And I know, with absolute certainty, that he means it.
The next day, I wake up to the smell of coffee and something sweet. For a moment, I’m disoriented—there’s warmth beside me that I’m not used to. Julian is sitting up against the headboard, fully clothed, reading something on his phone. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet.
Last night comes flooding back. After our conversation, we’d moved to the couch. I’d cried—really cried—for the first time since Miles left. Julian just held me, stroked my hair, and when I finally fell asleep against his shoulder, he must have carried me to bed.
“Hope you don’t mind. I made coffee. And found some cinnamon rolls in your freezer that I popped in the oven.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Wanted to.” He sets his phone down. “How are you feeling?”
It’s such a simple question, but no one’s asked me that in years and actually waited for a real answer. I take a moment to consider it. “Scared about talking to the police, but... lighter.”
Julian nods. “That’s good. Small steps.”
I sit up, pulling the blanket with me. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Some.” He gestures to the space beside me. “You talk in your sleep, you know that?”
My cheeks flush hot. “Oh god. What did I say?”
“Nothing embarrassing.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Just my name. A lot.”
Before I can die of mortification, there’s a sharp rap at the front door. Julian and I freeze, looking at each other.
“Are you expecting someone?”
I shake my head, a familiar dread pooling in my stomach. There’s only one person who knocks like that—like he’s still entitled to whatever’s on the other side.
Miles.
Julian must see the recognition in my face because he’s immediately on his feet. “Stay here,” he says, but I’m already scrambling out of bed.
“No, I should?—”
“We’ll go together,” he amends, holding out his hand. “But you don’t have to face him if you don’t want to.”
Another knock, harder this time. “Ellie, I know you’re in there! Your car’s outside!”
I take Julian’s hand, squeezing it maybe a little too tight. For the first time in twelve years, I’m not facing Miles alone. And that makes all the difference.
We make our way to the front door, Julian’s solid presence beside me like a shield. My heart hammers in my chest, but I’m not backing down. Not this time.
When I open the door, Miles is standing there with that familiar stance—shoulders back, chin jutting forward, as if he’s ready to charge into a situation he’s already decided the outcome of. His eyes dart between Julian and me, narrowing when he notices our clasped hands.
“What the hell is this?” he demands, completely ignoring any normal greeting. “You’re not answering my calls, and now I find you with... him?”
Julian says nothing, but his thumb strokes across my knuckles.
“Miles, you need to leave,” I say, surprising myself with how calm I sound. “I told you yesterday I don’t want to talk about anything involving us.”
“Yesterday?” His face contorts into an ugly smirk as he looks at Julian. “So that’s how it is?”
“Don’t,” I cut him off. “You don’t get to do that. Not after what you did.”
Miles takes a step forward, invading my space like he’s always done. “What I did? Ellie, come on. It was one mistake. We were together for twelve years. That has to count for something.”
Julian shifts, not aggressively, but making his presence known. Miles notices and scoffs.
