chapter 45
Milo
Four days.
The number sits behind my teeth like a splinter, but Evie’s silence is worse. She’s made herself impossible to reach. Every time I try to speak to her, she finds another reason to leave. She makes these last days hurt more by treating me as though I’m already gone.
When I walk into the kitchen, Evie has coffee brewing and chocolate chip cookies in the oven.
“Can I talk to you?”
Her hand stills on the counter. “About?”
“Yesterday.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was a mistake.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I take a step closer. “What I said—”
“You can stop right there.” She turns with the dish towel twisted between both hands. “Even if what you said is true, it makes no difference.” The cloth drags across her palms as she folds it sharply. “So we’re not doing this.”
“Evie—”
“I need to check on the guests.”
And then she’s gone. I’m left standing in the kitchen with a mouth full of things she won’t let me say.
Words aren’t going to reach her. Not while she can end every conversation before I’ve managed to get past the first sentence. I won’t leave with this silence lodged between us and spend eternity wondering whether one better idea might have changed our last days.
By the time the door settles shut, I’m done waiting for the right words. I’m going to find another way to get through to her.
***
The inn has a landline behind the front desk, a chunky beige relic with a coiled cord long enough to lasso a horse. I’ve been dying to use it since I arrived.
I dial the number on the leaflet and tuck the receiver against my shoulder. The cord snags beneath my elbow. I untangle myself and wait.
“Brindlewood Visitor Center, this is Daisy.”
“It’s Milo.”
“Milo?” A pause. “Oh my god, did you finally get a phone? It’s genuinely unhinged that you don’t have one, do you know that?
A grown man walking around in the twenty-first century with no cell.
I’ve been telling Evie for weeks it’s a red flag.
Not a real one, more of a fun little warning sign, but still.
And you never even explained why. Every time someone asks, you just do that little smile and change the subject.
Which, by the way, adorable, but also deeply suspicious. ”
“No. No phone.” I glance down the hall, where Evie is deep in conversation with a man from the Sunrise Room about the best trail through the forest. “I’m using the landline.”
“Disappointing, but okay.” Then her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Is this a distress call? Has Evie got you rearranging the linen closet by thread count again? Because I love my sister, but when she’s in one of her moods, I don’t get involved.
That’s a solo mission. Last time I attempted to encourage her to open up, she came over, reorganized my entire kitchen, and left a note about my expired spices instead of talking. ”
“Daisy.”
“I’m just saying, if this is you finally cracking, I support you, but I can’t personally intervene. It’s a boundary.”
“It’s not that.” Evie’s laugh carries along the corridor. She’s wrapping up, which means she’ll be at the front desk for a map any second. “This is serious. I need your help, and I’ve got a narrow window.”
“Okay, fine. I was bored anyway, and now you’ve made me emotionally invested in whatever disaster this is. Go on.”
“I want to do something for Evie tonight. Big enough to get her to talk to me.” I glance toward the hallway, and the cord winds around my forearm when I turn back. “What would make her happy that she’d never think to ask for?”
“Oh, we are doing a grand gesture.” A keyboard starts clacking somewhere on her end. “Okay. First thought. There’s a place two towns over that does hot-air balloon rides at sunset; I’m pulling up the site right now. Nothing says I’m serious like drifting into the clouds together.”
“She’d hate every second of it. You’d be putting the single most controlling person in Brindlewood into a wicker basket with no steering wheel or a way down.”
The clacking stops. “Fine. Scrap the balloon.” A mouse clicks twice.
“What about that axe-throwing place by the highway? Hear me out. Very cathartic. You put a photo of whatever’s stressing her out on the target and she just hurls a hatchet at it.
Bad review of the inn. The historical society.
You, for using the wrong spray on the good rug. ”
“I don’t think handing Evie a weapon while she’s upset with me is the romantic gesture you believe it is.”
“It’s very hot.”
“My actual concern is that she would throw it at me.”
“Okay, no projectiles. Noted.” Something crackles against the receiver, followed by a deliberate crunch. “Concert, then. There’s a band tonight at The Rusty Nail. Imagine it: a dark room, loud music, barely any space between the two of you. Add a little dancing, and—”
“She hates crowds. And noise.” I peer down the hall again. “Daisy, everything you’re describing is Evie’s personal idea of a nightmare.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to suggest.” She huffs. “You could always just do the basic thing. Chocolates. Flowers. A card that says something dumb. Sweet enough, but hardly the kind of gesture that makes someone believe in love again.”
“No. Sorry. I just . . . don’t want to give her something anyone could’ve chosen. It has to be special. Is there anything she used to love doing?”
The line goes quiet.
“When we were kids,” Daisy mumbles through a full mouth, and the crinkling of the bag stops.
“We used to turn the bathroom into a spa whenever Mom worked late. Evie would steal the cucumber ends from the salad drawer, and I’d mix yogurt with whatever looked expensive in the pantry.
Honey, cinnamon, once a truly catastrophic amount of lemon juice.
” A laugh slips through the receiver. “We made robes out of towels and painted each other’s nails on the closed toilet lid.
She always chose the same pale pink, then sat there while I read beauty tips from old magazines.
That was the only time I ever saw her forget she was supposed to be in charge. ”
“That’s it!”
“What, a questionable yogurt mask?”
“No. I don’t want to take her anywhere. I want to give her one night where she doesn’t have to make a single decision. She can sit still, and I’ll take care of everything.”
“Oh. That’s good, Milo. I’d help you shop, but a hiker who came through Birch Hollow contacted me. He won’t say what happened over the phone, so I’m meeting him. Apparently, whatever he saw rattled him.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“I’ll be fine. Maddie and Evie have my location.” A zipper rasps over the line, followed by the clatter of something hard being dropped into a bag. “Get a pen. I’ve got a list of what you need, and it’s not short.”
The top drawer sticks before giving way beneath a hard pull, revealing a graveyard of takeout menus and dead highlighters.
I’m halfway to crouching down to check the floor when Marmalade lands on the counter with a soft thud.
There’s a smear of dirt across one front paw, and he lifts it, tongue rasping over the fur.
Once, I would’ve dismissed his stare as ordinary feline contempt. I know better now. He speaks when he has a reason, interferes when it suits him, and leaves me to assemble the rest from whatever scraps he chooses to provide.
“I don’t trust you,” I tell him quietly, hand cupped over the mouthpiece.
He blinks, slow and insolent, and offers nothing back.
“Pen situation?” Daisy demands. “Milo, I only have a few minutes.”
“Ongoing.” I’m still refusing to blink first. Marmalade leans and swipes one paw sideways beneath the stack of guest registration cards near the computer. A ballpoint pen shoots out across the desk and rolls to a stop against my knuckles.
I stare at it.
He resumes cleaning his paw as though helping me find a pen has exhausted his interest in my problems.
“Thank you,” I mutter. Then I tell Daisy to go ahead with her list.
She launches into it, and I frantically scribble down a highly specific inventory of Evie’s comfort needs.
There are instructions for her favorite dinner, something called a sheet mask, and three separate things I apparently need to buy despite having no idea what any of them are.
She talks too fast for questions, so I write everything down and accept that some of it will require independent research.
“Milo. I need you to understand something.”
I cap the pen. “What’s that?”
“Nobody she’s ever dated has wanted to take care of her. Not like this, at least.” For once, she sounds completely serious. “You’re good for her. So whatever this is between you, I hope it lasts.”
Evie should have a life that doesn’t come with clauses, bargains, or the risk of Hell coming after the demon beside her.
Even if I found a way to stay, I’d still be a demon.
She deserves someone who can build a future beside her without wondering what it might cost. A man who can share decades with her, watch the seasons change, grow older at the same pace.
I want that life so badly I almost resent the guy who might someday have it. I’m falling for her, and I never thought I’d get to feel anything like this. Somehow, I found it with four days left.
I can’t give her the future Daisy is imagining for us. But I can give her tonight.
“I’ve got everything written down.” I swallow past the tightness in my throat.
“Perfect. Then I should probably—”
“Wait! How do I keep Evie busy today without ruining the surprise?”
“Oh, I’ll text Maddie. Between the two of us, we can manufacture a highly believable crisis. Don’t worry about it, we’re professionals.” A delighted cackle bursts through. “Good luck, Milo. Bye.”
The line clicks dead.
I set the receiver back on its cradle. Marmalade yawns, bored with my emotional crisis, and drops off the counter to go judge someone else.
Footsteps sound in the hallway. I shove the notepad into my back pocket as Evie walks in. She stops when she spots me behind the desk.
“What are you doing?”
Lying to her isn’t an option, but neither is telling her the truth.
“I need to borrow your car.”
“That’s not an answer.” Her jaw tightens. “Whatever. You know where the keys are.” She turns on her heel.
She’s gone again before I can say anything else.
I don’t know the first thing about spa nights, but I know how to learn. And when it comes to Evie, I intend to get every last detail right. I may not be the man who gets to keep her, but tonight, I’ll make damn sure she knows what it feels like to be cherished by me.