in the arms of a storm

one

Lindsey sighed at the shrill ring of the telephone. He'd already let it ring off once but whoever was on the other end this time was persistent. He wasn't really in the mood to talk on the phone and debated grabbing it and hanging up just to stop the incessant noise. He doubted anyone from the record company would take kindly to that, but at the moment he simply didn't care.

The ringing finally gave way to silence, and Lindsey relaxed, only to startle as it began again almost immediately. Having had enough, Lindsey set his drink to the side and abruptly pulled the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

Expecting to hear almost anyone else, he was floored by the voice in his ear. "Took you long enough." Oh my god. It couldn't be.

"...Stevie?" His heart suddenly felt like it was doing somersaults in his chest, his hand gripping the phone tightly to his ear. Only she would speak to him for the first time in a year and then chastise him for not picking up the phone quickly enough.

"Hello Lindsey."

"Are you-" His mind whirred, panicked at all the possibilities for why she would be calling him repeatedly. "Why would—is everything okay?"

"Oh no, everything's- well, everything's fine." She reassured, and Lindsey's heart calmed slightly before silence fell over the line. Several seconds ticked by before Lindsey finally spoke again.

"...Okay–well, great." He waited for her to reveal the reason for her call, knuckles moving absentmindedly over his denim-clad thigh as he watched the hazy evening sky slowly darken.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was hesitant, halting, "it's only that—well—I've been asked to write a song for a movie soundtrack."

Her tone didn't give much away, but he could hear her quiet enthusiasm, the latent pride there.

"That's great, Steves-" He added in quickly. He really meant it; he was so happy to hear she was recording again. He still remembered the nightmare that was the Street Angel album, when she had come to him all but in tears, threatening to throw the entire thing out.

"Mhm, and I've pretty much got the song done." She brushed off his compliment—she would see it as patronizing, he knew. Their inherent sense of competition with one another rarely allowed space for her to feel any sense of weakness. "It's just that it feels...unfinished, and well- the thing is, I think you could add something to it."

Honestly, he was beyond surprised. Of course, this wouldn't be the first time he'd given her guidance on a solo venture, but she'd usually hide any request for help behind the facade of not quite being able to get that one guitar part right, asking if he could maybe just weigh in. Never had she asked just for his presence. Never just for him.

"Oh." He attempted to keep his voice neutral, taking a breath before finally replying, "Well, I-"

"I mean of course you don't have to, I just thought you might-" She interrupted self-consciously, already backing out somehow under the impression he would refuse.

"No, no! I want to-" He protested, clinging to the chance of working with her again. Just the two of them. Just like old times, something undying whispered inside him.

"Oh." She cut herself off, something close to relief sounding in her voice. "Well, okay then."

"Just name the date," he offered, immediately cringing at the romantic connotations, wishing he would have used anything but the word 'date.'

"Okay, well... How about Wednesday?" Her voice still held a hint of surprise.

"Wednesday at 5 then."

A beat of silence. "So late?"

"Oh. I mean—assuming your days still start around 2 in the afternoon-" Lindsey explained, uncomfortable at the prospect of having guessed wrong, of not knowing her as well as he always thought he did. At least, not anymore.

"Well, yeah, but I know that you usually like to-"

"It's fine," he reassured her quickly, interrupting in his rush to appease her.

"Meet at mine?" He finally asked, changing the subject.

"If you don't mind. I mean, I wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes..." She trailed off, and Lindsey cringed at the suggestion that he'd barely taken the time to drop her at her front door after rehab before rushing back to play happy family with Cheri.

He still remembered how she'd looked that day, so tentative and unsure as she'd tugged her suitcase uncertainly behind her. As she'd gotten closer, he'd realized her expression that had been so empty and blank just a month prior had transformed; she was present behind those brown eyes in a way he hadn't seen in years. It had tugged on that part of him that would always belong to the young girl she'd left behind. And when she'd seen him waiting for her in the parking lot with a few lilies in his hand—crumpled from the nervous clasping and unclenching of his fingers—she'd smiled so widely that it had been like the sun emerging from behind the clouds. Like the sky after a storm.

She'd been quiet but attentive as he drove back towards her home in the hills, nodding and providing brief but cheery responses to his questions about her experiences in the last few weeks without him. Both of them consciously avoided mention of what she had been like when he'd last seen her—the way she'd cried in his arms as tremors wracked her body, her rock through the most painful and humiliating moments of her life.

When they'd finally arrived at the house, he'd walked with her to the door. Depositing her bag just beyond the threshold, he lingered just outside, unsure how to say what he knew must be said.

"Well?" She'd asked brightly, her mouth turning down slightly in confusion when he showed no signs of following her into her house. "Aren't you going to come in?"

Stevie, I can't. We shouldn't. I have.... And you have.... More words exchanged, meaningless but biting and even cruel. A slammed door. His car speeding down the drive. Another missed opportunity left in ashes.

"Good thing no one else is around." He responded firmly, putting her assumptions to rest.

"Well, then." He heard Stevie take a deep, shaky breath. "I'll see you."

He found himself not wanting to hang up the phone just yet, to hear her voice for a little longer. "Do you need me to drive you? Or..."

"That's alright, I'll just call for a car."

"Okay then." He let a few seconds go by before offering lamely, "Well, I guess I'll see you Wednesday."

"You will." Stevie didn't seem to be ready to hang up either, and Lindsey took comfort in the thought that she might want one more second of hearing his voice in her ear too. It lingered in his mind until he was unable to stop himself from adding, "And Stevie? It was—it was good to hear your voice."

Infinite moments stretched in the following silence.

"You too, Linds, " she finally replied softly.

"Bye, Stevie."

"Goodbye."

He held the phone in place for just a few moments more, mindlessly listening to the dial tone before slowly placing it back on the receiver with a small click.