Page 29 of Criminally Yours

Strike’s souring stare cut Stal off. “She’s an old friend.” He glanced at Millie. “She was in your year at school, Millie. Casey Harrison.”

Her gasp sent her rearing back. “The person who bullied me relentlessly? I can’t believe you’ve slept with the woman who ostracised and humiliated me.”

Strike put his cutlery down slowly, giving himself time to respond. He hadn’t slept with anyone since Millie, but he wasn’t announcing that.

“Casey isn’t a bully now. She’s a friend. I met her again at the gym, and she’s nice. She’s also a detective. She might be able to help, and I trust her.”

He twisted the tool balanced on his lap as Millie stood, grabbing her plate and a couple of other bits. “Tell yourfriendshe owes me a couple of hundred quid for the therapy I needed because of her gang, and a sorry for the wristband she stole from me after you deserted me. Thank you for a lovely breakfast, Bear. I’ll wash up.”

Silence descended as she walked out of the conservatory.

Everyone stared at him as his head dropped.

This was never going to be okay.

CHAPTER 12

Millie

As she plunged her hands into the hot water to wash her breakfast items, she let out a puff of air.

She’d overreacted. Everyone must think she was a child. She didn’t know if it was learning everyone thought Strike had slept with her bully or the way he’d talked about her. He’d forgiven someone who’d tried to break her.

Because he didn’t know. He wasn’t there when she did it.

It was at its worst the year after he left, and he had no idea.

Millie’s shoulders lowered as the suds covered her arms up to her elbows, and she focused on being in the moment by returning to her senses, taking in the strawberry-scented washing-up liquid and the framed quote in front of her.

With you, I’m finally home.

It seemed such an out of place quote for Bear, the man who’d damaged more people with his fists than his heart as a teenager, but with Liss, he came alive, and she was a force that said and did anything when she was with him.

Millie didn’t have that, not with anyone. Growing up, she’d behaved to make her family happy, and from university onwards, she’d only shown her authentic self in bursts online. No one got to witness the real her.

Some days, she wasn’t sure who she really was.

And then there was the way Strike had behaved in the gym. She’d gone to check on him, the curse of being a counsellor and caring for people, but what she’d witnessed changed everything. She’d presumed Strike had found it easy to leave her because he hadn’t cared and she’d meant nothing to him, but watching him cause himself harm through exercise told her otherwise.

That and his need to use the fidget tool when she was around told her he was a lot more affected than he let on.

But he was keeping it all bottled up, and even though she’d regret it, she wanted to help him release all the things that were stopping him from expressing his emotions.

She wanted to be there for him.

Boots clicked behind her. The scent of men’s aftershave and lavender stilled her.

“Sorry about that,” Stal said. “I shouldn’t have stirred things. Can I help?”

She turned to find him shifting his feet. He gripped his plate so tightly, she was surprised it was still in one piece. “Sure. I can wash, if you’re happy to dry.”

“Yeah.”

She’d expected Strike, but he probably didn’t think he had a reason to speak to her.

She’d studied Stal over breakfast. When he wasn’t eating, he was chewing his lips. His dark-rimmed eyes suggested sleepless nights. He might always be like this, but the counsellor in her guessed something was wrong.

They worked in silence for a while. She got the impressionhe was the kind of guy who didn’t chat, and yet it was as if he’d sought her out.