Page 70 of Chasing Stars
Danny sighs. “They probably do need to talk but—” he pauses, “Jenna, Miles really cares about you. I saw him married, and I see him now. He’s never been this happy before. You have to believe me on that.”
I shudder and nod, prepared to step away from Danny and go inside.
“Come on, give me a hug.” He pulls me into a big brother hug. “I know he’ll call you as soon as she leaves.”
“I hope so.” I pull back from the hug. “Thanks, Danny. I needed that.”
Miles doesn’t call me though. He doesn’t call me for my entire shift. There is a tiny part of me that expects him to walk through the door at any moment, but as the hours wear on, I lose hope.
Around one o’clock, I text him. It goes unanswered. I text him again at two-thirty, no reply. Panic begins to fill my chest.
“I hate to say it, Jenna,” Joy begins tentatively.
I hold up a hand. “Then don’t,” I snap. “I’m sorry, Joy. I just don’t want to hear about what a bad guy he is when less than twelve hours ago, he was telling me how much he loves me.” I let out an exhausted sigh.
Joy nods, chewing on her lip. “Okay. I’m sorry,” she says softer this time. “Listen, I’m good here for today, why don’t you scoot out early? Go see what he’s doing.”
“Are you sure?” I ask hopefully.
Joy gives me a grim smile. “Yes, of course. Call me if you need me.”
It’sthree o’clock by the time I get to my house. Danny’s truck is gone, and there are no lights on. I park in the driveway and check my phone. Still nothing from Miles. I can’t believe I haven’t heard from him. I cave and press the call button on his contact. It rings six times before going to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Miles Corbin of Cape Reality. I’m either on the phone or away from my desk. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.” It beeps.
I immediately hang up. It’s only a couple of hours until my dinner with Aunt Leona and Jake. I’ve got to get myself cleaned up. Maybe by the time I shower and fix myself up, Miles will have called. It’s been six hours now. Where is he?
I go inside, and even though the ceiling is patched and there’s a tarp on the roof, it’s still drafty downstairs. I can’t possibly sleep here. I go upstairs and strip my clothes off, stepping into a shower so hot it’ll leave my skin raw. I leave my phone on the vanity, and I can’t help myself, every few minutes I peek out of the shower to see if I have a missed call. Nothing.
Twenty minutes later, I’m out, dressed in jeans and a sweater, putting on makeup for tonight’s dinner. I blow dry my thick waves with a diffuser and for the first time in a long time, I like how I look.I wish Miles could see me.
My phone buzzes with a text but it’s not Miles; it’s Jake.
Jake:
Hey, Mom is wondering if you can bring some old photos over when you come tonight?
I haven’t even begunto root through them, but Miles mentioned seeing boxes labeled family photos in the attic during the inspection.How hard could it be?I clean up my makeup and toiletries, stuffing them back in my tote bag. I’m still hoping to go back to Miles’s condo tonight. Coincidentally, Aunt Leona lives on the other side of the same complex. If I haven’t heard from Miles by the time dinner is done, I’ll go over.
I mosey into the hall and grab the drop-down cord for the attic. I flick on the hallway light and give the cord a yank, revealing a wooden ladder folded up. I tug on the ladder andopen it. Once it’s sturdy, I climb up into the musty attic. Miles was right. There are boxes and boxes of photos and photo albums. I climb all the way into the attic. The ceilings are too low for me to stand up, but I can sit on the cold plywood floor. I scootch back and pick the first box in front of me.
Inside, there are a variety of photo frames in different sizes wrapped in newspapers. I unwrap the largest one. It’s an old collage frame filled with pictures of me as an infant. Some of them are just of me, some are of my parents holding me. I feel a pang deep in my chest and blink rapidly to fend off the tears stinging the back of my eyes. My parents were so in love. My eyes catch on a photo of them holding me in a christening gown. They’re gazing down at me as if I’m the most beautiful piece of art they have ever seen.
I sniffle and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Setting that photo aside, I keep rummaging. More frames fill the box, each wrapped in old, yellowed newspaper. I gingerly unwrap them and find a few photos of Jake and me at the beach, holding our boogie boards. Then one of us with my dad, we must have buried him. He’s covered in sand and grinning with a floppy sun hat on. I find one of my dad and Aunt Leona at what looks like my parents’ wedding. Near the bottom of the box is another large frame, also wrapped in newspaper, but before I can unwrap it, the headline on the paper catches my eye.
I freeze.
The words blur for a minute before snapping into focus, and when they do, my stomach drops. I unwrap the frame as carefully as possible, so I don’t rip the article. I don’t even bother to look at the photos.
I run to my phone.
There is still nothing from Miles.
“What the hell, did heknow?” I ask my empty house. “He must have,” I whisper. I grab the article, photos forgotten, and hop in my car.
36
MILES
