Into Your Arms

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “I don’t know. I know what I want, but I don’t know what you want and those two things might not line up.” I know what I want. Even though I’m still scared and mad, I want him. So much. It’s taking all my strength not to jump over and tackle him onto his treadmill. That’s probably not allowed.

  Fuck, I missed him. Not talking to him sucked so much this week. I kept seeing or experiencing things that I wanted to tell him about and then I realized that I wasn’t talking to him.

  I missed the sex too. I missed having him kiss my spine and look at me like I’m the most precious and beautiful creature on the planet.

  I miss . . . him. It’s just hitting me now how much. It’s like being punched repeatedly. Not that I’ve ever had that happen. But I imagine this is what it would feel like.

  “Luna?” he says and the nickname breaks me. I step off the treadmill and walk into him. It takes a second, but then his arms wind around me and I let myself melt into his chest. Shit. I missed the way he smells too.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” he says, tucking his head on top of mine. I love the way he surrounds me.

  “I know. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry about the whole thing.” Rhett pulls back just a little to look down at me.

  “I missed you, Luna. So much that I had chest pains all week.” Same.

  “I missed you too. The only thing worse than being with you is not being with you.” He smiles and I feel an answering smile break out on my own face. Maybe things are going to be okay? They might be for like these few minutes and then something might blow up in our faces, but for right this moment, things are good.

  “I seriously missed you,” he says, kissing my forehead, and I sigh.

  “I seriously missed you too.” He hugs me for a while, and I let the sounds of the gym fade around us.

  “You wanna go get some pancakes? Or maybe not.” Considering what happened last time we tried to do that, I’m inclined to say no.

  “How about I make you some?” I say. He kisses the top of my head.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  * * *

  So Rhett ends up making the pancakes. Mostly because I let him because I miss seeing how sexy he is in my kitchen. I just pull up a chair and put my chin in my hands and watch him. He whistles and it’s like nothing has happened. Sure, I know that we still have a lot to talk about, but I hope this is the start to fixing things. I hope.

  “Do you want to talk about it or not talk about it?” Rhett asks when we sit down on my couch with two plates of pancakes.

  “Well. I have questions.” He grins and slices his pancakes into perfect slices. I attack mine with a fork, not even minding the knife. Oops. But I know he doesn’t care about my table manners. It’s too late now.

  “I figured you did. And I think I might have some answers for you.” My hand starts shaking and I drop my fork. Suddenly I can’t eat, so I set my plate on the coffee table.

  “Did you talk to her?” I fold my hands in my lap and stare at them.

  “Just on Facebook. Just in a message.” I exhale a shaky breath. I want to know what her voice sounds like. I want to know if it sounds like mine.

  “So you haven’t seen her?” I lace and unlace my fingers and a hand reaches out and stops me.

  “No. I didn’t think I had the right. I also didn’t tell her your name. I just said that I knew you and we were friends and I thought she might want to know that her daughter was out there.” Oh. I didn’t even think of that. I probably should have? I was too busy thinking about her than thinking about her finding out about me.

  “Good plan,” I say as his fingers stroke mine.

  “I haven’t responded back to her. I can delete and block the messages. If you want. This is all up to you. It should have been from the beginning.” He twists his fingers with mine so we’re holding hands.

  “I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why. But you could.” I finally look up at him and I think I’m crying again because tears are dropping onto our joined hands.

  “I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t my right.” I nod.

  “Yeah, you shouldn’t have. But you did. And now the ball is rolling so . . . let’s let it roll.” His brows knit together in confusion.

  “What do you mean?”

  Rhett

  “I want to meet her,” she says, her fingers gripping mine so hard that the bones are in danger of cracking. Even her fingers are strong.

  “You do?” I ask. My mouth is dry. I’m still going on the assumption that all of this is too good to be true. That she’s going to decide that I’m truly a dick and she doesn’t want to deal with me anymore. Wouldn’t surprise me at all. That would make more sense.

  “Yeah,” she says. She’s shaking all over and I want to put my arms around her, but I also want her to get this out. I want her to take back control of this situation. I never should have taken it from her in the first place, but if there’s something good coming out of this, that would be ideal.

  “I think I needed a push. An external force. Because my own motivation clearly wasn’t working.” She laughs a little at herself. “Sad, isn’t it? I came all the way here and couldn’t do what I came here to do. Like a loser.” I grip her hands.

  “You’re not a loser, Freya. You are never that. You did a brave and courageous thing. I shouldn’t have interfered. But if you want to do this, I’ll be with you every step of the way. You’re not in this alone.” And then she smiles, and I feel like I’m being blessed by the sun.

  “Thanks. Maybe that’s what I needed. To know I wasn’t alone. I don’t feel alone anymore.” She looks down at our hands again and then brings them to her lips and kisses the back of my knuckles. I’ve missed her touch so much. It is totally wrong of me remembering what else those hands and lips can do, but it’s crept into my mind.

  “Good. That’s all I want.” Well, I want a few other things, but this is all I need for now. This is more than I deserve.

  “I think you want a little more than that,” she says with a wink. “But not right now. I think we should . . . I think we should maybe take a break from everything. You know. Be friends?” She sounds as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince me.

  “Sure. I could be your friend.” She snorts.

  “You’re such a liar. But then, so am I.” Freya kisses my hand again. This time she licks my knuckles.

  “If you want to be my friend, you’re going to have to stop doing that.” I’m rewarded with a sexy laugh.

  “Maybe . . . Maybe I want to be more than your friend.” Her face suddenly goes serious. My heart starts beating erratically.

  “What do you mean?” She rests her face against my fingers.

  “I don’t want to just be your friend. But I don’t know how to do that. And I’m still upset about everything. I can’t jump into something serious. But . . . I guess what I mean is that I might want to try? I think?” Her smile is tremulous.

  “Are you fucking serious?” I ask, clutching her hands.

  “Um, yeah?”

  It takes everything in me not to tackle her into the couch and claim her mouth.

  “You want to be with me?” She bites her bottom lip and nods.

  “Yeah. I think I do.”

  “You want me to be your boyfriend.” I have to get clarity here. No gray area. All or nothing.

  “I do,” she says, nodding once. “Unless you don’t want to be?” I look at her like she’s said the most ridiculous thing in the history of the world, which she has.

  “Freya, I have wanted to be your boyfriend ever since that first second I saw you at the bar. I’ve wanted that every single second since then. I want everything with you.” I can’t stop now. “But I can settle for being your boyfriend.” I expect her to be terrified by my declaration, but she smiles again.

  “I can settle for that too. And I think I might like being your girlfriend. Does it come with perks?” I laugh.

  “More than the perks you’ve already got? Sure.
I’ll do anything for you, Luna. Anything.” I take my hands from hers and reach for her face. She leans into me and our lips meet. Finally. Freya is like coming home. Only I’ve never really had one before. But this is what it must feel like.

  “Anything,” I say against her lips and she smiles.

  “I might take you up on that.”

  * * *

  Being Freya’s boyfriend is . . . well, it’s even better than being her “hang and bang” friend. I don’t know what it is about that definition, but I fucking love it. I use that word as much as I can. I take any opportunity I can to insert the phrase “my girlfriend” into conversation. I’m sure everyone (especially Jem) is annoyed as hell with me, but I’m literally not sorry. I’m happier than I’ve ever been and I will not apologize for it.

  We hold out on sex for like . . . a day after we make up. Freya comes back to cheer too, and Coach almost cries. I would have hated myself if she cut the thing she loved out of her life because of me.

  As far as Freya’s mother, a week after our makeup and change in relationship status, she asks me if I’ll send another message to Rebecca. I’ve tried to think of her by her name and not “Freya’s birth mother.”

  I get on my laptop and Freya hovers, instructing me to type every single word, which isn’t much. Rebecca messaged me a few times when I was silent, asking me what was going on.

  “Oh my God,” Freya whispers when I pull up the message. “I know it’s not her voice, but just seeing those words and knowing that she typed them.” Her hand clutches my shoulder, and I can see goose bumps popping up.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” That’s how I feel when I look at pictures of my parents.

  “Yeah,” she breathes. “Okay, write her back. Give her my email.” I turn my head so I can meet her eyes.

  “Are you sure?” She traps her bottom lip between her teeth and nods. “Yeah. That’s safer than giving her my phone number. Or meeting her in person, you know?” I agree. As exciting as this is, we still need to be careful. You never know about strangers.

  “I’m scared and excited at the same time. I don’t know how to feel,” she says in my ear. “It’s so much all at once.”

  I stroke her arm and type out the message, adding Freya’s email address.

  “Do you want me to tell her your name?”

  “Just my first name. That’s okay.” So I add that and sit back. I guess I expect an immediate response, but ten minutes pass and nothing.

  “The suspense is killing me,” Freya wails. She’s still clamped onto my arm. I’m losing circulation, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell her to let go. I’ll lose my fucking arm. I’m so honored that she’s sharing this with me, especially now.

  “Maybe we should step away?” I say. “A watched message doesn’t boil.” She narrows her eyes.

  “It’s a good thing you’re hot.” She kisses me and looks one more time at the screen.

  “Am I?” I ask and she grinds her nails into my arm, making me yelp.

  “Well, there’s only one thing that’s going to take my mind off this, temporarily.” I pretend to think about it really hard.

  “Is it something that involves both of us being naked and lots of tongue action? Because that’s what I’m picturing.” Her fingers dig in more, but for a different reason.

  “Maybe. Why don’t you show me what you mean? I don’t have a clear picture in my head.” I’m up from my chair in about three seconds, and she’s over my shoulder in another, squealing as I walk us to the bedroom.

  * * *

  “Go look,” she says a while later. “I’m scared to. I’m scared she’s going to change her mind. I’m scared she’s like, a murderer or something.” Her head is on my chest and my fingers are combing through her hair.

  “I’ll look, but if she responds, I think you’re going to want to respond back.” Her face tilts up at me.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?” she whispers.

  “I’m not worried,” I say, kissing her forehead.

  “No, but really. You’re partial. What if she meets me and then is like ‘oh, yeah, that’s why I gave her up.’?” I sigh.

  “I guess that’s just a risk you’re going to have to take. Is the potential for the opposite to be true worth it?” She thinks about that for a minute, her fingers walking their way up and down my chest.

  “I think so. I hope so. I feel like I’ve gone too far now to look back. And I want to thank you for being with me. And for helping me.” I kiss the top of her head.

  “I would do anything for you, Luna. Absolutely anything.” A grin breaks out on her face.

  “Call for a pizza?” I laugh.

  “You got it, baby.”

  * * *

  We’re in the middle of eating pizza when Freya’s phone gets a notification of an incoming email. She looks at me before reaching for it where it’s sitting on the coffee table.

  She takes a breath and reaches for my hand as she reads it. Tears start to fall from her eyes as I wait. I can tell she reads it more than once.

  “Well?” I finally ask.

  “She wants to meet me.”

  Her entire body shakes.

  “She said that she’s been thinking of me for my entire life and that she really wants to see me and explain everything. Fuck, Rhett.” She leans into me and I catch her in my arms.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She sniffs and I hold her. “I feel like I’ve cried more in the past few months than I ever have in my entire life. I don’t like it.” I pat her back as she lets it out.

  “Fuck,” she says again, sitting up and wiping her eyes. “Should I do it?”

  “That’s not something I can answer for you. This is totally and completely up to you. But if you want to, I’ll go with you, just to make sure you’re safe.” She kisses my shoulder.

  “That would be good. I’d never go alone. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Tobi and everyone.” I wrap some of her hair around my fingers.

  “You don’t have to tell anyone anything. You’re not obligated.” She nods.

  “I know. I guess I want to share everything with her? But I should probably tell Mia and her family first. Seeing as how they’re the ones I’ve been lying to the longest.”

  “You’re not lying. You were protecting yourself.”

  “I guess.” She gives me a tiny smile. “Still.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Including being my girlfriend.” Her smile grows.

  “But I like being your girlfriend. It’s pretty fucking awesome.” Those words make me feel like I could lift one car in each hand. It’s incredible how those simple words can make me feel.

  “Being your boyfriend is pretty fucking awesome.”

  “Good,” she says, wiping her eyes again. “Do you want to know something else?”

  “I want to know everything about you.” I tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

  “I think I love you.”

  My heart stops. “Isn’t that a song?” She smacks me in the chest.

  “I don’t know, but that’s not the reaction you’re supposed to have when your girlfriend tells you that she loves you for the first time, asshole.” I laugh.

  “You love me and you just called me asshole. Those are some mixed messages.” She groans.

  “Shut up and kiss me.” I put my hand on her face.

  “I have one thing to do first.”

  “What’s that?” Her smile is luminous.

  “I love you.”

  “Really?” Her voice squeaks.

  “Yeah.” I stroke her cheek and I’m pretty sure my heart is going to burst out of my fucking chest.

  “Good.” Our lips meet and I can’t believe that this is my life right now. I definitely don’t deserve her, but she’s here in my arms and I’m gonna hold onto her as long as I possibly can. Or at least as long as she’ll let me.

  Seeing as how I’m kind of an asshole.

  18

  Freya


  “I’m freaking the fuck out, Rhett,” I say. I’m holding his hand so hard that I’m pretty sure he’s got at least two broken fingers at this point.

  “I can tell,” he says, kissing the side of my head. We both decided that meeting in a public place was the best course of action, so we’re at the same diner where Rhett and I had pancakes the first time. Seemed as good a place as any. Plus, there are witnesses.

  Rhett and I are in a booth with full view of the door. Every time in the past ten minutes that it’s opened, I’ve nearly strangled him. But she’s not here yet.

  “What time is it?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the door. I know other people around us are probably staring and wondering what the hell is wrong with me, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m meeting her today.

  We exchanged a few emails and I’ve printed them out so I can physically have them always. I put them in the green folder with the rest of my documents. Rhett asked me if I’d like a fireproof safe for my next birthday. Most romantic present ever. I hope he also gets me some ice cream.

  “Five minutes,” he says and tries to touch my hair, but I flinch away.

  “Seriously, don’t touch me right now. I can’t handle it.” I know I’ve been kind of a bitch today, but he’s given me a pass.

  “It’s going to be okay. She’ll be here.” This is like waiting for a date to show up. Only ten thousand times worse.

  “What if she doesn’t come?” I ask just as the door opens again and a woman enters. A woman with hair the exact color of mine. The oxygen leaves my lungs and I’m frozen in my seat. Time stops.

  And then she turns and sees me. Our eyes lock and she smiles. It’s my smile. I don’t need to see a picture of my own face to know that.

  “Oh my God,” I say as she slowly walks over. Rhett helps me get to my feet. She’s taller than I am. Taller than I am and willowy. She’s easily one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen in my life. And I don’t think I’m being partial.

  “Freya?” she says. There are tears in her brown eyes. Different from mine, but so much about her face is so similar to the face I see in the mirror every day.