Into Your Arms (Squad Stories #1)(13)

       
         
       
        

"It was just something I had to do," I say, and my heart cracks a little more that I can't tell her the real reason. I've tried, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know you can always come home. You're not a failure, no matter what. And we love you. No matter what." Hit me right in the feels, Melissa. Jesus. I take a few breaths and force myself not to break down crying and tell her that I'm renting a U-Haul and heading back to Texas.

Then I remember why I came here and the questions I need answers for. If I go back, I'll never know. I'll never know where I really came from.

So I chat with Melissa about my classes and cheer and of course the conversation rolls around to Rhett. Somehow. He always seems to pop up.

"Give me details. I want to know everything," Melissa says and I can't help but laugh. A lot of the time she's like a teenager herself, and her enthusiasm is contagious.

"It's not like that, I promise. He's just tall and annoying. That's it." She makes a sound of disbelief.

"Tall and handsome, I'm guessing? And annoying because you like him?"

"No," I say, but I'm not convincing anyone. She laughs.

"Oh, sweetheart, just be careful. But not so careful that you're scared to let someone else in. You've had a rough time of it, and I just don't want you to cut yourself off from something that could be great. Be it this guy, or someone else." As always, sage advice that I should definitely take, but will probably just tell myself I'm going to take and then do the opposite. I'm a rebel like that.

Sensing I need a topic change, she mentions some silly local gossip, and we talk until my ice-cream container's empty and I am regretting all of my life decisions up until this point.

"Listen, you call me more often, okay? Anytime you want or need." I tell her I will, and she says that she'll have another letter in the mail for me tomorrow. We exchange "I love you's" and hang up. I roll off the couch and throw away the empty ice-cream container and put the spoon in the dishwasher.

I haven't talked to my own parents for a while. There's no need. We don't have anything to talk about. We never have.

Sighing, I shuffle my way back to the couch and lie down, pulling a blanket over me from the back of the couch. Might as well sleep out here.

I miss my Mia. I miss Melissa and Neil. I miss my old apartment and my old squad and my old everything.

But what's done is done and I'm here. And I'm staying. At least until I get what I need.

* * *

The next morning at conditioning, instead of running with the head of the pack like he always does, Rhett hangs back and falls in next to me. 

For someone who just woke up, he's bright eyed and bushy bearded and has a cheerful smile spread on his face. Infuriating. I don't need to look in a mirror to know that my eyes are puffy and probably a little red and I feel like absolute shit. Rhett looks like he just came from a spa or a cologne commercial.

"Hey," he says as we jog together. I definitely don't go all out during these workouts. Cheer is one thing and running is a whole other kind of special torture. If I could get away with doing cheer without having to run, I would. But until that day happens, I suffer through. It would be a lot easier if Rhett wasn't here bugging the crap out of me, though.

"Hey," I say, trying to get my breathing regulated. It's always a struggle to get into the right groove this early. I still have the taste of toothpaste on my tongue, and the sun is just starting to come up. The only upside to this madness is that I get to go back to my apartment and sleep for a few hours before class. I made sure that none of my classes are super early. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping through a lot of them. Cheer is where my heart is, but I won't let it take over everything.

"You okay?" he asks, not even panting that hard. I'm huffing and puffing as I try to get my body used to the fact that it's early and we're moving.

"Yeah," I say, and not just because it's hard to talk while I'm running. I don't want to be having this conversation with him. Especially not right now. Why would Rhett choose to accost me now? Seriously.

"You didn't seem fine yesterday," he says, and I have to stop being distracted by the sight of his arms pumping as he runs. He has impeccable form. Of course. I'm lumbering along next to him, and I'm sure we make a hilarious pair. Everyone else is in their zone, either with earbuds in, or having conversations in clumps. The two of us are near the back of the pack. I don't care about coming in first, and often I'm the last one to finish.