Chapter Twenty-Eight
Miles
I’m on set, but my mind isn’t really here.
The cameras, the lights, the chatter—all feel like background noise compared to what’s been eating at me these past few days.
It’s been a few days since Julian showed up at my place, the first time he willingly let me in like that.
And I can’t lie—I’m proud. Proud that I’m starting to see the real Julian, not the carefully guarded star the world knows.
He’s been smiling more lately, and yeah, I want to think it’s because of me. Because when he’s with me, even for a little while, maybe he forgets the weight he carries every other second.
But then reality slams back in. Victor. That toxic shadow lurking over Julian’s every step.
I know something’s still happening behind the scenes.
Something bad. And it pisses me off—no, it infuriates me—that there’s nothing I can do about it right now.
I’m just here, waiting, watching, trying to hold the space Julian needs.
I keep telling myself I’m doing what I can, but it never feels like enough. And today, it’s worse than usual. He hasn’t answered my texts in days, and the silence between us is louder than any scream.
I shove the script into my bag and glance toward the entrance, hoping to see him walk in—hoping to remind myself he’s okay, somehow.
We’re wrapping up for the day, the director calling “That’s a wrap!” echoes through the set. Everyone’s packing up, but I’m not in a hurry. My mind’s already halfway to Julian’s place.
He’s been distant lately—barely replying to my texts, avoiding calls. It’s not like him, and it’s driving me crazy. I hate that I can’t reach him, can’t pull him out of whatever’s weighing him down.
I remember the stubborn optimism that got me a key to his place. Yeah, Julian resisted at first. I think he thought I was being ridiculous, pushing too hard. But I couldn’t just wait around, hoping he’d come to me. So I kept at it—calling, messaging, promising I wasn’t going anywhere.
Finally, he relented, sliding me that key like a fragile peace offering. Now, I’m using it. Tonight, I’m surprising him.
I’m determined to remind him he’s not alone. That no matter what’s going on, I’m here—whether he’s ready to talk or not.
I slid into my car, tossing my bag in the passenger seat, a rare flicker of excitement buzzing in my chest. It felt good—this quiet little thrill at the thought of seeing him again.
God, who would’ve thought Julian Vale could make me feel like this?
Like I was heading toward something... important. Something real.
“All right, grumps,” I muttered with a soft grin, pulling out of the studio lot. “Let’s see if your favorite will get you to smile tonight.”
I swung by that little Thai place he secretly loved—the one he pretended he didn’t care for, but somehow knew the menu by heart. Pad Thai, extra peanuts, no bean sprouts. I grabbed it, along with a side of those ridiculous coconut pancakes he always “hated” but finished every time.
As I waited for the food, my mind drifted again.
Julian had been too quiet these last few days. His texts were short, dry. No teasing. No late night calls. I knew something was off.
And I hated this helpless feeling. Like I was waiting for a storm to break and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
But tonight... maybe I could make him laugh again. Make him forget. Even if just for a little while.
Food in hand, I pulled up to his place, parking on the street. My thumb ran over the key he’d finally let me have—a small victory, but a big deal in Julian Vale’s walled-up world.
I smiled faintly, stepping out of the car.
“Ready or not, sweetheart. I’m here.”
I made my way to the front door.
I stepped inside, the quiet hitting me first.
No music. No TV.
The place was too still.
“Julian?” I called softly, shutting the door behind me. My eyes scanned the living room. Empty. The kitchen, spotless and untouched—except for the tea mug I left the last time I was here, sitting in the sink.
I frowned. No answer.
He didn’t usually ignore me. Not like this.
“Jules?” I tried again, setting the bag of food on the counter and heading down the hall toward his bedroom. Maybe he was asleep. Or working. Maybe—
The door was open.
Empty bed.
The pit in my stomach tightened.
Then I heard it. A soft gagging sound.
I stilled.
Bathroom.
I took a slow step forward, the door halfway cracked, heart climbing fast into my throat. And when I gently pushed it open—
“Julian—”
He was on his knees, fingers in his mouth, bent over the toilet.
Purging.
I couldn’t move at first. Couldn’t breathe.
“Julian...” My voice cracked. “What are you doing?”
His head snapped up like he’d been burned. His wide, glassy eyes locked on mine—frozen in pure horror. Shame. Hurt. Like I’d ripped the last mask off his face and he couldn’t hide anymore.
“Miles...” he whispered, voice small and ruined. His hand slowly dropped from his mouth. “I—” but nothing else came.
His chest hitched, breath shuddering. And I watched the dam finally break.
Tears welled in his eyes—real ones. Not the ones he always swallowed down. Not the ones he pretended didn’t exist.
The sound that left him wrecked me.
A quiet, broken sob.
“Shit...” I muttered, cursing softly as I stepped fully inside, carefully setting the food down by the door like none of it mattered now.
I knelt beside him. He flinched—like he wasn’t sure if I’d be disgusted or angry or both.
But I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Hey...” I whispered, gently easing him closer. My arms slid around him, pulling him into my lap, cradling him like something fragile and breakable. He didn’t fight me. Didn’t shove me away like he usually would.
Instead, he broke.
Everything spilled out.
His shaking. His gasping, ugly sobs pressed into my chest, soaking my shirt.
“Sh... sweetheart... just let it out,” I murmured into his hair, my hand rubbing slow circles along his trembling back. “Let it out. I’ve got you. You’re okay... I’ve got you...”
I held him tighter, feeling every sharp, thin line of him, every tremor that wracked his body.
And God, it gutted me.
Because this wasn’t the Julian Vale the world knew. This wasn’t the untouchable model, the perfect face. This was him. The terrified, broken boy underneath all that shine and polish and fame.
I pressed my lips to his temple, closing my eyes, heart cracking wider. “I’m here, Julian... I swear I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you right now. Not while I’m here.”
His fingers curled desperately into my shirt. Like he believed me. Like he didn’t want to let go.
And neither did I.
Not ever.