Page 25 of Quiet Obsession
Millie’s eyes go wide, but she grabs a fork, digging in.
“Do you want a fresh cup of coffee? That one must’ve gone cold by now.”
She takes a sip, her throat working, and as much as I want to avert my gaze, I watch, waiting. She answers with a soft shake of her head, reaches for the milk carton, and pours just enough to turn the coffee a muddy color. Her fingers hesitate, hovering over a spoon as she scans the counter over my shoulder.
“Sugar?” I guess, already on my feet.
Her only reply is pinching those full, raspberry-pink lips together. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over their shape.
We eat in silence. I wish it was comfortable, but there’s no such thing for me. Not when I remember all the times my father didn’t speak to me for days, even when I begged him to.
Silence is fucking unbearable.
Snatching my phone, I pair it with the speaker on the windowsill and press play on my favorite playlist.
“Animal I Have Become” by Three Days Grace starts playing, instantly settling my nerves. Millie looks up, her hazel-blue eyes clashing with mine. I expect she’ll give upfirst, blush again, or frown, but she holds my gaze painfully long before lifting her cup back to her mouth.
She frowns a little.
Either because the coffee’s gone cold or—
She reaches for the sugar, and I realize I’m squeezing my fork so hard my fingers have gone stiff. Why isshe mute around me? Is it that she doesn’t trust me? Maybe she doesn’t like me?
No, that can’t be it. We only met last night... even if it feels like I’ve known her for years.
Annoyance flares behind my ribs.
It’s fucked up how her silence makes me crave her voice more than anything I’ve ever wanted. How my brain scrambles to decipher every scrunch of her nose and tic in her jaw. I’ve never paid so much attention to anyone’s face. Every twitch or frown has me guessing, trying to read her mind.
It’s so much easier to understand a person when they speak. You can judge their tone, their words,andtheir body language at the same time. You can tell if someone’s lying by how they act when they speak, but all I have is body language, and without words, I’m struggling to figure out a single thing.
She finishes her breakfast in time with me, and I clear the plates, listening for sounds from upstairs. I hope Hyde won’t wake up soon and join us.
I also hope he will.
My skin’s fucking crawling and the background music, helpful at first, doesn’t help in the least anymore. I couldflee. I could tell her I need a shower before the funeral. I could get up and leave without a word, but there’s this violent, nagging curiosity. I don’t know why I crave her voice, but I do.
So, instead of fleeing, I keep my ass firmly in the chair and force my body to relax. My shoulders slump, my fist uncurls under the table, fingers loosen around the mug.
Millie shrugs the sleeves of her cardigan lower, toying with a loose thread. She’s dressed all in black.
“You don’t have to come to the funeral,” I say.
She looks up, listening.
“Hyde didn’t want you alone at Gravemont, but you don’t need to be at the service. You can stay here if you’d rather not spend two hours in the blistering cold.”
For a second, I think she’ll say something, but she pushes away from the table and leaves. Instead of upstairs like I expect, she heads into the living room where Noah sleeps on the couch.
My pulse spikes, throbbing in my temples.
Will she wake him? Will she whisper in his ear that she’s uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be alone with me?
Will she crawl in beside him?
They do have an undeniable connection. I noticed her eyes snap to Noah a dozen times last night. She looks at him for comfort, reassurance, forwordsshe won’t speak. From what I gathered, she’s spent every evening in his room, playing chess and... fuck knows what else.
I don’t think he’d make a move on her. Hyde wouldkill him. Well, he’d askmeto kill him. But still, there’ssomethingbetween them. The way Noah watches Millie is a clear sign he’s intrigued.
