Always You || Simon Minter (miniminter)

Chapter 26

His tone isn't harsh, but it isn't soft either. It sits somewhere in the middle — controlled, steady, like he's trying not to jump to conclusions. The heater hums quietly between us as London blurs past the windows, orange streetlights streaking across his face.

I tuck my hands under my thighs to stop them shaking. "Chris is my ex," I start quietly. "We broke up ages ago. It was... messy. He didn't take it well."

Simon's jaw tenses slightly, but he keeps his eyes forward. "Messy how?"

"He just..." I swallow. "He doesn't like to let go. He calls. He texts. Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it's angry. It depends on the day, I guess."

Simon exhales slowly through his nose. Not annoyed at me — I can tell — but annoyed at the situation. At Chris. "Has he ever shown up anywhere?"

"Once," I admit. "At my old flat. He wasn't aggressive, just... desperate. It freaked me out, though."

Simon's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "And he's still doing this? After all this time?"

I nod. "I thought he'd stop eventually. But today he must've seen your post."

That makes something shift in his expression — a flicker of guilt maybe, like he regrets posting it even though he shouldn't.

"I didn't mean to make it worse," he murmurs.

"You didn't," I reassure immediately. "None of this is your fault."

He finally looks at me — properly. Blue eyes soft but serious. "Millie... if he's bothering you this much, you need to tell someone. You shouldn't be dealing with that on your own."

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone," I admit, eyes on my lap. "Didn't want to seem dramatic. Or like... a burden."

His head snaps toward me again. "You're not a burden. Not to me."

The firmness in his voice knocks the breath out of me. Simon hardly ever speaks like that — sharp, decisive. It makes my chest ache in a different way.

"I just... didn't want you or the boys thinking I'm this walking, talking problem." My voice wobbles. "I already feel like the newbie tagging along half the time."

"You're not tagging along," he says instantly. "We — I — want you around."

The car goes quiet again, but it's calmer now. Warmer. I rest my forehead against the window, watching the condensation bloom under my breath.

"He's not dangerous," I add slowly. "He's just... clingy. Toxic clingy. But never violent."

"That doesn't make it okay," Simon mutters.

He takes a left turn toward home, and for a moment his hand leaves the wheel — reaching across the space between us. I hesitate only a second before sliding my hand into his. His thumb rubs slow circles against my skin.

"Next time he calls, you tell me," he says. "Or tell Jide. Or literally anyone in the house. You're not dealing with it alone anymore."

The finality in his voice makes my stomach flip. I don't argue this time.

"Okay," I whisper.

We pull up outside the house, the engine ticking as it cools. I expect him to let go, get out, move on like normal — but he doesn't. He just sits there, watching me with a look that's somewhere between worried and protective and something else I don't want to name yet.

"I'm really glad you came with me today," he says softly.

"I'm really glad you asked me."

We stay like that for another beat — quiet, close, comfortable — before we finally get out of the car and head inside.