POV: Millie
I sit with the quiet he leaves behind and decide he's right. I didn't need him to tell me that, but he's right all the same, and there's something comforting about hearing it confirmed by someone who isn't me.
The light outside has shifted while we talked. Coyote and I must have gone on for hours, because the blue sky has faded to soft purple at the edges, the kind of color that means the day is ending whether I'm ready or not. Han hasn't come back upstairs since this morning, and I don't know what to make of that. Part of me wonders if he's giving me space on purpose, the way you'd back away from something wounded and unpredictable. I can hear him below me in the kitchen, the low sounds of something cooking in a pan, the metallic clink of a lid lifted and set down. Whatever'
