In Between the Earth and Sky

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Remington sat back in his chair as he asked a question that he knew wasn’t relevant. “But she’s your secretary.”

  Merrick tilted his head in disappointment. “You know she’s not.” He sighed and laced his fingers together in his lap.

  “I will give you what I believe is pertinent information based on the matter at hand. This was always information you would have received depending on your continued investment.”

  Remington nodded tightly, indicating he understood.

  “I met Lydia while she was attending Stanford University. My attraction to her was both romantic and professional. She was brilliant and creative and she pushed me to new and exciting ideas. Our love affair ended tragically, which you already know, but the ideas. The plans we made, along with her friend Brenda—who is another talented mind I employ—became the Jones Botanical Research Institute.

  I had the money and the means to get the Botanical Research sector started. Lydia came on board nearly two years ago to help me smooth out the rough edges. We won’t succeed without her input.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. She’s so much younger than you.”

  “No, Rem. She’s twenty-eight. The way she dresses and behaves make her appear younger.” Merrick waved a hand. “I don’t mean those things as an insult to her, just a description.”

  Remington nodded because he knew. The youth she personified was contagious. He rolled his bottom lip in and bit down. “Why didn’t you just tell me all this from the beginning?”

  “Because she has no degree, no credentials. On paper, she hardly exists. Getting serious investors would have been nearly impossible if it were common knowledge that I let a veritable hippie be my most trusted advisor.”

  “So, what…” Remington tried to make sense of all he’d heard. “She’s some sort of genius?”

  Merrick chuckled, his face breaking into a relaxed smile. “Heavens no. She’s clever, yes. Not a genius. But you know this. You’ve spent time with her.”

  Remington’s eyes lost focus as they dropped away and to the floor. “Yeah.”

  “There’s something incredibly special about her creativity and the way she views problems.”

  Actually, those characteristics were exactly why Remington hadn’t felt able to speak to her for a while.

  She saw him. Saw the things he needed to hide.

  “Okay, so Lydia and I will go to Texas to evaluate everything.” Remington chewed on the inside of his cheek. “When the time comes.”

  Merrick clicked on something on his computer and hummed to himself. “Soon. A couple weeks at the most.”

  “I have a seminar in Miami coming up. We’ll go after that.”

  Merrick folded his hands on his lap and sat back. “I think it may be wise for this to come from you. You both have things you’ll need to discuss. Now that you know more.”

  Remington nodded. So, the next stage would be huge. And Lydia was part of it.

  He couldn’t decide if the feeling rolling through his stomach was excitement or dread.

  He’d have to figure out what was going on with himself first, then talk to Lydia about all he’d learned.

  His phone pinged and he winced reflexively. In a nanosecond, his mind shifted to a completely different subject. Like walking across the room barefoot and stubbing your toe.

  It was time to have that talk with Cherie. She was way more invested in their future than he was. It wasn’t fair to let her believe it was going where she wanted it to.

  Which sucked because Cherie was awesome. Fun to be with, sexy, smart, high class. Truly incredible. But she was looking for—and she deserved—someone who not only appreciated those qualities in her, but wanted the same type of future. Namely, a traditional one.

  “Can I say something?” Merrick asked, breaking through Remington’s sour thoughts.

  “If it’s about Cherie, I think I already know,” Remington replied in a grumble.

  Merrick hummed and shook his head. “Not exactly. Just some unsolicited advice.”

  “Go for it,” Remington acquiesced, throwing a hand out, palm up, as if to receive the advice.

  Merrick grew earnest, his expression darkened, his eyes sharp on Remington. “I don’t know where your connection to Lydia will lead, and I have no desire to guess. But don’t do what I did. No matter what happens. No matter what you hear or how counterintuitive it may seem, always…” He paused and swallowed, his voice rough. “Always trust her.”

  ***

  Remington hated the tears most of all.

  The tears were what made him not want to ever try again. Never form a connection, just bypass the people who stood out in a crowd with their brilliance.

  Because the tears were physical proof of his selfishness.

  They were proof he was right.

  It was like watching crystal rivers of perfection created by his own hand saying to him, “Told you so.”

  “I’m sorry.” He swallowed. The words trite and hollow. Words like that never made anyone feel better. He knew that. But he needed to say them.

  It was all he had. Small words with large intentions.

  If only words could heal.

  Or take back the last couple of weeks.

  Something.

  Cherie was good.

  Not in the detached way people described things as “good.” She often personified goodness. And beauty. Light, happiness, ambition, excitement.

  If pressed, Remington might be able to name a flaw or two. But it would just be for the sake of trying to balance the scales, not because she really had any.

  He rubbed the stretch of skin above his eyebrows with this thumb and forefinger.

  “I get it,” Cherie said softly, putting on what Remington knew was her attempt at a brave face.

  He wanted to argue with her. Tell her she didn’t get it, there was no way she could. He barely got it. How could she?

  Lydia’s face flashed into his mind and the words she’d said to him in the cave. She’d known back then this was the likely outcome. And still she’d encouraged him to give it a try.

  Helplessness and anger battled deep in Remington’s guts as he fought for emotional control of his features.

  Was there something fundamentally wrong with him that he couldn’t form the type of attachments that seemed to come so easily to others?

  He took a deep breath and another step to the door. “Cherie…” he started, then stopped. The small glimmer of hope in her eyes at his tone was like a knife to his lungs.

  He hated this. Hurting good people. If only he was able to explain to them it was better this way.

  “I would have never been good for you in the long run. I’m… not good…for you,” he said truthfully. Different, more eloquent words wouldn’t come to him. But the ones he’d used were still the most honest he had.

  She rolled her eyes and swiped at the tears that escaped with the motion. “Just go,” she whispered.

  Remington grasped the handle of the front door and paused. It was the worst déjà vu. A repeat of every time he’d had to go.

  Because it was time.

  It was always time to go.

  ***

  Lydia

  Lydia paused, her ear turning to the sound of footsteps in the stairwell.

  The following knock sent a ripple of excitement and dread through her chest. As if her heart were jumping for joy and then immediately chastising itself.

  She knew who it was before he opened the door. Which was something he used to do with frequency. He didn’t wait for her to invite him inside, recognizing they didn’t exist in the principled realm of adults and strangers.

  They never really had.

  It was one of those moments of clarity that Lydia reveled in. Such a beautiful, complicated feeling. Of completion and understanding. When her life reached a level of comfort that was new.

  And difficult to keep.

  Remington closed the door behind him and went to the kitchen. Lydia listened to him
pour himself a cup of coffee. He settled himself on the cement ledge beside her. The narrow space forcing his long, lean body to line up beside hers—calves, thighs, hips, shoulders.

  “No music tonight, I wasn’t sure you were awake.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  Lydia smiled faintly. “I had loud thoughts tonight.”

  She didn’t tell him it was because of his quiet dismissal of her at the office earlier that day. She’s spent the day overanalyzing the moment and wondering what she’d missed.

  He nodded and set his cup on his denim covered thigh. “Still loud?”

  She hummed a thoughtful response. “Not so much now.”

  Maybe it was too honest. But she’d never been good with being careful. Reckless was her nature. For herself.

  It was a contradiction she lived, following and studying things that required planning and hesitation and thought. While she treated her own soul to cavalier whims.

  But it was okay. She’d learned long ago she wasn’t as fragile as the world would like her to believe she was. Loneliness was a state of mind. Love was her default.

  “I ended things with Cherie,” he stated, telling her something she already knew.

  “Did she cry?” Lydia asked, her throat constricting.

  “Yeah.”

  Lydia let out a heavy, slow breath. “They always cry,” she said, her voice rougher than she would’ve liked.

  The silence that followed wrapped them in kindred mournfulness. Both lost to their thoughts and memories—separate, and yet far too similar.

  “You think we’ll ever get it right?” he asked.

  She smiled at the dark purple night stretching out above the city before them. It was a hopeful smile. The kind she could never force and would never be embarrassed about.

  “We have to.”

  Remington placed one hand, palm up, on his thigh, fingers outstretched.

  Lydia glanced down and then pressed her own palm to his. Their fingers laced together.

  It always hit her in strange places—the lower half of her heart, the backs of her arms, her earlobes—where she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  She tightened her fingers in Remington’s grip and he reciprocated.

  It didn’t matter that he’d been so inside his head earlier in the day he hadn’t acknowledged her.

  Because somewhere deep inside she knew.

  If the day ended right back here with the two of them as equals.

  They could get through anything.

  Chapter 12

  Space Flowers

  Remington

  Remington scrubbed one hand down his face and fought to breathe evenly. The sweat coating his face ran through his fingers and down his arms.

  The ache in his shoulder and knee let him know he’d given as good as he got. It was also a reminder that his body continued to age.

  Ollie patted his not sore shoulder, grinning.

  It had been a while since Remington had allowed himself the sweet release Jiu Jitsu provided. The inevitable facial bruises and swelling used to affect how often he could be hired when he was modeling. He didn’t have to worry about such things these days, but bruises on the keynote speaker at major corporate events also didn’t reflect well on the business image he tried to maintain.

  But he’d woken up that morning feeling drained.

  Worn-out from having his life dictated by something else. Especially how he looked. It drove him crazy.

  He got it. Truly. The modeling standards were what they were. It was a job and it was allowed whatever requirements it wanted.

  But Remington had grown more tired than tolerant of it.

  He disliked being measured by his appearance. Literally.

  He also wasn’t a fan of having to keep his thoughts to himself about it. For some reason people got incredibly sensitive when he complained even the slightest about the modeling.

  So, he avoided discussing if at all possible.

  It wasn’t like he hated it.

  The people were mostly cool. The photographers were often the nicest people he’d ever met.

  It was simply an unwanted connection to a past he wasn’t proud of.

  Taking a deep breath and shaking off thoughts of regret and things he couldn’t change, he picked up his nearby water bottle and took a long drink. His eyes drifted around the gym and the people there for their own purposes and reasons.

  Lydia had been right. It was better than the name brand gym he was used to going to. Smaller, grittier, more focused on boxing and martial arts. It was a gem in the seedy underbelly of the financial district.

  Plus, he wanted to give Cherie some space after the breakup. He figured the least he could do was not go to their mutual gym for a while. When he expressed his intentions of doing that, Lydia invited him to the one she’d been going to for her Krav Maga classes.

  His eyes settled on the sweaty and focused face of his friend. Her dark eyebrows pulled low in concentration, her jaw clenched, her hair black and slick with perspiration stuck to her bare shoulders and forehead. She ducked and swung, blocking the hit intended for her chest.

  In two more moves, she’d thrown the male instructor to his back, her hand at his throat.

  “Geezus,” Ollie chuffed, hands on his waist. Remington didn’t have to look at his friend to know he was watching Lydia too.

  It was hard not to.

  Frankly, he was always a little bit stunned when he saw her.

  The way she carried herself, the amount of attention she drew with just walking through a door, it was odd.

  Dancing through life like she was also on the front lines of a battle he couldn’t see.

  She was a mixed-up bag of mystery.

  All the fucking time.

  Sometimes it was frustrating for him. He could see her. Reach out and touch her. And yet, half the time, he felt like he was watching through a window. Some sort of invisible wall between them. Like a layer of atmosphere.

  He wanted to know more. He wanted it so much that at times he found himself verging on anger over the not knowing.

  Maybe the trusting part of the friendship was only on his end.

  No.

  That wasn’t fair.

  Just as swiftly as he thought it, guilt twisted through his gut.

  He was accustomed to women trusting him completely—within a matter of hours. They dumped all their charms on him in a day and left nothing to discover.

  Lydia held back. He couldn’t help but think it was because she knew if she unloaded all the magic that she was on him, he wouldn’t survive it.

  If he were being honest, really honest, they were both in the same place.

  There was trust. But it wasn’t without limit.

  Huh.

  Was this what it was like for normal people?

  The testing? The risk? The small reward?

  Lydia took her opponent down again, this time with a kick and twist. Her abs and obliques punctuating her skin the way a mark did at the end of an excited shout.

  He’d never seen so much of her skin before. He’d caught himself staring the moment she shed her shirt and baggy sweatpants to her black sports bra and compression shorts.

  For some reason, he’d begun to think she was a bit prudish. Based solely on his own shallow assumptions. He spent time with women who dressed in very little. Bikinis, crop tops, lingerie, etc. Not that he was complaining. He happened to surround himself with very body positive people.

  Lydia sort of stood out in his crowd. Without even trying.

  He smirked at the realization. Who’d have thought wearing more clothes would be the thing he noticed?

  “So that’s the girl you’ve been spending all your time with?” Ollie asked.

  Remington nodded, his gaze still trained on Lydia. She picked her clothes up and gave him a chin lift. Letting him know she was going to shower. When she’d turned the corner to the women’s restroom, Remington faced his friend.

  Ollie wiped
his face with a towel. “I can’t say I blame you. She’s pretty hot.”

  Remington chuckled. He wasn’t wrong.

  “Are you guys dating, or…?” Ollie trailed off with a shrug.

  See? This was another reason Remington liked Ollie. He wasn’t a total douchebag like a lot of the other guys their age. He didn’t get creepy with his question, he was just asking.

  And Remington couldn’t fault him for being curious. Anytime Remington met a new person, he brought them into his circle pretty quickly. Sometimes that worked out for the best, occasionally it backfired.

  Cherie was a backfire situation.

  She’d already cut off contact with the rest of the circle. Remington not wanting to see her anymore had ended all the relationships she’d built with his friends as well.

  He hated it when it got emotionally complicated.

  But again, he would have felt worse if he would have waited any longer before calling it quits. Hopefully someday she’d see it as the respect it was.

  It was all the respect he had.

  “Nah. We’re just friends,” he answered Ollie’s question.

  “That’s cool. Does she bike?”

  “I don’t know.” Remington repressed the grin that accompanied the memory of him running her down and into the dirt. He was a little afraid to ask her. In case it brought up unpleasant memories.

  “You should ask her. Bring her with tomorrow. Amber has an extra bike she can borrow.” Amber was Ollie’s longtime girlfriend. They’d been together for more years than Remington had known them.

  “I’ll do that,” he agreed.

  Ollie finished packing up his bag and they said their goodbyes at the door. Remington sat on a bench near the entrance to wait for Lydia. He took out his phone and checked his missed messages.

  So many messages.

  Most he could return later when he was home. But one was a reminder from Stacia that he had a photo shoot in an hour.

  “Ready?”

  He looked up to see his friend, freshly showered and in jeans and another band t-shirt. No makeup, wet hair.