I flinch away from him, but he just waits and then proceeds to clean my ripped-up knees and hands. I think the cleaning solution stings, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
Rhett patches me up without a word, throws away the stained gauze, and then brushes one finger across my cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” he says and then he’s out my door, closing it softly behind him. I slump over on the couch and let myself cry.
Rhett
I had no idea she would react like that. No idea. It’s all my fault and I feel sick about it as I go home and sit in my empty apartment. Freya isn’t here and I don’t think she ever will be again. I’ve blown it on an epic scale. Completely and totally fucked up.
I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought . . . I thought it was what I’d want. That I was helping. God, I am so fucking terrible.
How did this happen?
I pace around my apartment, and it takes everything in me to not get in my truck and go to see her. She let me clean up her scrapes, but nothing other than that. I send a few texts and even call her, but nothing. I just want to make sure she’s okay, but I don’t think I can do that. So if I can’t, there are other people who can.
“Hey,” I say when Tobi picks up my call. I’m actually surprised.
“Hey,” she says, a question in her voice as to why I’m calling her.
“Could you do me a favor?” I can almost see her rolling her eyes.
“That depends.”
“It’s not for me. It’s for Freya.” She sighs.
“What the fuck did you do?” I’m not going to tell her. I don’t think I should since it would involve telling her Freya’s secret and I’m not going to do that.
“It doesn’t matter. I just need to make sure she’s okay and I can’t be the one to do that. Will you go over and check on her?” She sighs again.
“You fucker. I’m going to pummel you one of these days. And if you did anything to physically hurt her, I swear to God, Rhett.” I know her threats are all coming from the right place, and I’d probably let her pummel me. I feel like I should just let her do it now. Might make me feel better.
Or not.
“I know, Tobi. I know. Believe me. I’m going to atone the fuck out of this, but for right now I just need to make sure she’s safe. Okay? Can you put everything aside and just do this?”
“Of course I can, asshole.” She hangs up, and I let out a shaky breath. I have no idea what Freya is going to tell Tobi about what I did and now I just have to sit here with my phone and wait for Tobi to text or call me and let me know if Freya is okay. I’m never going to forgive myself for this, and I’m definitely not going to get over it if anything happens to her because of me.
It wasn’t that hard to find Freya’s birth mother. Just a quick online search and there she was. I found her on Facebook and before I could second-guess myself, I sent her a message. She responded right away, and I could feel the sincerity in her message. She wanted very much to get in contact with Freya and asked me if I could bring that about. I told her that I would have to talk to Freya and get back to her.
Now I have a message waiting from her and I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell her that I ruined everything. I pace my apartment and I’m so fired up that I need something to do with my hands so I don’t lose my mind. Nothing better for hands than chopping a lot of vegetables, so I decide to make a stir fry. But I have to be careful with the knife so I don’t cut myself. My worry about Freya has taken over my entire body and mind and it’s making my hands shake. I put down the knife just as I get a text from Tobi.
Fucker. She’s a mess, but I’ve got it under control. I’ll deal with you later.
I exhale and set my phone down. Tobi is with her. She’s going to be okay. Or at least as okay as she can be. I go back to clumsily chopping carrots and broccoli and bok choy and onions. I send Tobi a text back thanking her for taking care of Freya. She just sends me an angry emoji as a response. Got it.
I finish making my stir fry and toss it in the wok, but I have no desire to actually eat it. After forcing a few forkfuls into my mouth, I put the rest in a plastic container and set it in the fridge. I clean the kitchen within an in inch of its life and think about maybe doing some homework when there’s a loud knock at my door. I nearly break every bone in my body rushing to open it, but instead of Freya, I find Tobi on the other side.
“Hey,” I say, stepping back to let her in. Her face is thunderous as she stalks inside and I shut the door behind her.
“Hey, asshole. I don’t know what you did because she won’t tell me, but you’ve done a number on that girl, and it’s taking everything in me to not set you on fire right now.” I sigh and go to sit on the couch, putting my head in my hands.
“I’d let you,” I mumble. She reluctantly sits down next to me and crosses her arms.
“But,” she says, and I raise my head.
“But? There’s a but?” I ask. Her eyes narrow.
“But, I know that you didn’t do anything malicious to her. You were trying to do something nice, and it backfired. She pretty much admitted that to me. I know Freya can . . . go a little overboard with her reactions about things. That’s just how she is and you take the good with the bad. Not saying I’m perfect either, but we all have flaws. Once I got her calmed down and got her talking, I think she was regretting how things turned out. I’m not saying that she’s going to let you in or forgive you for whatever it was, but you might, might, have a shot. Maybe. I’m still trying to decide if you’re worthy of it or not.” I shake my head.
“I’m not. But I’d like to give it a try anyway.” Tobi gives me something that’s almost a smile and pats my arm.
“I know you care about her. Anyone can see that. And I know you care about her in the right way. She’s definitely been a lot happier since you crashed into her life. I can see you’re good for her. Don’t think this is an endorsement.” She points at me and I put my hands up.
“I know.”
“Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that I hope you can work things out. Because she was pretty devastated, and I don’t like seeing my friend like that. You hurt her, and that’s not just going to go away because you flash a smile and make her all gooey in her girl parts. You’re gonna have to work for it. And I’m going to be supervising you closely. So don’t fuck it up. Again.” With one last hard look, she’s off the couch and heading out the door.
“Is she okay? Or as okay as she can be?” I ask.
She turns. “She’s a tough one. She’ll get through it.” She is. Freya is the strongest person I know. I can’t even imagine the courage it took for her to pack up her entire life and move here to Maine to find her birth mother. I know I couldn’t have done it.
I get out my homework after Tobi leaves and consider texting Freya, but I think I should give her at least a day before I try that. Besides, I’ll see her tomorrow morning for our workout. I hope.
* * *
She doesn’t show. I ask Tobi about it and she just tells me that I should give her time. Okay, I can do that.
But then she doesn’t show up at practice. Tobi texts her, frowning at her response and then has a word with Coach. I try to get her attention, but she ignores me.
Fuck. This is my fault. Coach is flipping out and scrambling the stunt groups, but it just ends up in disaster, so we go through the motions with Freya’s stunts. No one else seems to be all that concerned about her, and it’s making me angry. Freya just doesn’t miss practice.
“I’m going to check on her, relax,” Tobi says as I bolt out of practice.
“I just . . .” I say, holding up my hands and then dropping them.
“I know,” she says. “I’ll call you.”
Freya
Tobi made me some brownies and shoved a plate of them in my face when I opened the door to my apartment. Gwen, Willow, and Carrie were behind her with bottles of wine and other salty snacks. A cheer-up-Freya part
y. I wasn’t in the mood.
“Here, eat your feelings,” Tobi said. I opened my mouth to yell at her, but nothing came out. I know I’m being a bitch. I know I overreacted and shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me like that. But it happened and now I’m shit out of luck.
And then I let them in and we eat and do pedicures and bitch about the fact that Coach changed our music again, but all I can think about is the fact that he found her.
He found her and my first instinct was to jump out of the truck and run away. I guess when it comes to fight or flight, I choose the flying. I’m used to it?
Ugh. I’m mad at myself. Once I had a moment to cool down, I thought better of everything and realized that I should have, you know, talked to Rhett about it. How did he find her? Did he call her on the phone? Where is she? What did she say? How did he get her name?
I didn’t ask any of those things. Nope. I flipped out, made him take me home, scraped my hands and knees up, cried on the couch, and ate two containers of ice cream. By myself. In one sitting. That was a bad night.
After the girls left, I continued to wallow and ignore texts and calls. I even ignored Mia. Fortunately for me, Tobi didn’t ask any questions. For some reason. She didn’t ask what, specifically, Rhett had done. I just told her that he’d done something, but not something bad. Something he thought was helping me and I took it badly. Because that’s really how it went. Now that I’ve had some actual time to think about it, I know that he did it because he cares about me. And I lost it.
I’d like to blame it on shock, but I’m not sure that I can. And now I don’t know if I should call him or what. I just . . . I can’t face him now. I’m still a little mad and I’m embarrassed and I miss him and everything in my brain is all fucked up and I don’t know what to do. So I’ve decided to sequester myself in my house and not talk to anyone. Best course of action. Right?
Probably not. But that’s what I’m doing. I emailed Coach and let her know I was going to be out for the whole week. She’s pissed, but I claimed some sort of illness. I can’t handle practice right now. I can’t handle anything right now. Just getting up and eating is almost too much.
Rhett waits until my second day of locking myself in my apartment to text me. I’m actually surprised he waited that long. I expected him to show up like he’s done before.
But he doesn’t. I go back to class on Wednesday but avoid the library and change my gym schedule so I don’t see him. At practice, I don’t talk to him at all. I freeze him out, and he gets the hint after he tries to talk to me a few times. I go to class and come home. That’s it. I almost develop this fear of flannel and dudes with dark hair. It would be just my luck to run into him on campus.
I don’t.
It’s the actual worst week of my life. Have hours and days always been that long? I’m not sure. Time stretches out and seems to last forever and I just want to break down and call him or drive to his place or even talk to him while we’re stunting and working on a ball-up heel stretch tick-tock. I get in my car several times and almost go to his apartment, but then I stop myself.
What the fuck do I say to him? What do I do? How can we repair the damage? We aren’t even dating. Even though I am pretty sure that I’m in love with him.
I don’t know how it happened. I only know that it has and there’s nothing I can do about it. I could literally never see him again, and I’ll carry this damn torch for the rest of my life. I’ll probably marry some dude just because that’s what I’m supposed to do and when I’m old, I’ll tell my grandchildren about the one that got away.
I’m in an impossible situation, so I just sort of hide under a blanket for a week. The cheer girls try to lift my spirits by getting me to go out and have lots of pizza and manicures at Tobi’s house. Coach is also making us do “squad bonding” activities like trust falls and shit.
“Do you trust me?” Tobi says in a deep voice as Willow and Carrie repeatedly fall into each other and just giggle and flirt. Seeing them happy makes me want to cry. Rhett is on the other side of the room with Gwen and Clint. I can see him in my peripheral vision.
“This is crap,” I say, falling and letting her catch me.
“This is serious. This. Is. TRUST FALLSSSSS!” I roll my eyes at her and go back to trying to ignore Rhett.
But avoiding him can only work for so long . . .
17
Freya
“You need to face him. He’s been a complete wreck this week,” Tobi says on Sunday afternoon when she comes over to make sure I’m okay. I’ve barely been talking to her during practice, but Coach is up our asses because we’re preparing to make our video submission for a bid to Nationals, so there hasn’t been much extraneous chatter.
“And you miss him.” I do. A frustrated sound escapes my mouth, and I cover my face with a blanket.
“And you totally love him and he totally loves you,” she says in sing song. I whip the blanket off my face.
“Wait, what?”
“He loves you. Did you not know that? How could you not know that? Haven’t you talked about that yet?”
“Noooooo,” I wail again. “What are you talking about?”
She gives me a look like I’m being supremely dense. Maybe I am. But I can’t help it right now. I’ve never been good at all of this stuff.
“Really, Frey? Really?!” I groan and fall into her lap. She laughs.
“You poor thing. I’m not jealous of this at all. This is why I stay away from all guys. Except for the ones that I meet and then don’t ever see again.” Yes, Tobi has a habit of doing that whenever she’s feeling a little frisky. I couldn’t do it, but I guess it works for her so, whatever. As long as it works, I’m no one to judge.
“What do I doooo?” I say, my voice muffled. She pulls my hair back and tucks it behind my ear.
“Tell him. Tell him you love him. Because he does and then you can get over yourselves and be disgusting and happy and shit and make the rest of us want to vomit. Sound good?” No. I mean, I guess the being disgusting and happy part does, but how do I get to that part without doing the telling and the talking and the awkward stuff? Is there a fast-forward button?
“Do I have to?” I say.
“No. You don’t have to do anything. But I think you’ll regret it if you don’t. And you need to fix things, because we can’t go to Nationals without you two on the top of your game.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“Okay, then. So get off your ass, take a damn shower, put on some eyeliner, and deal with it. You’re a grown-ass woman. Act like it.” Tobi is good at the pep talks, but she also shoves me off her lap and then yanks me up. She’s got strength and height on her side, so I end up on my feet.
“Get your shit together,” she says, squeezing my hands.
* * *
Monday morning I’m flipping out. I couldn’t sleep at all last night, so I probably look like absolute crap, but at least I showered and brushed my hair and am wearing clean clothes. That’s something.
I’m so stressed that I get to the gym nearly a half hour before anyone else. It’s like four-thirty in the fucking morning or night or whichever, and I’m one of only three people on the treadmills. I figure if I get running I can get it over with quicker, so I hop on a treadmill and start. I keep myself aware of the two empty treadmills on either side of me and sure enough, someone takes the one on my right. I hit a few buttons on the treadmill and slow to a walk.
“Hey,” I finally say, my voice shaking. I’m gonna blame it on the running if anyone asks.
“Hey,” he says carefully, turning the treadmill on to the same speed so he’s also walking. I’m staring straight ahead, and I can’t turn and look at him yet. But I feel him next to me and part of me wants to throw myself at him, but that would lead to injury for both of us.
“We should probably talk,” I finally say.
“Probably.” He’s being cautious and I wonder what his expression is. But I’m not looking. I will
not look at him. I can’t look at him because looking at his face scrambles my brain and makes words hard.
“Are you okay?” His voice is tight and it’s like we’re acquaintances and not people who have fucked repeatedly. “I’ve tried to talk to you all week and you’ve iced me out. I’m sorry, Freya.”
“I know.” We’re both walking and he ramps up the treadmill, so I do the same. I hate running and talking but if this is the way we have to do it, this is the way we have to do it.
“I was really worried about you. You scared the fuck out of me. Are your hands and knees okay?” I nod, which almost throws me off balance. Use your words, Freya.
“They’re fine,” I say, even though I’ve got some sexy, sexy scabs I’m working on right now. Everyone’s been asking me what happened to my hands, and I just keep telling them I was drunk. It’s easier that way. And more acceptable.
“I was really worried about you,” he says again. “And I just wanted to come over so I could see if you were okay, or as okay as you could be and apologize. Or at least start a long string of apologies that I’ll probably be making for the rest of my life, even if you’re not around to hear them.”
I have to slow the treadmill again. I can’t run and process this at the same time. Too much for my brain to handle.
“I’m sorry too,” I say. Those are the words that have been stuck in my throat for a week. “I didn’t know how to handle things and I handled them badly. I honestly don’t know how I could have done it differently, but I think bailing out of your truck was probably a bad idea.” I almost laugh, but I just can’t.
“I didn’t mean for it to end up like that. I should have thought of you and not about what I would have wanted. I should have talked to you about it and I didn’t and I’m so sorry that I fucked up so badly.” Now I have to turn the treadmill off. I do and finally turn to him.
“You were doing something nice, and I couldn’t handle it. That’s neither of our faults. I don’t think. It is what it is and it happened. So what are we gonna do about it?” I cross my arms, and he turns off his treadmill and faces me.