Chapter 8

EIGHT

I've spent the past two days completely remodeling my bedroom. After Micah told me about the spiders in the basement, I didn't bother wasting my time on the sheets. The bare mattress didn't have any stains, so I resorted to laying out a few of my T-shirts and sleeping in my sweater.

The next day, with Archer not answering his phone, and Ember in New York City for work, I was forced to call for rideshares and spent several hours going to different stores, stocking up on the necessities. I grabbed an entirely new sheet set and a new rug for the bedroom, along with shampoo, body wash, and a can of bug spray for the house. I refused to use Micah's credit card, not giving him the satisfaction.

But with the way he dropped the bomb on me the other night about the spiders, I was tempted to buy out the entire hardware store's stock of spider killer and charge it to his card.

With my arms loaded with clothes, I slowly walk down the stairs to the basement. The musty, acrid air hits my nostrils the same way it has all week. I drop the clothes onto the top of the washer before moving the curtains I tossed in earlier to the dryer. After loading my clothes in and starting the machine, I grab the can of spider killer and spray another nest I spot in the corner.

If I didn't need to live here, and if Micah didn't own this place, I probably would have burned this house to the ground by now. I've never been a fan of bugs, and I loathe spiders entirely. I wonder if Micah assumed I'd hate them or if he somehow remembers me hating them from when I was younger.

"Adeline!" Ember's voice calls from outside.

The washer door snaps shut, and I look up. A small, narrow window sits between the joists above the brick wall surrounding the basement.

"Ember?" I yell back.

The house is large, but the window near the washer sits at the front of it. Shadowed by grass, there's no way Ember can see me, but I know she hears me call out her name. The sound of shuffling feet on grass grows closer.

"Adeline? Where are you?"

"I'm down here." I stand on my toes, as if it will help her hear me better.

She moves closer again, but I still don't see her. "I knocked on the door, but you didn't answer."

"Sorry, I didn't hear it. I'm down in the basement."

"With all the spiders?" she asks, and I imagine her nose scrunched in disgust.

"I've been killing them as I see them." I laugh. "I'll be right up." I leave the laundry room and dash up the stairs.

When I reach the entryway, I unlock the front door and swing it open. Ember is standing on the front porch, a large pile of clothing bags draped over her arm. Her strawberry blonde hair shimmers in the sun, and her green eyes glint like two stones of emerald.

"It's been too long." She beams, opening her arms to wrap them around me.

It has been too long. The last time I saw Ember was a year ago, when she flew out to Los Angeles for a cosmetic event for a company sponsoring her.

"I'm so sorry I didn't answer when you called," she tells me.

"It's okay," I mutter over her shoulder.

"It's not. But I'm here now." She squeezes me tightly, and I squeeze her right back. She's always been a bright light in my life, especially in a place like this. Being back home.

Loosening my arms around her, I grab a few of the bags from her arms and help her carry them inside.

"We can take these to the living room," I tell her over my shoulder.

She closes the door behind me, I drape the bags over the back of the sofa.

Ember is slowly walking through the entryway, examining the building the same way I did the first day I got here.

"This house is huge." Her jaw drops as she spins in a circle.

Thankfully, I've cleaned most of the dust and cobwebs from the corners of the ceilings and walls. I spent all day yesterday wiping down every piece of furniture and sweeping the floors. When I take the time to look closely at the front room, it almost looks like a completely different room.

Ember joins me in the living room. She stands on the opposite side of the sofa and points to the bags. "I brought over every outfit I thought would fit you as well as your style."

My shoulders deflate and I eye them. "Thank you." My bottom lip wobbles. Suddenly, emotion swells in my chest and my throat.

Ember knows the reason why I'm here. Every bit of what happened flowed out of me when she called me back the other day. How I dropped my entire life back in Los Angeles, leaving Maddox without warning. She knows the truth of my relationship with him and how close I came to living in the same world as I did back home. She also knows the truth of what my home life was truly like growing up. In some ways, she knows more than my own brother.

"I'm just glad you got out when you did." She sighs. "I can't believe that asshole took advantage of you and the love you have. If you hadn't convinced me not to, I'd have killed him."

"I know. It took quite a bit of convincing." I give her a small smile of appreciation.

When I spoke to Ember about everything, I'd barely finished my sentence telling her what Maddox had done to me when she began threatening to race to the airport and hop on the next flight to Los Angeles. But when I told her I was already in a safe place, back in Boston, she conceded.

She grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I swallow back the tears lining my eyes.

"I'm sure it's difficult being back home, but I think you made the right decision in getting as far away from him as possible."

"I hope so." I shrug. "I'm terrified of running into my mom or my dad."

"You haven't seen them yet?"

"No." I shake my head. "And I don't want to."

"Not even your mom?"

I briefly close my eyes and take a deep breath. I see my mother standing in front of me, her kind eyes looking into mine. It's a memory that hasn't faded with time, but as with everything, there's always darkness beside the light. My mother's weakness was always the love she had for my father.

I open my eyes to my best friend in front of me. "I can't look at her without thinking of all the times she never stood up for me."

I don't fault her for anything other than loving my father more than her resilience to stand up for me. Somehow, her love for me was never more than the love she had for him.

"I get it." Ember nods, biting her pink, glossy lip.

"Now, enough of that," I say, slapping my hands on my thighs. I look at the bags of clothes. "You didn't have to bring this many outfits over. I figured you were bringing a few shirts and pants, that's it. At least enough to hold me over until I can go shopping."

"How have you been getting around? I didn't see your car in the driveway. I'm assuming you don't have it since you flew here."

"Ruby has it." I swallow. "I'm not sure how I'll get it here, and I'm not sure I'll bother. So far, I've just ordered rideshares, but I can't keep that up for long."

I hide my true financial situation from her. Living as a freelance model in Los Angeles was already proving to be a challenge, but now that I've cut off all of my work, I'm living on the bits I have left saved from my last shoot.

"I'll do what I can to help," my best friend offers.

"Thank you." My chest warms as my eyes fall to the bags. "Now, about these clothes."

"These are only a few," she says, nonchalantly.

Ember is delusional when it comes to makeup and fashion, but I guess you could say I am, too. Though I like to believe I'm a bit more reasonable.

"Besides," Ember adds as she picks up the top bag and holds it up. Her mouth spreads into a wide grin. "This one is a little something special."

"What is it?"

"Now, I know you haven't been back long, and you're probably going to say no, but..." She lowers the zipper, revealing a small peek into the bag.

Silver sequins shine through the small opening.

I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head at my best friend. "Ember, no." I know where this leads.

"Come on." She pouts, her shoulders deflating. "With my birthday in a few weeks, and yours only a few weeks ago, I thought this would be the perfect outfit to celebrate. I wasn't there for yours, and you'll be here for mine. We can celebrate together."

"I don't think I feel much like going out."

"How do you know how you'll feel in a few weeks?" She rocks from side to side, waving the garment bag in my face. "You never know," she sings.

I nervously look around the room. "I have a ton of stuff to do around the house still."

"You have plenty of time to work on it." She waves me off. "Just look at this dress, and maybe that will convince you."

She begins to pull the dress from the bag, slipping the bottom out from the base of the bag, but she stops when both of us snap our heads in the direction of the front door.

Cool air breezes in behind Micah as he steps into the entryway, shutting the door behind him. I haven't seen him since the night we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the kitchen on plates as old as this house.

My lips part, and I breathe in a quick rush of air at the sight of him.

He stops in the entryway, in direct line of sight of Ember and me.

"Hi," I say, stunned to see him here.

"Hi," he says back.

I feel Ember's eyes on me, bouncing back and forth between the two of us. She slowly lowers the dress down onto the back of the sofa.

"I just got back in today and thought I would make a list of everything that needs work upstairs," Micah says.

"Oh." I give Ember a side glance. "I'm sorry. Was I supposed to do that for you? I've been trying to work on the small things before I tackled the bigger repairs."

"It's okay." He rakes his fingers through his hair, making the muscles in his arms flex and tense. Muscles usually hidden beneath the sleeves of a collared shirt and suit jacket. Corded muscle strains against the dark blue sleeves of his fitted T-shirt. "It needs to be done either way, so I figured I'd get started on it."

"Okay." I nod.

Micah's eyes move to Ember. "Hi, Ember."

She giggles, casting me a glance before turning back to Micah. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

"Oh, come on." He jerks back. "You and Addy were always tied at the hip."

My stomach flutters at his use of my childhood nickname. I told him to only call me Adeline, but I guess old habits are hard to break.

"We still are." She elbows me.

I cover my ribs where she jabbed me.

"What are you doing these days?" Micah asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm a professional makeup artist and beauty influencer."

"Why am I not surprised?" He smirks.

She shrugs and points to me. "Only a few lucky ones like Addy and myself have been able to become what we've wanted to be since we were little."

"True." His eyes dart to me. "Not all of us are as lucky."

The storm I've come to see the last few times I've been with Micah has returned. My heart twists and aches at the sight of it. The desire to know his secrets swells inside me, ballooning in my chest, but Micah quickly pops that balloon with just three words:

"I'll be upstairs."

He leaves Ember and me, bounding up the stairs, his boots landing heavy on every other step as we watch him disappear.

I hold my breath, feeling Ember's hardened stare on me like a spotlight. The light brightens and grows in strength, shining like a beacon.

I may have told Ember everything, but I might have left out this one minor detail.

"Oh. My. God," she quietly says, craning her neck as if her head is on a swivel.

I chew on the inside of my cheek.

"I can't believe you," she hisses.

"Stop," I whisper, looking up the stairs where Micah went. "I was going to tell you but…"

"But what?" Her eyes widen as her jaw drops. "You just forgot to tell me?"

I wince. "I'm sorry."

Leaning closer, she whisper-shouts, "Holy shit," in my face before she playfully taps me on my arm. "You didn't tell me you moved into Micah Harding's house." She quickly glances back in the direction he disappeared. "And you're living with him?"

I widen my eyes. "No, he isn't staying here." My throat is dry, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"So, this isn't his house?" Her eyebrows knit, and she blinks. "I'm confused."

I roll my eyes, my patience wearing thin. I probably should have mentioned me living at Micah's house to my best friend, but I didn't, and I don't know why.

"This is his house," I whisper back, my heart racing. I feel like I've been caught with my hand in the cookie jar so to speak. "But he doesn't live here. He's letting me stay here as long as I help fix it up."

"Um." She smacks her glossed lips, pointing to the stairs. "But he's here, fixing it up."

"I didn't know that until today." I cross my arms. "He hasn't been here the whole time."

"Are you comfortable staying here? I don't mean just because you haven't talked to him in ten years, but because of his history. Didn't he just get out of prison a couple years ago?"

"He did, but I'm not going to hold that against him, Ember. It wouldn't be fair. Archer trusts him, and he's been a friend of our families for a long time. Just because he made a few mistakes doesn't mean he's a bad person."

I think back to the other night when we shared dinner. Even through the shield he holds up, I saw vulnerability and softness that made me feel more comfortable and more at ease than I've felt in a long time.

"I've only been here a few days, but I'm happy here," I reassure her.

She nods slowly, letting my confession sink in.

"Hmm." Ember twists her mouth in thought then rushes out of the living room and stands at the bottom of the stairs. She cranes her neck as if it will help her get another look at Micah, even though he isn't anywhere in sight. I follow her, tugging on her hand and urging her to return to the living room.

She resists, tightening her grip onto the wooden railing. I pull on her wrist again, but she's stubbornly glued to the banister.

Teasing, she scrunches her nose and giggles. "Damn, Micah's changed, hasn't he? How is it possible he's gotten hotter in his old age?" She's whispering, but she may as well be yelling. My insistence in trying to get her to move only makes her laugh louder. It echoes and bounces off the walls of the open-vaulted ceiling.

"He isn't old, Ember," I hiss. "Now, would you shut up and stop staring up the stairs like a creep?"

She laughs again, finally giving in to my efforts. Light on her feet, she stumbles away from the bottom of the stairs and falls back onto the sofa. "How old is he now? Thirty?"

I sit beside her and place my hands in my lap. We both keep our eyes focused on the front bay window. "Thirty-three." I'm still whispering, my cheeks redder at the thought of him hearing Ember's teasing.

"Right. He's twelve years older. I don't think it matters as much now than when we were kids."

"Doesn't change the fact he's Archer's best friend." I relax against the back of the sofa.

Tucking one leg under the other, she twists to face me. "Him being Archer's best friend never mattered before."

"You're talking about this as if I still have the same feelings I did for him when I was a kid, Ember. I'm not eleven years old anymore. We're two completely different people, and I've grown up."

"Exactly." She nods. A slow smile creeps along her mouth as she leans forward. "You can't tell me you haven't imagined how it would feel like to have him call you ‘ good girl' with a voice like that."

"Oh, my God, Ember!" I squeal, shooting up to stand. With my heart pounding, I peek back up the stairs before my hardened stare slices back to Ember. "You are the worst."

"Why?" She stands, bringing her face close to mine. "Because I tell the truth and call it how I see it?"

"No, because you've never had any tact."

"You're right, but some situations call for honesty."

"Well, you may be honest, but your delivery is poor."

"I only tell you the truth because I love you." Her expression softens, and she reaches out, wrapping her hand around my arm. "You've been a sister to me, Adeline."

"And you've been mine."

Although my parents never had any other children after me, I often wished I had someone to grow up with. Hours were spent huddled in my room after my father laid into me for being a disappointment. Because there were twelve years between Archer and me, he felt like I was born solely to hold him back. With me, he had to start over. With me, I was another expense. With me, he couldn't focus all his attention on moving up in the ranks of government. He may have made it to district attorney of Massachusetts, but he was always hungry for more, and he spent every single day of my childhood reminding me why he hated me.

While I used to be holed up in my room, I dreamed of having a sister, a friend. Even though I had a sibling, I couldn't confide in Archer. Our father made sure to stay in his ear, convincing him my life at home was just as beautiful as the one he was raised in.

But Ember was there when I felt alone. She filled the hole I felt when I stepped out of that house. A confidante and a friend; she's been a sister to me.

"I'm glad you're happy here." Ember's smile falls. "But still, I want you to be careful. A Harding will always be a Harding, no matter how much time has passed."

"Okay," I scoff, pushing her away. "One second you're teasing me about him calling me a ‘ good girl', and now you're warning me not to get too close."

"I'm familiar with their kind, Adeline. Micah is and always will be a rich boy, no matter how old he is. He's a product of the life he grew up in."

I bite the tip of my tongue and stay silent. I can't help but wonder if she thinks the same about me. Does she think I'm a product of my upbringing?

Ember comes from a family like mine: privileged. The only difference is Ember's parents constantly showered her with love.

Is she the product of her upbringing?

I may have only spent a few short hours with Micah, but it's hard for me to see him in the same light as his upbringing. Then again, I've always believed Micah was different.

Micah's heavy footfalls land on the stairs. When he comes into view again, his white shirt is stained with streaks of black and brown, and dust coats the length of his arms down to his strong fingers. He jogs down the stairs and heads straight for the kitchen without looking up.

The sound of rushing water fills the quiet.

I watch him from where I'm standing. His T-shirt stretches across his toned, corded back. My mouth waters, and I swallow, his voice suddenly in my ear calling me a ‘ good girl'.

Damn Ember and her unfiltered mouth.

"I should go," Ember blurts out. She grabs her purse from the sofa and hooks it over her shoulder. "I have a client consultation booked for this evening, and another one next week. Would you want to come?"

"I don't know." My stomach twists as I shake my head. "I'm not sure I'm up for it."

"I'll text you the details and if you want to meet next week, I'd love to introduce you to my client," Ember adds. "She's a smaller influencer, but she's a model, too. Maybe she could connect you with photographers on the East Coast whenever you want to get back to work."

I twist my fingers. "Thinking about work right now is overwhelming. If I allow myself to think about it, my heart breaks."

We usually go out for drinks afterward. If you don't feel up for the makeup session, you can always join us after. There's this place not far down from the studio a few of us makeup artists like to go. Very lowkey and relaxed. It'll be fun."

There's a mirror located on the far wall of the living room. I've yet to bring myself to look at it or any other one in this house. I avoid them like the plague, afraid of what I'll discover in my reflection. Not in my appearance, but of the person I've become. Thrusting myself back into the modeling world this soon is the furthest thing from my mind and would only shine a light on my truth.

"I'll think about it." I give her a small smile, unsure if I should take her up on her offer. The thought of going out with my best friend is tempting. It feels like something I should do, but I'm afraid of being thrown back into the modeling world. Although Ember landed on the other side of it—the technical, cosmetic side—we exist in the same orbit.

Thankfully, it isn't for another week, buying me time to decide.

My best friend wraps her arms around me one more time. I rest my chin on her shoulder, looking behind her. My eyes catch the mirror for a moment before I quickly snap them shut. I still have a week to decide, but for now, I think I'll gladly stay wrapped in the bubble of Micah's old house.