Into Your Arms (Squad Stories #1)(42)

"I know. But I'm still going to worry about you. I'll always worry about you. That's my job as your best friend and one I take very seriously." She raises her stubborn chin and I finally smile. There's the best friend I know and love.

"Will you at least come back for Christmas?" This is something I've been putting off telling her for a while. I'm scared if I go back to Texas, even for a few days, that Mia and her family and all my friends back there will convince me not to come back. And I can't do that. I can't let emotions and all of that cloud my intentions. I'm not going to look back on my life and have this be my biggest regret. I can't.



       
         
       
        

"We'll see. I'm going to have cheer, and I can't miss anything," I say and her face falls.

"My parents are all set to have you. They won't shut up about it." Way to twist the knife, Mia. I know her parents miss me, and I miss them. I still call them once or twice a week and put on my happy voice and tell them that everything is great and that I'm happy. I know they don't believe me, but they don't push either. Melissa still sends me letters, and I cherish every one of them.

"I'm not saying no, it's just . . . we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now I just need to get through today and tomorrow and the next day." She lets out a long breath.

"I'm still worried about you. If you ever need me to get on a plane and come get you, I will. And I'll come with you to find your birth mom. You know I will. I love you, and I want you to have the world." I'm getting teary again.

"I know and I love you too. I want you to have the world."

* * *

I'm a bit of a wreck after I talk to Mia, and I don't want to sit in my apartment alone. But I don't want to go to the library or do anything else. I just want . . . I don't know what I want, but I get in my car and then I find myself at Rhett's apartment complex. Probably should have called, but I didn't know until I got in my car that this was my destination.

The lights are on in his place and his truck is here, so he's got to be home. I walk up the stairs and knock on his door. I take a breath and he opens the door, surprised to see me.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I open my mouth to answer him, but I just shrug instead.

"I'm not really sure."

I walk in and flop on the couch. The TV is on and he's watching a popular show with dragons and sword fights and lots of beheading. He's even got snacks and everything. Party for one. Reaching for a handful of popcorn, I lean back on his couch. I really do love how comfortable it is. Better than mine.

"You okay?" he asks, sitting next to me and grabbing the bowl of popcorn to set between us.

"Sure," I say, my eyes on the screen.

"Not to be an asshole, but your eyes are a little red and puffy." That's an understatement. I am one of the ugliest criers you'll ever see. It takes forever for my face to go back to normal after I cry. I hate it. My skin gets all blotchy and my eyes puff up and my eyeballs get all red. Gross.

"Yeah, I know," I say, shoving more popcorn into my mouth.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Now I turn my head toward him and give him a look. He raises his eyebrows.

"Noted. Carry on." And he turns his head back to the screen and doesn't say another thing about it. 

Oh. That's nice. I'm not used to people just dropping something like that. I hope he's not luring me into a false sense of security and then going to try and weasel it out of me.

He doesn't. The only thing he asks me is if I want to watch anything else, and I say I don't. He asks if I want more popcorn and I say I do, so he makes some. Rhett also offers me a beer, and I take him up on it. Just one.

There's a marathon of the show, so I stay to watch three episodes, until it's pretty late, but he doesn't mention anything about me leaving. I sip my beer and pull down the blanket again, wrapping myself up.

It smells like him, and I despise how much I like it. I've been here less than a dozen times, and I already feel completely comfortable. Maybe it's because Rhett sees me at my absolute worst in the mornings when we run, or when we've had a long practice and I'm drenched in sweat and makeup free.

I never worry about impressing Rhett. Maybe I should. Oops. Too late now.

"You wanna stay?" he says, turning his head.

"No, I'm fine. I just needed to get out of the house and then I found myself here. I needed to be alone. With someone." That makes absolutely no sense, but he nods as if it does.

"I get that. You can come here to be alone with me anytime you want. My door is always open to you. There's a spare key under the mat if you need it." Okay, now this is getting weird. I don't like that I now know where to find his spare key. It's too intimate. Too close.