POV: Millie
The boots scraping against the hardwood outside my door aren't Han's. Han moves like water, barely a sound, a presence you feel before you hear. These boots are loud and deliberate, like whoever's wearing them owns the floor.
The covers get yanked off me before I can grab them back.
"Well, well." Coyote looks down at me with that annoying smirk he always seems to have ready. "Look at you up here hiding from the truth."
He's the last person I want to see right now. One honest conversation today was already more than enough, and my chest still aches from it. I reach for the blankets. He pulls them off the bed completely and drops them on the floor, like he's daring me to complain.
"Get your s**t together, Millie."
He tosses a nutrition bar into my lap and drops onto the bed
