Chapter 29

Millie

“Not anymore,” I say to Brock.

Tripp looks at me in disbelief. “Millie?” he questions, but I’m too sad to react.

Why is he so afraid of letting people know about us? It can’t be because of Brock, can it?

Brock doesn’t even appear too upset as he holds onto Willow’s hand.

“Just tell me one thing, Tripp. Why are you so afraid to tell your family about us?”

He glances at his mother, and then back at me. “It’s just a lot. You don’t have a family, so you wouldn’t understand.”

Ouch. That stings.

My eyes widen, tears spilling down my face. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” I spin on my heel, and beeline it out of the room. A few people call my name as I rush out of Atta Boy’s and cross the parking lot.

“Millie, wait,” Brock says, catching up to me with Willow in tow.

I cross my arms over my chest, swiping at a few tears. “What?” I ask him.

“I like the idea of you and Tripp. I can see it.” He nods, like his approval is what’s been holding Tripp and I up. And who knows, maybe it is.

One thing I don’t see out here on this sunny day in Magnolia Ridge, is Tripp. He didn’t chase out after me to declare his love.

Does he really even love me at all?

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not together.”

Willow smiles, her long, curly hair blowing in the wind. “The Atwood men are sometimes idiots, and do idiotic things. Give him time.”

Brock laughs at Willow’s words. “Not all of us are idiots, but Tripp sure is. He really wrote a book?” Brock raises a brow.

I nod. “Yeah. And it’s a good one.”

Willow does a low whistle as she smiles up at Brock. “She owns a bookshop, so she would know if it’s good or not.”

I laugh, despite my tears. “It’s really really good.”

Brock eyes me with concern in his features. “Give him some time, Millie.”

I shake my head. “He hurt me today. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him.”

Willow smiles at Brock, nodding her head back at the party. “Can you give us two a minute?”

Brock nods, giving me one last look. “See ya, Millie,” he says before walking away.

Tears sting at my eyes once more, and I raise my chin, trying to keep them from sliding down my cheeks. “I’m fine,” I tell Willow.

“I know we’ve never been that close, and I’m dating your ex, but I think we can become friends. I know what you and Brock had is nothing like what you and Tripp have.”

“Had,” I remind her.

She gives me a lopsided smile. “Tripp is the youngest of a long line of stubborn men. Men who are there for each other. Men who are so into each other’s lives they know everything about each other. Heck, sometimes I think the men know more about Brock than I do.”

I giggle slightly. “Probably.”

“Tripp was keeping something huge from his family, and he needs time to adjust.”

“He hurt me,” I say, the tears slowly falling now.

Willow steps closer. “I know, and he’s going to have to grovel hard for what he said to you, but he will grovel, Millie.”

“I don’t want him to grovel.” I picture Tripp on his knees right here in the parking lot, groveling, and what I would say to him if he did.

Willow smiles. “He needs to grovel for you, Millie. You’re worth it.” And then Willow does something unexpected, she hugs me. “You’re worth the fight, Millie.”

I appreciate her words. I really do, but I don’t think what Tripp and I have is fixable. Even with an obscene amount of groveling.

I told him about my family, and how sad I feel for not having a family of my own to turn too.

The tears fall harder and faster as I spot Tripp stepping out of Atta Boy’s, his familiar silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the bar’s neon sign. My heart clenches, a knot of emotions tightening in my chest. I break the hug I’ve been holding with Willow, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

“I’ve got to go,” I tell her, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to sound casual. Before Tripp can close the distance between us, I hop into my car, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the keys. My hands shake as I start the engine, pulling out of the parking lot so quickly that the tires kick up a small cloud of dust behind me. The Atwood’s, and everything else in Magnolia Ridge, disappear in my rearview mirror, but the weight in my chest refuses to lift.

I need time. Time to think. Time to process everything. The sting of Tripp’s presence, the unresolved feelings that swirl inside me like a storm. It’s too much, too fast.

My phone pings on the seat beside me, and I glance down. Of course it’s a text from Tripp. My stomach twists at the sight of his name on the screen. Without hesitation, I turn the phone off, unable to face whatever words he’s sent. I toss it onto the passenger seat and grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to steady my breathing as I drive out of Magnolia Ridge, the town fading into the distance behind me.

I don’t know where I’m headed, but I can’t stay here. Not with him. Not with everything so raw. I can’t face anyone right now.

The interstate stretches out before me, a lifeline pulling me away from the chaos inside my head. I take the exit toward Saint Pierce, the familiar road offering a strange kind of solace. The soft hum of the tires on the pavement is the only sound that breaks the heavy silence inside the car, but even that feels distant. All I know is that I need space.

"I miss you," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the cemetery. My eyes fix on the headstone, its inscription softened by years of weathering, though her name still stands out like a beacon in my heart. "I miss you so much."

The wind rustles through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the bittersweet memory of her favorite perfume. I sink to my knees, the damp earth beneath me a cold reminder of the finality of it all. My fingers trace the edges of her name carved into the stone, as if somehow touching it could bring her back to me, even for a moment.

The tears I thought I had cried out earlier come rushing back with a vengeance, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. I don’t fight them this time. They fall freely, hot and relentless, as though they have been waiting for this exact moment to break free. Each sob that escapes my lips feels like a piece of my heart shattering all over again, like the grief is fresh and raw, no matter how many years have passed.

The silence around me is heavy, broken only by my quiet weeping and the distant chirping of birds—life moving on, as it always does. But here, in this place, time feels frozen. It's just me, the cold stone, and the aching void that she left behind.

"I need you," I choke out, my voice cracking under the weight of the words. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

I don’t know how to do any of it. The confusion and doubt swirl in my mind like a storm I can’t escape. I thought Tripp and I were in a good place. We laughed, we dreamed, we made plans for a future that seemed so sure. We understood each other, or at least I thought we did. We were building something solid together, weren’t we? Now, sitting here at my mother’s grave, I’m not so sure of anything anymore.

Maybe Tripp never saw us the way I did. Maybe, to him, I was just a prize—a shiny, unattainable trophy he could win to boost his ego. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut as I sit, knees tucked to my chest, by my mother’s grave.

She would know what to say. She would know how to fix this. I glance up at the sky, the clouds thick and heavy, as though they’re holding all the answers I can’t reach.

“I thought with Tripp, I’d always have someone by my side. I thought I was safe with him,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the weight of my confession. "I was so stupid." The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they feel true. How could I have been so blind, so na?ve to believe in something that never really existed? I was an idiot. A complete idiot.

And there’s no one to blame but me.

“You’re not stupid,” a voice says from behind me, gentle but firm. A voice I’ve come to recognize all too well in the weeks we’ve spent together, through shared late-night conversations and stolen moments.

I freeze, my heart lurching in my chest as I turn to see Tripp standing there, his eyes dark and rimmed with a rawness I haven’t seen before. He looks like he’s been crying too. I quickly scramble to my feet, brushing the dirt and grass from my pants, trying to compose myself even though the hurt is still so fresh.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask, my voice barely steady. My pulse quickens, and I feel exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. His eyes lock with mine, searching for something, but I don’t know if I have any answers left to give.

“I followed you. Millie, when you ran out of Atta Boy I felt like my whole world crashed and burned. I didn’t know what to do so I froze.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh,” is all I can say.

He inches closer. “I saw Brock run after you, and next thing I knew my whole family was in my face. My mother was laying into me about what I said to you. Callum looked like he wanted to murder me, and Anya and Hartford were telling me to chase after you.”

“Oh.” It’s like my brain is broken and can’t come up with anything better to say to him. I want to scream at him. I want to tell him how badly he hurt me.

He inches a step closer, and I inch one step back. “Millie, I told everyone to shut up. I told them that I wrote a book, and I was going to publish it. I told them that I was in love with you.”

“Was?” I hear my faint voice say.

His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said. “Am,” he shouts out. “Am in love with you. Millie, I’m so fucking in love with you my chest hurts when you’re not close to me. I love you more than my next breath. Right now I feel like my heart could literally explode if you never look at me the way you did the other night when I told you I loved you.” One tear trails down his cheek. “And the night you told me you loved me, I’d never been happier. I’m so sorry for what I said,” he says, his voice nearly threadbare and quiet. “I never want to see that look of hurt in your eyes for the rest of my life.”

I raise my chin a bit, sniffling. “I was hurt, Tripp. You hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I thought we were building a future together, but I see that you value more what your family thinks than what I do. I don’t understand why you were afraid to tell them. Was it because of Brock?”

He rifles a hand through his dark hair. “At first, yes. I was afraid to tell anyone because I wasn’t sure what Brock would say, but then I didn’t care anymore because I knew I loved you. Love you. I am in love with you and I didn’t give a fuck what Brock thought about it, but there’s more.”

I inch closer. “What more?”

“It was Callum.”

“Did he say something bad about me?” I ask him, wondering what I could have possibly done to ever make Callum Atwood unhappy with me.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, reaching out to me to take my hand. “Nothing like that. Callum was pressuring me to take on more responsibilities at Atta Boy, and if I’m being honest, I don’t fucking want to.” He squeezes my hand. “I want to be a writer. I want to spend my days writing, working at the bookshop, and being with you. I have ideas on how to expand. We could sell Anya’s chocolates at your shop. We could have local author signings.”

My head swirls with possibilities. “Wait,” I stutter out. “Wait.”

He blinks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about any of this until I was driving here. Until you walked out of Atta Boy and I saw my whole future crumble. The future I want is with you, Millie. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’ve told everyone how much I love you. I told my brothers that my future is not the brewery. I love you, Millie.”

I cross my arms over my chest, not sure if I’m ready to forgive him just yet. “You think you can just snap your fingers, apologize, and everything will be okay?”

He shakes his head no, quickly. “I just…”

I cut him off, “Tripp, you hurt me. I’ve had to live without a family for a long time, and you can’t possibly understand what that’s like.”

He steps closer, grabbing my other hand. “You’re right. I don’t know what that’s like. And if you’ll have me, my family will become your new family, Millie. I want you to have a big family. I want to be the one to give that to you. I want to cherish you every single day for the rest of my life. I will never intentionally hurt you ever again.”

“But unintentionally you will?” I smirk.

He smiles, drawing me in closer as he wraps his arms around my waist. “I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you, Millie, but I can promise you that if I do, I’ll fight like hell to make it up to you. I promise I’ll always fight for you. I’ll always love you. So fucking much.” He leans in, but I pull back. “I want to fight with you, Millie. And then I want to have crazy make up sex with you. I want a real life with you. One where we don’t hide or pretend. I want the good, the bad, the messy. I want it all with you.”

A tear slides down my cheek and he swipes it away. “I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you more than you could ever possibly understand.” He leans in and captures my lips, kissing me, holding me, promising me a future I’ve always dreamed of. And when we break the kiss, he kneels down at my mother’s grave and speaks to her headstone, “I love your daughter, and I’m going to take care of her for the rest of my life. I promise you wherever you are, you don’t ever have to worry about her.”

A soft and gentle breeze brushes past us, and I lose it. Tears flood my eyes as I stare at the man who is my future.

Tripp Atwood is everything I have ever wanted, and I’m glad I wished upon a star that night, because it led me to him.

To my ex-boyfriend’s brother.