Page 80 of Pretty Heartache

“How did you see my comp card?” My comp card contains all my info and the best images I’ve taken throughout my modeling career, along with my stats. The only ones who see them are me, my manager, and any modeling agency or firm when I send it to them in hopes of hiring me.

I never sent it to her.

When it finally clicks who, the blood drains from my head down to my feet.

“Maddox sent it to me months ago,” my mother finally explains, casually and nonchalant, without consequence.

“Maddox?”

“Of course.” Her dark brown hair shines in the light pouring through the front of Ember’s studio. Her sunglasses rest on top of her head, pulling back her long waves. “Ever since you and Maddox began dating, I’ve gotten to know him very well. He calls me several times a week. He told me what happened between you two.”

I want to vomit.

Bile fills my throat, and I bite my tongue, holding back my gag. I feel sick.

“What did he say happened?”

“That you had an argument over some little misunderstanding.” She flicks her hand. “He said he mistook your photographer for someone else, and when he confronted you, it sparked a little spat between you both.”

“That’s what he told you?”

“Yes. You really shouldn’t make such big fusses about these things. Maddox admitted it was all a misunderstanding and said you overreacted, and I agree.” She nods, pressing her mouth into a thin line. “Coming out here and everything. You can’t run from your problems, Adeline.”

Tears cloud my vision. “You have no clue what you’re talking about.” I inhale an unsteady breath, forcing myself to regain my bearings. “I’m not going back.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She pouts, frowning and looking at me with sympathy. “Your father told me you were staying with Micah Harding. Considering who he is, I’m guessing you’re well taken care of living with him. But this won’t be forever. I told Maddoxmaybe to give you some time, and that staying with Micah wouldn’t be permanent.”

A chill trickles down the length of my spine.

If Maddox knows I’m staying with Micah, he isn’t as dismissive about it as my mother is making him out to be.

I gasp for air, forcing the oxygen to fill my lungs as the room spins. “You told him I was staying with Micah?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I figured he already knew, since you told him you were getting away to visit family and take a few months off work to regroup. You’ve found a good one with Maddox. Don’t let him get away, sweetie.”

I curl my hands into fists and force the tears to stop. I close my eyes and inhale another deep breath, refusing to let my thoughts run away with me. I refuse to let my mother undo the past few months.

It’s as if her mere presence and the sound of her voice has pulled me back to three years ago. My parents let me go without resistance. They didn’t ask if I needed support or a hand. They simply let me go. My father held the door open, and my mother gave me a hollow hug disguised behind her soft, soothing words telling me how proud she was of the woman I had become.

I used to think my mother wanted me to follow in her footsteps, to take on the dream she lost when she brought me into this world. But when she loosened her arms around me, I saw the altered sense of reality she lived in. The one where she didn’t see me for who I was. She only saw herself.

I wipe the wet tears from my eyes and open them to see her still in front of me. Over her shoulder, I see Ray pull up along the curb.

“I love you, Mom,” I tell her, swallowing down all the words I wish I could say knowing she wouldn’t hear any of them. This is the way our relationship has to be. My heart breaks, wishing we could be different. I wish my mother was able to push herlove for my father aside to see the scars they’ve both left on my heart, but I know it won’t happen. Love can be unconditional, but sometimes love can also be foolish.

“I love you, too, Adeline.” She grins, the smile reaching her eyes briefly before disappearing.

“You deserve better,” I tell her, wrapping my hand around hers. “I hope you know that.” I look into her eyes, ones that look like mine, and I see her fractured, beautiful spirit, and find it easy to envision an alternate world where we can be each other’s best friend.

I give her hand a gentle squeeze, then I walk out the door without looking back.

TWENTY-ONE

It’s nearing the end of summer and I’m adamant about finishing the garden box. I don’t believe Micah ever envisioned what to do with it, but it seems to be a recurring theme around this house. He never had an intended purpose or plan in mind on the renovation, only deciding on its fate until someone confronted him with it, or surrendering when I barged in to tackle it.

I feel Micah’s eyes burning a hole at my back as I bend down into the box, digging my fingers into the soil. I’m covered in dirt up to my elbows, but I haven’t let it stop me. The cold soil is therapeutic in a way. My nails are lined with black dirt, and my hair is piled into a sweaty mess on the top of my head, but digging through the dirt touches a dormant piece of my soul. One that is a far cry from the life I’ve lived before coming here. Far from the limelight and glamorous lifestyle of the modeling world.

The day I had the run in with my mother at Ember’s studio, I spilled the entire story to Micah as if I were recounting a summary of a book I’d read. I felt disconnected from my mother, realizing I’d come to terms with the fact I will never meet her with mutual understanding. At least not for all the ways she’s defended my father, even at her children’s peril. Micah held mewhile I cried. He didn’t speak much, allowing me to spill my conflicted feelings about seeing her again. I was thankful he held me, not feeling the need to offer his thoughts, only allowing me to feel every emotion.

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