Page 36 of Fallen Empire
I stood too, meeting her head-on. “I’ve been here every damn night—”
“So have I!” she shouted, her voice cracking.
Ben looked up from across the room, eyes sharp, but I didn’t look away.
“You don’t get to make decisions for her, Jaxson. She’s not yours.”
My fists clenched. “She’s not yours either.”
That did it.
Her eyes flared, and she stepped in, fire in every word. “You think because she kissed you, or cried in your arms, that makes you her savior? That you’re entitled to her now?”
I didn’t flinch. “No. I think because she trusted me to protect her,thatmatters. I’m not here playing backup, Millie. I’m in this. Whether you like it or not.”
She let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Protect her? Like you did the night she disappeared? When the man who should’ve never found her walked in and took her—from a room you were standing just outside of? Both of you.”
“That’s not fair and you know it!” I snapped, louder than I intended.
The room fell silent. Even Ben didn’t move. Because we both knew the truth—he blamed himself just as much as I did. For Alex getting his hands on her. And for every damned thing that’s happened since.
Millie’s hands were shaking.
And I hated this. Hated the way she looked at me now—like I was part of the reason Savannah had to crawl her way back to life.
She took a shaky step back, her voice low but pointed. “You have no idea what it cost her to survive. What it took to crawl out of that hell. And if you think you get to swoop in now and play house, like you get tofixit all, you’re wrong.”
“I’m not trying to fix it,” I said, softer now. “I just want to be there.”
She turned, scoffing. “Yeah, well,wantingdoesn’t mean youdeserveit.”
She snatched a piece of bread off the tray table and walked towards the door, spine stiff, her silence louder than any words.
Just like that, we were done.
For now.
Chapter 9
Millie
Fucking hospital doors and their refusal to be slammed.
I didn’t need much in that moment. Just the satisfying crack of impact, the kind that saidI’m donewithout having to speak. But no. Soft-close, sterile, high-dollar bullshit designed to keep everything calm and quiet.
Well, I wasn’t calm. And I sure as hell wasn’t quiet.
I wasn’t a control freak, not really.
But after the last few weeks? After everything we’d been through?
I was tired. Tired of being told what I did and didn’t need. What I was or wasn’t going to do. I wasn’t a child. And Jaxson Westbrook wasn’t my father.
Fucking asshole.
Okay… that wasn’t fair.
I didn’t mean that. Not really.
