Into Your Arms (Squad Stories #1)(68)

Reading between the lines I don't think that things were good with her adoptive parents. If she had them. She's literally never talked about parents, so I don't know. But I want to. I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life. A major part.

I know that I'm reaching and I'm pushing too far and I'm probably totally going to regret this, but I go ahead and do an online search for Rebecca Cooper. There are a lot of them, but I also happened to see her middle name, so I can narrow the results down that way. I find a Facebook page and not much else. Hmm. Usually the Internet is far more helpful than this. I might have to do some deeper digging if I'm going to find her.

Wait. What the fuck am I thinking? I delete the name from the search engine and shut my laptop. What am I doing? I can't do this. It's a massive invasion of privacy. I shouldn't even know.

But then I think about what not knowing did to me growing up. It wasn't until I was much older that I was able to find the information on my parents. Seeing the news articles about the car crash was like watching them die in front of me, but at least I knew. I knew and it wasn't my fault. My parents hadn't been terrible people. I hadn't been taken away because they were unfit. I'd just been dealt a shit hand when I was an infant. There was a kind of peace in that. Somehow.

I want Freya to have that. I want her to have answers.

It's probably wrong but . . . I go ahead and do another search and go further in the results. There. A newspaper article. About a birth.

Holy shit.

Freya

I'm relieved that Melissa got all my stuff out of my parents' house. I haven't heard from them about what's happening with their move, and I don't expect to hear anything until I get a call that they're in Florida and would I like their new address? No. Probably not. I could cut ties with them and not care. I know that makes me a horrible person. They didn't do anything terrible to me. They never hit me or badly neglected me. They never did . . . anything. So I shouldn't really hate them, but I do. It pisses me off when people complain about their parents buying them things or caring too much. Some of us would give anything to have parents that cared too much.

At least I have Mia and her parents. My surrogate family.

I end up texting Mia so we can have a Skype session. I've been neglecting her lately, and I know she has news about the guy she's seeing and wants news about Rhett. I figure it's only fair to give her a few details.

Tobi and I hit the gym the next morning, and Rhett is already on the treadmill. There are a few people on the units nearest him, so I take one all the way on the other end. Tobi takes the one next to me.

"The only good part about this is we can watch TV," she says, turning the channel to some show about people buying tiny houses.

"I thought you hated those kinds of shows," I ask, flipping mine around until it's showing reruns of my favorite show. Perfect. Guilt-free TV. What could be better?

"I love to hate them. It's a weird relationship," Tobi says, plugging in her earbuds and winking at me before she turns up the speed. I mirror her actions and set mine. Not nearly as fast as hers. When I can go at my own pace, I go slow. As long as I get my time in, it's good enough.

I start by walking and then up my pace. I glance over at Rhett every now and then but try not to be too obvious about it. He's running with his shirt off. Of course. Sweat glistens on his chest, and I'm not the only one noticing him. Someone pokes my arm and I turn to find Tobi shaking her head at me.



       
         
       
        

"Stop staring. You'll trip and break your face." I roll my eyes, but she's right. I can't lust over Rhett and run at the same time. It's only been a short time since we fucked and let's just say I'm missing it. A little. And I'm hormonal. And needing some hang and bang. Mentally slapping myself, I focus on my running. Ten minutes to go and then I'm free. The gym is surprisingly packed for early in the morning, but student athletes have to work out where they can, when they can. It's a sacrifice we make, and as much as I hate it, I would rather do this than not do cheer. I can't imagine my life without cheer.

The next time I look over, Rhett's treadmill is occupied by a girl who definitely isn't him. Where did he go? I still have a few minutes and then a cool down so I can't just look around and see if he's hitting the weights.

Tobi kicks my ass and finishes first, grinning at me.

"See you later. Oh, and he's by the bench press. Because I know you want to talk to him." She squeezes my arm and heads off. I make it through my cool down and wipe my neck and face with a towel. I'm sweating like hell. I get off the treadmill and fix my ponytail before heading to the other side of the gym where the weight machines are. Sure enough, Rhett is there, pressing a ridiculous amount of weight. Of course. That bod just doesn't happen without work. He's actually gotten stronger and more chiseled since he's been on the squad. Not that I've noticed.