Millie POV
I waited until her car was out of the driveway before I opened it. Meet me in the garage. Thirty minutes.
The garage smelled like cedar and gasoline and him. He didn't look at me when I walked in. He was leaning over the workbench, fingers curled around the edge, head bowed. He was wearing the flannel I'd taken off this morning. The one that smelled like laundry detergent and his skin. He had stolen it back. Of course he had. I closed the door behind me.
“You shouldn't have…”
He cuts in, not allowing me to finish speaking “I shouldn't have what?” He asked, his voice was firm.
I didn't have a word for it. He turned. His eyes were darker in this light. Darker than they had been on the trip. Darker than the lake. Darker than the tent.
“Thirty minutes is too long,” he said.
