Page 40 of Pretty Heartache

“I wanted to give you an update on what’s going on here.” She changes the subject, and my stomach sours. Ruby has just kicked open the door I’ve been holding shut on the past.

“Trending Runway reached out and wanted to see if you’d like to book a shoot this fall for their upcoming spring catalog. I told them I’d speak to you and get back to them with an answer. I didn’t know when you were planning on returning, so when would you like to schedule it?”

Sickness overtakes me again. I try to picture a life where I go back to Los Angeles, pretending as if the past several years haven’t happened. It’s been months since I left, and being here in Boston has made it easy to forget. My modeling career, my disastrous relationship with Maddox, and bursting out of the trailer that day all feels like a lifetime ago. A life I don’t recognize.

Trending Runway magazine would once have been a dream. Nearly thirty years ago, my mother had an entire spread in one of their summer issues. At one point, it was a dream of mine, but dreams constantly change.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back, Ruby.” My confession filters into the still air, and I try to picture her reaction. Her silence is enough of an answer to know I’ve taken her by surprise. She was expecting me to return.

“Oh,” she finally says quietly.

Tears well behind my eyes and line my lashes. I blink them back, but I’m unsuccessful. Slipping from the corner of my eye, one drips down my temple. I sniff and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, blowing out a breath as I turn my head on my pillow and face the long, body-length mirror propped up in the corner of my room. The sheet I tossed over it the first night I stayed here hides my reflection.

“I understand, Adeline,” she reassures, with an underlying tone of sadness. She wants to beg me to come home—Ruby has always been supportive in every job I’ve taken—but she’s also very opinionated. This is one opinion she knows she can’t have. This is something I must do on my own.

“There’s something else.”

“What?” I sit up and clutch the blanket to my chest.

“Maddox has disappeared.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after you left, he rarely showed up to the studio. After about a week of him not coming in, he finally showed up one morning completely drunk. He started throwing things around the studios: cameras, lights, props. You name it, he destroyed it.”

I cover my mouth, gasping. I was worried Maddox might take me leaving out on others.

“He didn’t hurt anyone, did he?”

“Thankfully, no.” She swallows. “But after that, the management company he worked for fired him. There have been rumors going around that he completely emptied out his apartment. No one knows where he went.”

“Oh, my God.” I don’t know where Maddox could have gone. From what I know, he doesn’t have any family around, and the few distant members he does have don’t speak to him.

“I wasn’t certain I should tell you, but I wanted you to know.”

“Thank you.” I inhale a shaky breath, wanting now more than ever to end our call. “I love you, Ruby. I’ll try and keep in touch more often.”

“Message me when you can. I’m still here for you. Always.”

“I know you are.” The tears dry, the sadness leaving me as quickly as it came. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Goodbye, Adeline,” Ruby breathes out before hanging up.

I drop my phone onto the bed and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes to gather myself. Ruby’s conversation leaves a weight on my chest. A weight I’ve been keeping just above the surface of my flesh and bone. Keeping the distance between my life in LA and the one I have here has been growing easier by the day. Every day, the abuse and trepidation of my relationship with Maddox has been fading in the rearview. Her telling me about his sudden disappearance concerns me only slightly. Ruby wouldn’t tell him where I am, and I doubt Maddox would take the time to figure it out.

Besides, I’ve never felt safer than I do here, living with Micah.

After I’ve taken a few minutes to gather myself, I wipe my conversation with Ruby from my mind and head downstairs to grab a bite to eat.

In my Nirvana T-shirt and shorts, I tiptoe down the stairs and grab a granola bar from the pantry. Reaching into the refrigerator, I swipe a can of soda and pop the top.

Micah saunters into the kitchen wearing a simple white T-shirt and faded, worn jeans—an outfit I’ve become accustomed to seeing him in.

It feels like it’s been years since the last time I saw him wear a suit.

“Morning, Addy,” he says before grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

---