Into Your Arms

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  I reach out and take her hand because she’s crying a little again. She squeezes my fingers and gives me a watery smile.

  “All I could think about was her. My mother and her name and who she was and why she gave me up and what she looked like.” I nod because, fuck, I have been there. But I know my parents’ names. I have pictures of them. I know that I got my father’s hair and my mother’s chin. On nights that were bad, I would think about them. Even though they were gone, I had that comfort that at least I knew they existed and I had something left from them. Uncertainty is a horrible demon to have on your back.

  She bites her lip and doesn’t want to go on, so I tell her about my parents. Well, what I know of them. I go to the fireproof safe that that resides under my bed and pull out the few pictures of my parents that I have.

  “You look like them,” she says. “Especially your mom. You look so much like her.” I fight back my own tears, looking at my parents’ wedding pictures. I inherited a little money from them, but it’s long gone. Everything else I have from them is in this safe. Not much, but it’s something.

  “So you came here to find her,” I say as she flips through the pictures.

  “Yes,” she says. “But I just . . . I can’t do it. I can’t seem to handle it.” She bites her bottom lip.

  “Have you tried?” She keeps her lip trapped between her teeth.

  “Sort of. I did some looking online, but haven’t found anything, really. Not a picture or anything. But I’m not trying that hard, honestly. What if she doesn’t remember me?” Her voice is quiet.

  “I can guarantee you that she thinks about you every day,” I say. I don’t need to know anything about her birth mother to know that.

  “Do you think she regrets it?” She speaks so low I can barely hear her.

  “I don’t know. You could ask her.” Her eyes snap up and look at me.

  “I made all these plans before I came here. I had these dreams about seeing her and she’d have the same hair as me and I’d run to her and she’d hug me and tell me how much she loves me. But I’m not a fucking Disney princess.” She chuckles a little.

  “No, you’re not, but that could still happen. Right now you’re just sitting in limbo, not moving forward. And you can’t move forward until you tackle this.” Freya lets out a long breath.

  “I just don’t know, Rhett.” She leans toward me, and I put my arms around her again. So easily. She lets herself melt into me, and I wonder if tonight will change our relationship. We both opened our proverbial closets and showed the other what’s inside. Sure, I have other stories from how I grew up. Ugly stories. Terrible stories that ooze darkness. But for now, this is enough. She’s enough.

  I just hope I’m enough.

  Freya

  I can’t believe I told him. And honestly, it wasn’t that bad. I think I just built it up in my head after so many years. Then it finally happened, and it wasn’t terrible. It didn’t hurt that he knew what I was talking about. Even if he has pictures of his parents and knows their names, he understands what it’s like to long. To wonder. To have that uncertainty.

  Would I have told him if he hadn’t told me first? No idea. But I know that Rhett wouldn’t be the person he is if he hadn’t gone through what he went through. It’s shaped who he is, just as my experiences have shaped me. Sometimes I think about that. What kind of person I’d be if my mother kept me. Or if another couple had adopted me.

  Guess I’ll never really know.

  Rhett holds me for a while and then we put his family pictures away.

  “Do you want to go to bed?” I know what he’s thinking. Do I want to fuck? No. I don’t. Not right now. But I do want to be skin to skin with him, so I peel my clothes off and he does the same and we crawl into his bed together.

  I press myself to him, and he gathers me up in his arms. I realize that I breathe easier when he’s holding me. The world doesn’t seem so heavy with Rhett. I can smile easier. Cry easier too, apparently. Not sure if that’s a good thing.

  “Thank you. For everything,” I say, walking my fingers up and down his chest.

  “You’re welcome, Luna,” he says, his hand making circles on my back.

  “Why do you call me that?” I ask. Guess it’s a night for asking and answering questions.

  “Because to me, you’re the moon.” Well, shit. That’s fucking romantic. He’s much better at it than I am. He always says the right things, and I always seem to say the wrong ones. Guess that makes us a good pair?

  “Well, to me, you’re safety,” I say. That’s good, right? That’s a nice thing to say.

  He doesn’t say anything for a while so I look up to meet his eyes.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” I swear there are tears in his eyes. Or maybe it’s just the weird glow from his bedside clock.

  “Well, good,” I say, looking away. But his hand reaches under my chin and pulls my face up for a kiss.

  “Thank you for everything.”

  * * *

  “You look . . . rested?” Tobi says the next morning as we meet to run on the treadmills. Rhett says he has to skip again today, and I don’t ask questions. I’m raw this morning. Like I scraped myself clean last night and now I can’t handle too much. I’m actually thinking of skipping classes all together and going home to sleep the entire day. It’s almost the weekend, and I’m looking forward to just cheering and homework. Those things I can do.

  Rhett is something else. I don’t really know what to do about him. I also know that . . . I think . . .

  “Thanks?” I say. “That’s better than looking like shit, I guess.” She rolls her eyes as we grab two treadmills and put our shows on.

  “You know what I mean. You look like you had a week’s vacation or something. I don’t know. You look good, Freya. Take the damn compliment.” She starts her warm up, and I have to hurry to catch up.

  “No, really, thank you,” I say, touching her arm.

  “You’re welcome. I’m guessing it has nothing to do with a certain bearded guy that you’ve been spending ample amounts of time with?” I want to put my earbuds in and not talk about Rhett, but Tobi’s not going to let me off that easily.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” I say, starting my warm-up walk. She rolls her eyes.

  “Maybe yes and maybe yes,” she says. I stick my tongue out at her and she laughs.

  “I might consider a relationship if I could guarantee it would go exactly the way I wanted it to, which is completely impossible, so I guess I’ll just have to do without.” She sighs dramatically.

  “We’re not having a relationship,” I say. She gives me a look as if I’m lying.

  “What? We’re just . . . having sex and stuff.” And bearing our souls, as of last night. There was no going back now.

  “I don’t know about you, but that’s what most people call a relationship, babe.” I make a face. I don’t appreciate her calling it a relationship. I don’t like the fact that Rhett looks at me as if he’s in love with me. I don’t enjoy the feeling that I may have fallen for him.

  I nearly trip over my own feet and have to grab onto the treadmill to get myself steady again.

  “Whoa, there. Don’t break your face. Maybe I shouldn’t talk about him anymore. You get unsteady on your feet.” Haha, falling for Rhett. Literally. It’s early, and I need to get some more sleep. I need to stay away from Rhett if I can too. He fucks with my head. And my body. Oh, does he.

  I slam the Rhett Miller door of my brain shut and focus on just moving my legs and trying not to die. It’s fortunate that running takes most of my focus, but once I get into the swing of things, my mind drifts back to Rhett. How he smells. The way he blinks when he wakes up. The sounds he makes in his sleep.

  I really need to stop thinking about those things. Because they make my heart ache and a lot of other places ache.

  Somehow I get through the run and decide, yes, I am DEFINITELY taking the day off. Full stop. The end. I have some bath bomb
s and a new season of a trashy TV show calling my name. I feel a tiny bit guilty about it, but fuck it.

  “I’ll see you at practice,” I tell Tobi as I shove all my stuff in my bag and head out.

  “Okaaaay,” she says, giving me a wink. I resist the urge to give her the finger.

  * * *

  A few hours later I’m in my tub, my fingers are pruney, and I have soothing piano music playing in my bathroom. Ahhhh.

  And of course my brain is torturing me. I keep thinking about Rhett smiling and laughing and going down on me and cooking and breathing and he’s just . . .

  Somehow I can’t remember a time before him. BR. Before Rhett. Obviously I know that I lived for twenty years without him, but it all seems a little fuzzy. I’ve definitely laughed and cried more since I met him. Maybe that’s a good thing? I don’t know. I don’t know if this thing with Rhett is good or bad. I only know that it IS. It is and it’s . . . it’s everything.

  I groan and lay my head back on the rim of the tub, closing my eyes.

  Why? Why did he have to fall into my life now? I had my plan and my mission and I don’t need him. I don’t need this.

  Or maybe I did. Maybe the universe dropped what I need into my life. Or who I need, I should say.

  I definitely have some serious feelings about Rhett, and it’s idiotic to deny them now. But how strong are they? I mean, what do I really think is going to happen? That we’re going to date and get married and have babies and be an adorable little flannel-wearing family?

  No. That’s . . . no.

  But my brain grabs onto the idea of being with Rhett. Being with him for a long time. Seeing his hair slowly gray at the temples. Watching him get more and more attractive as the years go by. Being held by him not for hours, but years and decades. Being safe.

  With Rhett things are . . . both quiet and loud at the same time. He reaches parts of me that I don’t show to other people. He touches things inside me that no one has.

  “What the fuck,” I say to myself as my eyes pop open.

  I have some serious, serious feelings for Rhett and this might turn into a disaster.

  * * *

  Rhett is quiet at practice, and for one of the first times ever, he seems preoccupied.

  “What is up with you?” I say after he drops me for the second time doing an easy stunt.

  “Nothing,” he says, giving me a smile, but I know him too well to believe it. I still get weak in the knees, but something is up. I jab him in the ribs and he winces.

  “What is up with you, Rhett Miller? I’m not taking my clothes off for you until you tell me.” I say it low so no one else will hear, but of course Tobi does and winks at me. I wave at her to tell her to mind her own business. She huffs and turns around, pretending to give us privacy.

  “Will you go on a date with me this weekend? On Sunday? We could have brunch. Not in either of our houses.” We’ve talked about going out, but we usually want to have sex so much that it’s mostly impossible. I mean, I suppose we could always use one of our vehicles, but I’m not a big fan of backseat sex.

  “So you won’t be cooking?” I ask. He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”

  “I’ll pay.”

  I don’t hesitate.

  “Deal.”

  He gives me another odd smile and then adds a thumbs up.

  “Dork,” I say, reaching up to mess with his hair.

  “You like it.” I sigh.

  “I do,” I say before I can stop myself. Now I get a legit smile.

  “You definitely like it.”

  “Shut up.”

  * * *

  I feel super shitty at the game on Saturday. I almost fall out of my bow and arrow and end up having to do a single twist dismount a few counts early so I don’t come down altogether.

  “You okay?” Rhett asks before he sets me down.

  “Yeah,” I say breathlessly. I don’t know what’s up with me. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold. That’s probably it. I haven’t had a cold in a while so it seems like I’m due for it. I’ll have to dose myself up when I get home.

  “Sorry about that,” I say to Rhett as we’re walking to our vehicles. Tobi has already bolted since she’s got a huge exam next week and is running on pure Red Bull. I feel like I haven’t talked or hung out with her in ages, but we’ve both been . . . busy.

  “No worries,” he says. “Shit happens.”

  “Yes, it does,” I say with a sigh.

  “You still up for brunch tomorrow?” he asks. I nod.

  “Yup. As long as I don’t get sick. I kind of feel like I’m coming down with something.” I put my hand on my forehead dramatically, but he doesn’t laugh.

  “Let me see,” he says and I’m thinking see what? but then he puts his hand on my forehead.

  “You feel a little warm.” I squint up at him.

  “Yeah, I’ve been cheering for the past several hours. I’ve got sweat running down my ass crack.” His eyes narrow and he tries not to laugh.

  “Funny. But you’re deflecting. You should go home and get in bed and I’ll make you some soup.” Oh, please. As much as I like him taking care of me, Rhett taking care of me when I’m sick is something else. Way too intimate. Especially now . . .

  “No, I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I scurry to my car and head to my apartment, half expecting him to just show up at my door with a pot of soup and some cough drops or something.

  He doesn’t, but he texts me multiple times to make sure. He’s sweet, and his concern makes me flutter inside.

  “Stop that,” I tell my stomach, but that doesn’t help. I’ve got it and got it bad. Maybe Rhett made me sick. Not with germs but with his existence. Ugh. I’m screwed. He’s going to figure out how I feel about him and then it’s going to ruin everything. Everything we’ve had going for us. I don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose the casual nature of whatever it is we’re doing.

  Not that it’s ever really been casual. Even when we met. It felt like the ground under my feet moved and shifted into a new shape. I’ve been off balance ever since. Trying to adjust to a new environment. I just want things to feel solid again.

  Boring, but at least I knew what to expect.

  What am I going to do?

  16

  Rhett

  Yeah, I’ve probably fucked up in the worst way you can fuck up. But there’s no going back now. I made the call and now the wheels are in motion and I can’t NOT tell Freya.

  All I could think about was my parents and what I would say to them if I could. If I could have one last time with them. Even just a moment. I want to give that moment to Freya. I want to give her the moments that I can’t have.

  “Hey,” she says, hopping into my truck. She looks a little better than she did yesterday, but I’m probably going to change that in a little while. I don’t really know how she’s going to take this and I’m nervous. But I really think it will be good.

  “Hey,” I say, hoping my voice sounds normal. A few seconds later, her pale brows draw into a frown.

  “What’s up with you? You look freaked out.” Shit. I guess I’m not as good at hiding my terror as I thought. Great.

  “I’m fine,” I say, giving her a grin that I can feel is pretty fucking shaky. Her eyes go a little wide as I pull out of her complex and head toward the diner. I figure going to a familiar place is probably a good idea.

  “You’re not going to take me into the middle of the woods and chop me up with a chainsaw, are you? Because you’re kinda freaking me out right now, Rhett.” I should have known that she’d figure me out. I might as well get it over with now so if she tells me to drive off the road and die in a fiery explosion, I can take her home first.

  I pull over into a random person’s driveway. Hope they aren’t home.

  “Rhett?” she asks, wary. “What’s going on?” I take a breath. I’ve been preparing myself to say this for days, and the moment is here.

  “I found your mom.”


  Freya

  The bottom drops out of my stomach, and I have to look down to make sure I haven’t fallen through the floor of the truck and into some other dimension.

  “What?” I have to hear him say it again. Maybe he said . . . something else. I don’t know what. Something. Anything other than what he just said.

  “I found your mom,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he stares out the windshield.

  “Fucking look at me and say that,” I snap. He turns slowly.

  “I found your mom.” He’s eerily calm, and I don’t understand. How can he be calm? My entire world is crumbling around me, and he’s just sitting here. The whole truck is shaking. Oh. No. That’s just me.

  “Freya?” He reaches out for me, and I slam my back against the door of the truck.

  “Don’t you dare fucking touch me right now,” I say, putting both hands up to ward him off.

  “Freya,” he says, his voice cracking. I can’t even look at him right now.

  “Take me home. Now.” I cross my arms and turn away from him. I can’t believe this. I just . . . Part of me wants to jump out of the truck so I don’t have to spend another second with him. How could he do this?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he backs the truck out of whatever driveway he pulled into. I’m too angry to answer. Words boil inside my head and I swear there’s probably a tea-kettle sound coming from my head, or maybe that’s just my imagination. I can hear all kinds of sounds, but I’m pretty sure they’re all coming just from me.

  The ride back to my apartment takes forever and no time at all. I throw the door of the truck open and in my haste to get out, I fall to the pavement, tearing my knees and hands open. There is someone there to help me up, but I flinch away from his warm hands.

  “Go the fuck away, Rhett. Just go away.” I curl inwards onto myself. I’m not even sure what’s happening. All I know is that there is a storm in my body and it doesn’t have anywhere to go, so it’s just tearing me up inside. I try to fight as strong arms lift me up and carry me into my house. He doesn’t say anything as he sets me down on my couch and then goes to my bathroom and comes back with antiseptic, some tape, and some gauze.