In Between the Earth and Sky

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Remington felt that settle in his gut.

  “I was always a little afraid, you know—with the way I ended things—I was afraid you’d think maybe I didn’t love you. Or maybe that I never had.”

  Cressida regarded him thoughtfully. After a minute, she sat down on the couch and patted the seat bedside her. He joined her.

  “I did think that. In the beginning.” She shrugged with a soft smile. “But we were both so…” She sighed. “Young.”

  “I feel like, without you, I wouldn’t know what this is.” He grabbed hold of his chest with one hand, clenching it into a fist. “But with you it was different.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Yeah. It was incomplete.”

  He nodded at her belly. The child of another man. One on his way home to his family. “You’re happy?” he asked.

  “More than I thought I could be,” she confirmed, both hands folding over her middle. “You were right back then. I don’t know how you knew, but you did. We were both so focused on saving each other. But we would’ve only pulled each other further down.”

  “You should be with someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

  “So should you,” she said with a sly smile.

  He sighed loudly, rubbing his chin to hide his smile. “I think you might be right.”

  ***

  Lydia

  The tape twisted and folded inconveniently on the edge as she attempted to tear through it with her teeth. “Crap,” she muttered. The too-long strip of packing tape caught in the slight breeze from her open window and blew across the side of her face and into her hair. “Oh, awesome,” she sighed.

  The landline beside her rang and she picked it up as she tried to peel the stickiness away from her mouth. “Hello?”

  “Lydia?”

  “Sam?”

  She figured it was going to be her mom. She still hadn’t spoken to her in… well, whenever the last time she spoke to her had been.

  “Uh… how are things?” Sam asked.

  “Fine.” She frowned, forgetting about the tape stuck to her for the time being. “What’s up?”

  “Have you spoken to your mom recently?”

  A weird, sick feeling crept into her belly. “Why?”

  “She’s—” Sam grunted and huffed as he switched ears. “She’s gone on vacation. My mom thought you might know something about it.”

  If Lydia’s mom was a worrier, Sam’s mom Wendy was a worry wizard. She had turned it into a sport someone could medal in. If anyone else was ever allowed to compete.

  Taking that into consideration, Lydia carefully worded her response.

  “She might have mentioned something. Did she say where she had decided to go?” she fished as casually as possible as he eyes darted to her apartment door.

  Vacation wasn’t something mom did. Show up announced? That was more likely.

  And if her mom showed up and found her packing, there would be a meltdown that Lydia just wasn’t emotionally prepared to deal with.

  “All I know is that she had a lunch date with that guy you were hanging out with. No one told me about any vacation. Now my mom is bugging me to get details from you. I guess I didn’t realize your friend was some famous guy…?”

  “What?”

  As if Sam hadn’t heard her, he continued, “Anyway, tell Brenda I said hi. And let me know where your mom is when you hear from her.”

  This family.

  What a bunch of paranoid busybodies.

  But that was the least of her worries.

  Lydia disconnected from the call and dropped the phone in her lap.

  As soon as it settled in the crook of her legs, she snatched it back up again and dialed her mom’s number.

  “Mom?” she asked in relief when the phone picked up.

  “Lydia,” came the measured response. It sounded like her mom…

  “Are—How is everything?” she asked.

  “Oh, fine. Fine. I’m just getting packed.”

  Lydia swallowed. “Packed?”

  Her mom sighed softly. “I’m taking some time for myself. I don’t want you to worry. I should be back in a few weeks.”

  “Weeks?”

  “Mm-hm. I haven’t been on vacation for almost twenty years. Did you know that? Anyway, I’m leaving tomorrow. But Merrick tells me you’ve been busy with work. How is that going?”

  It sounded like her mom. But it also sounded like an imposter. Maybe she’d finally cracked. Maybe Lydia shouldn’t have been so selfish for so long. She should have moved home and taken care of things like her mom had asked.

  “Work is fine. Where are you going mom?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about me. You’ve got things going on. And it’s time for me to live my own life.”

  What. Was. Happening?

  “Mom—”

  “No, Lydia,” Mom responded sharply. “That’s enough questions. I’ll call you soon. I love you. Be good.”

  The phone disconnected and Lydia stared at the box in front of her without seeing it.

  “Well, shit,” she said to the empty apartment.

  If she hadn’t already promised Jason she’d be there in two days, she’d be heading up to Portland right now.

  “I’ll just get my stuff moved and call mom again,” she spoke rationally, pulling fresh tape from the roll. “I’m sure it’s nothing crazy. Everything will be fine.”

  Still, she decided to pack her coffee maker last.

  That night, as she on the ledge outside her dark apartment, she let herself mourn.

  Brenda came over, bringing her own coffee and sitting with Lydia on her last night in the City of Angels.

  Lydia was grateful for the loved ones in her life, who saw her heart and loved her how she came.

  It wouldn’t be fair to stop loving Remington just because he did what she always knew he would do. From day one, falling in love with him was always going to end with her broken heart.

  But she’d foolishly held out hope that their friendship would endeavor.

  He didn’t have to love her. She would never have even asked for that. But his friendship was something he’d declared. She never anticipated he’d take it away.

  “You can’t claim a wild thing,” she said to Brenda. “The moment you do, a part of it dies. To keep it wild, to keep it alive, you must always keep it free. All you can do is claim yourself. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, the wild thing will invite you to stay.”

  Brenda slipped an arm around Lydia’s waist and rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. Lydia leaned against her in return.

  And then she sang Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ In the Wind.”

  And cried.

  ***

  Remington

  The elevator doors opened and Remington’s legs carried him as fast as they could without breaking into a run. The hallway to Merrick’s seemed so much longer than it ever had before.

  He rounded the corner and stopped in the doorway of the outer office.

  “Hello! Are you here to see Mister Jones?” the perky blonde behind the desk asked.

  “You’re…new,” he said slowly, eyeing the office as he took a step inside.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “I am.”

  “From the temp agency?” he asked.

  “No.” Her smile didn’t diminish. “I am Mister Jones’ new assistant. Would you like me to tell him you’re here?”

  Remington was almost to the next set of doors. “Yeah. Do that.”

  She picked up the phone as Remington opened the office door.

  Merrick stood with his back to the door, facing the ridge out the window.

  “You didn’t knock.”

  “Mister Jones,” came the bright voice over the phone’s intercom on the desk. “There’s a man in your office.”

  Remington’s eyebrows lifted as he joined his friend at the window. “I like her. She seems smart.”

  Merrick didn’t reply and that was when Remington noticed the tumbler of Scotch in
his hand.

  “It’s a little early for cocktails, isn’t it?”

  Merrick responded by taking a sip of the amber liquid.

  Remington shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I can come back if this is a bad time.”

  Merrick turned away from the window and returned to his desk. Het set the tumbler down and opened a file.

  “Yvette brought over the proposal for the extension of the Young Family Residential Trauma and Addiction Center. I looked it over and don’t see any issues.” Merrick flipped the folder closed again. “Why, though? Why do you suddenly have an interest in funding inpatient treatment? Is this a new fling of yours?”

  Remington didn’t respond right away. First, because Merrick’s tone was super bitchy. Second, it wasn’t sudden. But it was too hard to explain that to Merrick.

  “Where’s Lydia?” he asked instead.

  It wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that he realized that was the wrong question to ask.

  Merrick scowled at him and reached for the rest of his Scotch. “She’s gone,” he said. Then tossed back the rest of the glass.

  “Gone? What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Merrick said and sneered at nothing. “She’s gone. She no longer works here. Or in this state.” The last word ended in a sharp punctuated “t.”

  Remington slowly moved to the chair in front of Merrick’s desk. He sat down and watched his friend carefully.

  “When?”

  Merrick ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. “She left yesterday.”

  Remington eyed the empty tumbler.

  “Oh stop,” Merrick snapped. “I’m allowed to drink. I knew this day was coming eventually. She was always temporary.” He opened the desk drawer and set the bottle of Scotch on the desk. “I bought this for the occasion.” He held it up and examined the label. “I didn’t have anything the first time she broke my heart. When she signed on to the Institute, I went out and purchased this lovely bottle. I wanted to be prepared.”

  Remington leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What the hell happened?”

  Merrick’s lips twisted to one side. “You’re going to have to be more specific with your question.”

  Remington sighed. “She left. Where did she go?”

  Merrick stared at him. So long Remington started to wonder if the man was ever going to answer.

  “Austin.”

  Remington sat back in his chair, confusion flooding his senses. He gripped the back of his neck. “Austin? Like, for another appraisal or something?”

  “You honestly think I’d be day drinking if she was just gone for a few days,” Merrick responded flatly. “No, you idiot. She’s gone gone. Austin for now. But then who knows where.” He blinked slowly and his eyes unfocused. “She realized the cage was never locked.”

  Remington swallowed the tightness creeping up his throat as he tried to do mental math. It hadn’t been that long, had it? He’d only been busy for a few days. A week maybe. Or had it been two?

  “I don’t understand.” He started speaking before he really had a direction.

  “Which part?” Merrick asked. “The part where she left or the part where she didn’t tell you she was going?”

  Remington’s gaze that had drifted snapped back up. “Both.”

  Merrick nodded. “What did you really expect from a woman like her?”

  Remington stood up, needing to see if she was really as gone as Merrick said she was. “There are no women like her.”

  ***

  Lydia

  “I’m sorry it’s so small,” Jason apologized again, opening the blinds over the big window looking out over the neighborhood.

  “It’s really not. It’s perfect,” Lydia replied, meaning it.

  The garage apartment Jason had offered as her temporary home was the exact same square footage as the studio she’d just left. But it was cleaner, newer, and the bathroom floor wasn’t threatening to cave in at any second.

  “When will the moving truck be here?” he asked.

  “Uh,” she spun back to face him. “No truck. Everything fit in the car.”

  He frowned, probably picturing her Subaru parked in the street.

  “You travel light,” he stated, probably meaning it as a compliment.

  “Well, I make up for it with my exorbitant amounts of emotional baggage,” she responded flatly.

  Yes, ten days ago, she had taken Merrick’s offer to transfer her to Austen.

  In those ten days, she’d packed what she wanted to keep (mostly books and music), and sold or donated the rest. She’d also had a conversation with her mom that made absolutely no sense.

  But she hadn’t seen or spoken to Remington since the day they’d kissed goodbye.

  Nearly every night she’d woken up, thinking she’d felt someone holding her hand. Such was the imprint he’d left on her soul.

  But he was never there.

  It was an ache like she’d never experienced.

  A silent longing she had no hope to alleviate except with time.

  And life fulfilling work.

  Tomorrow would be day one in her new role as Jason’s assistant—liaison between L.A. and Austin.

  The next step in not only the Institute’s future, but her own.

  She held no apprehension for the next stage. Working with Jason would be easy. Probably easier than working with Merrick. He was intelligent, charming, and focused. She had liked him the first time they’d met, remembering that she’d been happy Remington had considered a man of this caliber to be his friend.

  “Do you need a bed or anything?” Jason asked carefully.

  Lydia shook off her melancholy thoughts and flashed him her best smile. “Not yet. I have a pretty comfy sleeping bag for now.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Can you help me with my things?”

  “Sure,” he agreed easily.

  They carried her paltry possessions up to her new apartment. It took them three trips.

  “This is a great album,” Jason said, holding up The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Are You Experienced?

  “Arguably the greatest rock album of all time,” she agreed.

  “I have a feeling you and I are going to get along really well,” Jason muttered, flipping through the rest of the albums in the old milk crate.

  She smiled to herself. Yeah, they probably would.

  ***

  Remington

  The door to the apartment wasn’t locked and he let himself in.

  Months ago, the first time he’d ever crossed the threshold to Lydia’s home, he’d thought it sparse and empty.

  But he’d been wrong.

  This was empty.

  The absence of her permeated every air molecule. Like a hollow fog. Her thoughts, ideas, warmth—all gone.

  One thing remained.

  In the center of the room stood the repaired telescope he’d given her.

  With a note taped to the side.

  Rem,

  I’m sorry. I wanted to stay. I suppose most of me will. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my own promises. I’m sorry the only thing I have to leave you is my heart. It must seem so quiet in your grip. It’s the only thing of value I’ve ever had on me anyway. Keep it, it’s always brought me a fair amount of luck.

  Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for letting me touch the stars, even if it was only for a moment. I will treasure the memory always.

  Love,

  Lydia

  Chapter 22

  Act of Faith

  Lydia

  She flinched away from the heat at her back and squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

  Sleeping in a new place wasn’t usually so difficult for her.

  But her rest had been significantly impacted since Remington had left her life.

  Even now, she thought she could feel his arm wrapped around her middle.

  Wait.

  Her eyes flew open.

  A heavy arm tightened around her and
pulled her back into the warmth she had assumed was a dream. Or a phantom memory.

  “This floor sucks. We should get you a mattress tomorrow.”

  A shiver raced down her spine and landed in her belly with all of the grace of a drunken sucker punch.

  “Remington?” she whispered, half expecting to wake up in a cold sweat.

  “Hm,” he grunted into her hair.

  Her heart hammered so hard in her chest, her entire body began to shake.

  Remington surrounded her with his warmth, tangling his long heavy legs with hers. “Just go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “When did you get here?” she asked, still whispering.

  “About an hour ago.” He moved her hair out of the way with his chin and pressed a kiss to the place where her neck met her shoulder. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Go back to sleep, babe.”

  “Okay,” she said, closing her eyes. His heat was as stifling as ever and she knew it wouldn’t take long for her to find sleep again. But before she did, a small tear escaped one eye and rolled down the side of her cheek to soak into her pillow.

  ***

  Remington

  The crinkle of candy wrappers were what woke him up. He smiled before he even opened his eyes. She’d found the breakfast he’d brought for her.

  Hazel eyes stared at him from a few feet away.

  Lydia sat with her back pressed against the wall, her legs crossed, mouth full of dark chocolate.

  She studied him in that apprehensive, analytical way of hers. Curious, calm, adorable as absolute fuck.

  As confident as he’d been when he left L.A. the day before and driven over a thousand miles, going way too fucking fast, he didn’t know how right he’d been until just then.

  Waking up. In more than ways than one.

  He sat up and ran a hand through his hair a few times. She didn’t say anything.

  But he felt the pulse of her anxiety ripple through the room.