My Fate for Yours

by Steph Campbell

  “Is that a bad thing?” I ask. My voice hitches up, playing against my fearless persona because Eamon’s different. More. I don’t feel fearless in this moment, but I’m also not letting it go.

  He strokes the side of my body with his hand, and brushes the rough skin of his thumb along my bottom lip. “If it was a bad thing, I wouldn’t be here.”

  An ache of wanting spreads through me as his hands pull more desperately and his mouth crushes against mine. I want to know what changed. Why this is suddenly okay. I also want to think less and feel more.

  Eamon deepens our kiss, pushing me against the wall of the cabin, running his hands just under my bum to scoot me up on the wall. I wrap my legs around him as his hips press into me, and the newness and familiarity and frantic desire take over.

  His hands are everywhere, and I should be tired from holding on to his waist with my legs and he should be tired from holding me against the wall, but nothing registers but his hands and his lips and his warmth and strength and breath.

  The small flashlight goes out, leaving us in almost pitch black. My senses snap back to the present as I let my legs slowly slide down until my feet touch the ground. Our breathing echoes in the small room but I can only make out his outline in the darkness.

  Now that we’ve separated, I’m not sure what’s okay. Can I touch him? Hug him? Thank him? That seems sort of idiotic after probably the most erotic moments of my life. Before giving it any more thought I reach forward letting my hand touch his chest and slide down his abs stopping at the top of his jeans. As much as I don’t want to leave this place I say, “I guess we should go.”

  Eamon doesn’t speak, just steps closer into that perfect distance where he’s in my space but we’re not touching, just feeling each other near. I close my eyes and breathe in, the smell of Eamon mixing with the old wood and lake breeze. He takes the hand I have resting on the top of his pants and slides our fingers together, giving me one small kiss on the underside of my chin, which nearly makes me stumble even though I’m still leaning against the wall.

  “Rachel,” he whispers as his lips brush against my cheek and he takes the half stop that presses us together. “What are you doing to me?”

  I bite his lower lip pulling a groan from him. “I have no idea.” But it feels like flying.

  Eamon finally steps back and holding my hand in his, we walk back to his truck. I’m half wondering if he’ll invite me for a drive, but instead our fingers slowly slip away, both of us sort of realizing whatever just happened between us is over for the night.

  “See you,” I say as I walk backwards a few steps.

  “Run home fast.” He winks, but it feels different than the winks he usually gives. This time he’s trying not to show me how he feels instead of his usual, classic Eamon flirtation. I’m taking this as a sign of a big step forward with a guy I’ve watched since I can remember.

  7

  Eamon

  “It’s called steppin’ stones, E.” Traive’s grin is almost as wide as mine. “Look at the pretty colors attached with rope. It’s practically for little kids.”

  I look again at the assortment of boogie boards, inner tubes, and wake boards strung across the river. This would be tricky but not a big deal except a kid named Tim got bit by a gator near here last year and lost his leg. We keep scanning the shoreline, but the damn things are crafty.

  Nelson’s on the far side of the river in his small, metal boat. Even that thing’s a risk in this mess, but he’s got a gun on the seat, and a hold of the opposite shore.

  I’m standing in shorts and bare feet getting ready to beat Traive across this thing, which I will because I’m faster. He’s invited a small crew with him, like always. Band mates of his. Or… the band he’s in now until he gets hammered a few too many times and misses too many shows for them to keep him on.

  “Chicken?” Traive slaps me on the back. “Want me to show you how it’s done?”

  “Fuck off.” I gauge how fast the water is flowing, how far I have to go, and how carefully I need to keep my balance.

  This is fucking insane. Even I know it. But God the rush is already coursing through me, drowning out everything else. Whatever the hell I’m doing with Rachel, Tobin being totally MIA, Jerry wanting me to take over part of Stine’s welding. Even Traive’s stupid-ass harassing and the yells from his friends fade into the background as anticipation of the rush takes over.

  Traive opens his mouth to say something else, and I jump onto the first board, which immediately flips only I push off just fast enough to land on my stomach on the inner tube it’s tied to. The tube half sinks into the water because it’s made for a five year old instead of a man, but the point is that I need to get across. I shove off the inner tube just as Nelson screams the exact words I don’t want to hear.

  “Gator!”

  Now the stakes are high enough to mean something because I’ve fallen, jumped, flipped, spun, run, into rivers more times than I can count. But this is better. Adrenaline hits me in the exact kind of burst I need. Crave. I launch on to a wakeboard, and then another surfboard, a little wider than the last. The current keeps shaking the boards and forcing them into jigging patterns against the yellow rope.

  “Faster you pussy!” Traive yells in his drunk voice. I take the time to flip him off before skittering over the air mattress that’s been twisted in the current.

  Nelson has his gun aimed somewhere near my feet, but there’s no time to check for gator teeth. A small canoe is next, and I fly over that before hitting the last inner tube and launching myself at the shore.

  “Holy fuck!” Nelson screams as he fires round after round into the river. He’s standing now, probably the palest and most out of shape of all the boys I hang with, but not a bad guy. More Tobin’s age than mine and can drink every one of us under the table on account of his size.

  “Hells yeah!” Nelson yells and he points.

  I turn back to see the biggest gator I’ve ever seen roll belly-side up and hit the side of Nelson’s boat.

  “That fucker was about two inches from your heel man, and about three feet from my boat.” He spins to face me before looking back at the carcass.

  I laugh a little as I slide into Nelson’s boat, which is about the same length as the massive alligator banging against its side in the current. The adrenaline’s already leaving my system even though I’m staring at this huge-ass gator, knowing it could’ve taken my leg.

  “My dad’s going to shit his pants when he sees this.” Nelson smiles wide as he sticks the gator hooks he had me make and tries to drag it to shore around his boat.

  “Who’s next?” I yell already missing the rush. I’m wondering what else we have going on today because I need more than the minute it took me to go across the river.

  “That was in-sane!” Traive yells.

  “Did you babies put all this shit together just for me? Or is one of you man enough to come across?” I call back.

  “Not after seeing Nelson shoot Godzilla over there!” One of the guys shoots back.

  “Where did all this crap come from?” I ask Nelson who’s still tugging on the massive gator. I can see already he’ll have a hard ass time just getting the thing in his boat to take home because it’s only half on the shore. Nelson lives up the river about a mile or so and his little boat might not handle the weight.

  “Random crap Dad had in his shed. Traive was sleeping off some of last night in the yard, and—”

  “Last night too?” I shake my head. “Stupid asshole.” He’s been getting wasted more than Tobin. Only with Traive, it makes him stupid instead of a mopey pile of shit. He’ll kill himself if he keeps on that way. Not that it’s my business.

  Nelson just shrugs. “We could head to the track and ride?”

  “Something,” I say before deciding that I’m going back across the river the same way I came over. One minute wasn’t nearly long enough of a fix. As I stand in Nelson’s boat ready for the first obstacle, once again, everythi
ng disappears in the best kind of high as I jump onto the first tube, Traive and his crew cheering me on from the other side.

  ***

  I love my brother, but dammit he still isn’t home and the other strike against him is that about a month ago he taught our Ma how to text. This means I’m now at the grocery store with a list of stuff Ma needs me to get.

  I’m ready to not be wearing my work boots, and part of me wants to call Pop and tell him that Ma needs stuff at the store, but as I scroll down the list, I’m pretty sure she’s planning on making pie, so I’ll let it slide.

  “Eamon LeJeune.” Rachel’s mom stops about three feet in front of me. “I didn’t know you did things as tame as shop at the Market Basket.”

  I give her a wide smile. “Lovely to see you Ms. Adair, as always.”

  She shakes her head with the mischievous smile she passed on to her daughter. “Forever the charmer, aren’t you Eamon?”

  “Only to women as forever gorgeous as yourself.” I step behind her chair and rest my hands on the hand holds. “Can I help out any?”

  She reaches back and slaps my hands off her chair with a laugh. “Where is your pickup truck Mr. LeJeune?”

  I start chuckling before she finishes because I know exactly where she’s going with this round of questioning. “At the bottom of the lake in front of Nelson’s house, ma’am.”

  She spins her chair around, and I forget how good she is in that thing. It’s just her legs. The rest of her works just fine. “That’s what I thought. I can drive myself thank you very much.”

  I back up with my hands in the air, and then glance around the store. “Rachel here?”

  Now I can feel the look Ms. Adair gives me when Rachel comes up and unease pools in my stomach. She should know better than to want me with her daughter. Hell, I should know better, but now...

  “Somewhere around her...” she trails off.

  “I gotta get Ma’s list done. Take care.” I step back, chest tight and feeling suddenly pathetic. Seeing Rachel after the cabin should be good. I step into the baking aisle and nearly run into her.

  “Well aren’t you looking all domestic,” she teases as she bumps the grocery basket full of eggs, cream and spices.

  A rush of air leaves me as I realize this is Rachel, and of course we’re fine.

  “You’re the second woman to tease me since I stepped into this store,” I joke back. “I may not ever come back if this is how I’m treated.”

  “I’m guessing the first person was Mama?” She quirks a brow and once again I notice the circles under her eyes.

  I reach out and nearly touch her but let my hand drop. “You sleeping enough?”

  She shrugs. “Mostly I’m trying to find more time to run. Shut my brain down so I can sleep.”

  It’s not a problem I’ve ever had. I play hard, work hard and sleep hard. “You two let me know if you need anything. I gotta get Ma’s list to her or she won’t have time to make me a pie.”

  Rachel gives me an indulgent smile before pushing my shoulder. In the briefest second I see the girl I’ve known forever. The one who sticks around even though she knows more about me than anyone but my brother. I get this urge to rest my hand over hers, to lean down and feel our lips together, run my hand around her waist for a hug, even if that’s all we had time for.

  “Don’t want you to miss out on your pie.” She steps around me because my brain is weaving through too many memories and realizations for me to hold on to any of them. How did Rachel stay the same but feel so...different?

  8

  Rachel

  It’s two in the afternoon before I roll out of bed making me realize that something’s gotta give. I can’t keep up my schedule. I have six hours before I need to be at Carl’s, which is the job I need for the tips. I also have a couple hours of homework to do before my class tomorrow. Only kissing Eamon is all I can think about. It’s like when I finally got to kiss Chandler Fletch in sixth grade, and I drew his name on everything I owned. I learned this was a ridiculous thing to do when he broke up with me two weeks later, but this is what my thoughts are like. I’m not sure how long I was pinned between Eamon and the wall of that small cabin, but it wasn’t long enough.

  We walked back out the trail the same way we walked in, and I thought it would be awkward to say goodbye. Like neither of us would know what to do, but it was fine. And I ran into him at Trader Joe’s and that was fine, too. Maybe we are okay as friends. Only now I’m wondering if that’ll be enough--not that it ever has been.

  My phone beeps in a text and I flip it over. Leslie.

  EAMON SEEMS SET ON KILLING HIMSELF ON THE TRACK TODAY. U KNOW WHTS UP?

  Both of us have been high-stress lately. He just needs to burn off some steam, and the track is probably the safest way for someone like Eamon to do it. I’m probably glad I don’t know what he did with his day before he hit the track. I try to ignore the gnawing feeling that whatever is going on between Eamon and I has brought on this new wave of recklessness in him.

  JUST TOBIN MAYBE?

  I let out a sigh and slip my bikini on before sliding up my cut-offs and a tank. Those boys always want to go for a swim after riding, so I know I need to be prepared. Daryl’s son broke his neck on that track, now he’s crazy about the protection the guys, well and girls, need to wear, and even in the winter it turns everyone into a sweaty mess.

  Eamon went out on the track once without his gear and Daryl banned him for a month and stuck to it. Eamon was pissed, and it’s still the only place he rides with any amount of protection aside from his helmet, which is on about half the time.

  I had to sell my bike last year, which sucks, but I throw my helmet and pads in anyway.

  The humidity has me a sticky mess by the time I make it up the old clay road to the motocross track in Rainy. Arnaud’s house is just a mile or so from here, so I should probably stop by later on and give it the once-over Mama asked me to.

  Eamon’s truck is here at the track parked next to Traive and a few others. Leslie stands and waves from the stands, her blond hair flying as she moves. I’m amazed she’s still in Crawford. She and Traive have talked about moving to New Orleans or Atlanta since high school. She’s working as a paralegal but wants to get a law degree. It sorta cracks me up because she’s looks like a country-hick fake blonde, but the girl is wicked smart and damn funny.

  “Rachella!” she yells and I roll my eyes at the name my mama gave me. The one I haven’t used since I was six.

  “You riding today?” she calls as I get closer.

  I shrug as I step under the shade and take a deep breath of heavy, wet air. “Damn, it’s hot. I packed my gear, but I can’t imagine putting it on.”

  I scan the track and catch sight of Eamon just as he takes the far jump at twice the speed he should. My stomach drops as I hold my breath and he lands so hard I can feel it in my neck. “Holy...”

  “Told ya.” Leslie shakes her head. “Been like that since he got here. Been doing flips even though not a one of these jumps is designed for it. He’s crashed hard twice.”

  “Damn Tobin.” I rest my hands on my hips. “I’m gonna kill him when I see him again.” Because I can’t imagine anything tearing Eamon up like Tobin acting like a prick.

  “Looks like you’re about to get your chance.” Leslie points toward the parking lot and my eyes flash over to see Tobin climbing out of his truck like it’s any other damn day.

  Fury races through me as I head his direction.

  “Hey, Rachel!” His smile is easy and normal, and the only thing I notice is that he’s not drunk. My fist connects with his nose using every ounce of strength I have. Tobin and I are friends, but we aren’t close like me and Eamon. He’s just enough younger that I didn’t play with him as much, and then Delia took over everything when he was finally old enough to be tolerable. I have zero reservations in breaking his nose. Just not my knuckles I think, as pain races through me.

  “Holy shit!” I yell as I grab my hand.r />
  “Dammit, Rachel!” Tobin yells back. “What the fuck was that for?”

  “Jesus you two!” Leslie runs up behind me.

  I shake my hand a few times like the pain will somehow dissolve, but I’m gonna need some ice.

  “Rachel?” Tobin’s eyes are still wide as he stares at me.

  “Don’t Rachel me.” I stand to face him, and there’s a small trickle of blood coming from his nose, which is incredibly satisfying and worth whatever I just did to my hand.

  “What the hell?” He swipes at his face.

  “Do you know what kind of hell you put your brother through? Your mama? Seriously, Tobin, you’re damn selfish!” I step toward him, still gently rubbing my knuckles, and he takes a half step back even though he’s as tall as his brother.

  Eamon slides to a stop and jerks off his helmet, letting his bike fall to the ground and comes running in our direction. I can’t read his expression and my stomach flips over in nerves.

  This might not be good.

  I’m waiting for Eamon to tackle his brother in fury but instead he puts his arms around him. It takes Tobin a moment but he hugs him back and then I hear Eamon talk, but just barely.

  “You scared the shit out of me. Never. Again. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  They hold each other long enough that emotion wells up in me to the point where I’m almost pushing back tears. No matter how close I am to Eamon, it doesn’t come close to what those brothers have with each other.

  And then they start slapping backs and step away smiling because they’re guys.

  “What the hell happened to your nose?” Eamon frowns as he steps back.

  Tobin points at me. “Blame her.”

  Eamon tries to hold in his smile but completely fails. “That’s my girl.” He gives me a gentle punch to the shoulder, which my body feels in ways it definitely shouldn’t.

  Tobin’s eyes flash between us quickly enough to not be noticed, but specific enough for me to see he has questions. Well so do I. About a million. And I’m terrified to ask any of them.