Maddox isn’t here.He wasn’t at the service either.
I school my expression, hoping my disappointment is hidden, before looking back at her.“You don’t need to spend the whole night shooting if we have a solid batch; we’re good.”
“What about interviews?Video clips?I’ve got everything ready.”She gestures toward her gear tucked near the building.“Just say the word.”
“That’ll come.Just not tonight.I’ll reach out soon with next steps.”
“Oh.Okay.”
“Thank you, Zoe.Have a good night.”
She nods and slips back into the crowdin the direction of Meri and Katie, who move through the gathering like beacons, stopping often, hands clasped, heads tipped close as stories are exchanged.
Ray’s name floats on the air, threaded through smiles and sighs, carried with affection rather than heaviness.Ten years have eased the sharpest edges, even if the loss itself remains.
I make my way toward Meri, catching her between conversations.She looks tired but steady, her smile genuine if a little worn.
“How are you doing?This is for you.”I hand her a steaming cup of tea.“To keep you warm.”
“Aw, thank you.”She wraps a gloved hand around the cup.“I’m fine, really, I am.”
I slide my hands into my jacket pockets.“Have you seen Maddox?”
She shakes her head.“No.I haven’t seen him all day.”
Something in her voice tells me she isn’t surprised.
“He was gone before I woke up this morning.I had a feeling he would be.This…” She gestures gently toward the square, the people, the easy togetherness.“He hasn’t been in a setting like this since the funeral.”
My chest tightens, though I keep my expression neutral.
“We might not see him tonight.”She sounds as though she’s speaking to herself, only just realizing this now.“He needs space.Always has.”Her hand comes to my arm and gives a gentle rub.“Thank you for being here, Grace.”
Before I can respond, someone approaches her, readying to talk, and Meri smiles and steps away.I stay where I am for a moment longer, still scanning the square.
Still no Maddox.
I dig my hands deep into my pockets, wondering where he is and whether giving him space is the same thing as leaving him alone.
Almost as if I can sense him, I glance toward the far end of the square.And there he is.
Half in shadow, he stands near the edge of the mass, head above most people, dark hair windswept.His jacket hangs open, shoulders tense beneath it, posture taut with something barely contained.For a heartbeat, I can only stare.
Relief hits first.Sharp and dizzying.
Then immediate longing, a pull so strong it almost hurts.I wonder where he’s been all day, what he’s done, whether he’s carried his grief alone the way Meri feared he would.Whether he’s hurting.Whether he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will.
His gaze lifts, and he finds mine.
Everything else falls away.
Maddox starts toward me without hesitation, cutting straight through the crowd.People call his name.Hands reach for him—gentle touches to his arm, pats to his back, murmured words meant to comfort—but he doesn’t slow.He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even seem to register them.
His eyes never leave mine.
My pulse stutters, and my breath locks.I barely have time to process the reality of him closing the distance before he’s there—solid, warm, real.
His hands come up, long fingers, large and sure, cupping my face as if this is the most natural thing in the world.As if the town square isn’t full of people who know him.Who know me.