“Everyone grows up eventually,” I say before realizing I may have said something I didn’t mean to. “I’m sure he’ll be fifty before it happens and the rest of us will be long gone and married.”
Leslie smiles. “Traive and I will be for sure.”
It’s no surprise that they’ve talked about getting married. We’ve teased them forever. “You two still thinking of moving?”
“Yeah.” Her drawl is thick. “Pretty sure we’re going to Atlanta in the fall. I’m ready to be out of the dirt and on city streets. He’s got a few music contacts there, so he’ll have something to do that doesn’t involve mud, gators or guns.”
We all chat about something and nothing for a while, and the whole time I try not to think about how I had sex with Eamon LeJeune this afternoon and I can’t wait to do it again. But it’s more than that. I want to talk about how much I’ve loved him. How it’s not just the kissing or the touching but how the way I’m sure he feels and how the way I feel all tangle up as much as we do. How hopeful I am even though we both said for the weekend.
The sound of Eamon’s Jeep and Nelson’s crazy welded custom rig fill the small house and we run out to the porch.
I step outside just in time to see Eamon covered in mud and smiling wide, jump out of his truck.
“We’re washing off in the ocean!” Traive shouts. “If the ladies don’t want to join us, we may take them by force!”
And we all know they would. The group of us runs for the water not bothering to shed any clothes before diving into the shallow depths near the shore. I’m aware of very little aside from my proximity to Eamon. Where he is, where he’s looking. I back up further and further into the ocean while their voices turn into an excited hum with a few occasional squeals. And then my heart drops because I’ve lost sight of Eamon.
I scan the group again, but the light from the small beach house doesn’t carry very far. It shouldn’t matter that I can’t see him. Better even because now I won’t be wishing his arms were around me or that his lips were trailing up my neck in full sight of the people we spend the most time with.
Eamon appears out of the water next to me making me jump. “Shit, E.”
“Hey.” His fingertips slide across my stomach. “I will be finding you tonight. Just wanted to warn you.”
I reach toward him and trail my fingers just inside the waist of his shorts. “I’ll be waiting for you tonight. Consider yourself warned, too.”
Eamon’s smile is so perfect I want to soak up all the parts of this moment and wrap them up.
Tonight.
After a few more minutes of wishing Eamon could make his way back to me, I give up and sit on the shore to dry off. The house a few lots down has music on and I close my eyes and let myself sway to the music.
“Nice.” Kelly sits beside me.
I close my eyes again and feel the soft melody flow through me. “Yeah.”
She stands up, reaches down and pulls me to my feet. Even though the rest of our group is still laughing in the water, and the music seems to have disappeared, I find a soft rhythm in the waves and let myself relax enough to move.
The sand is soft through my toes, and the hot air wraps around me, and the quiet shushing of the waves on the shore all add to the perfect moment. This is exactly what I needed.
Splashing and new sounds pull me from my imagined song and I open my eyes to see Eamon staring.
We give each other a smile that’s at least as much full of friendship as anything else until Eamon glances at his feet, stealing one more look over his shoulder before his brother hauls him into the house.
Of all the beginnings of all the relationships I’ve ever had. This is easily the best. Now I just hope it’s actually going somewhere.
***
I have scrubbed every inch of my body because it feels like every time Eamon and I have been close, I’ve been a sweaty mess. He hasn’t seemed to mind, but as good as the sex was this afternoon—and lord was it good, I wouldn’t mind it being even more special tonight, too. The house has been quiet for an hour, and I feel like some ridiculous damsel waiting for her prince or the servant boy or...
My door slowly clicks open and Eamon steps inside, quietly closing the door behind him. There’s nothing but soft, slanting light filtering in through the window from the small outdoor light.
Eamon doesn’t hesitate in moving to where I am on the bed.
My heart squeezes as the shadows spread across the face I’ve known since I was five. It squeezes harder with the way he’s looking at me, the face of a man. A man who is determined and sure and knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m sure Eamon has this look down, but tonight I’m going to pretend he’s the kind of guy to stick around after something like this and pretend that every touch is for me and that I don’t need to capture every moment of our time together like a photograph in my brain because we’ll have millions of moments in the future.
Even if the truth is, we won’t—and we both know it.
He sits facing me, his eyes searching my face the way I was just searching his. I wish so hard I could ask him what he’s thinking right now, but I’m not about to ruin this moment for anything.
He reaches forward taking a few strands of my hair between his fingers before letting go. “You’re gorgeous, Rachel, you know that?”
I glance down, unsure of how I should feel or react. “How’s your arm?”
“Hurts a little, but it’s fine.”
I touch the back of his hand and slowly move my fingers up toward the tiny stitches. “I’ll try not to grab you there again.”
Eamon’s finger rests on my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You can grab me anywhere you want.”
We’re both smiling huge smiles when he leans in and presses our lips together. This isn’t like any other time Eamon’s touched me.
He’s slow. Methodical. His lips make trails up my neck and down my shoulders making me gasp. It takes all my willpower not to let out any of the noises that seem to come out of me when I’m with him.
His hands slide up the back of my shirt and I start to tug, but Eamon’s hands clasp over mine. “Let me.”
There’s a small part of me that wants to scream and twirl and be a loud, happy mess over this, but Eamon moves a few inches closer and everything but him and me and the night fuzzes out.
My tank is slowly pulled over my head, and then my panties tugged pulled down my legs, Eamon lightly running his hands over everything he’s just uncovered, leaving me about two seconds from explosion point.
I push him away gently and force him to lie down. I lie next to him, the patterned shadows from the windows now covering my skin. I do the same for Eamon. Sliding off his shirt and then his bottoms, running my hands over every part of him.
It unspoken, but we both want to take our time, because there won’t be many moments like this between us.
I reach over Eamon’s chest and pick up the condom I left by the bed.
“What’s that?” He holds my wrist.
I open my mouth to speak but his smile widens stopping me.
“Just one?” He cocks a brow. “That’s so cute.”
I freeze wondering if I should feel stupid or okay, but Eamon sits up, rolling me onto my back and resting his weight on me. If I thought my body was going to explode earlier, I take it back. Eamon’s weight on me. His hard body pressed on mine makes every bit of me pulse and throb and burn.
I pull in a deep breath as he trails his lips from between my breasts to just under my ear.
“We’re going to need a lot more than one.”
I’m not sure what time it is, but small bits of light from the sun are streaming into the room. I’m not ready for our night to be over. Neither is Eamon if I’m judging by the way his hands and lips barely leave my body.
He runs his hands through my hair as I once again nestle myself under his arm, letting my face rest on his bare chest. There are so many things I don’t want to think about right now, but still t
he questions keep flooding my brain.
“What?” Eamon asks.
“What do you mean?” I trail my finger across his chest and down his abs, wondering if we’ll have time to use up another condom before the house wakes up. But maybe just this is what I need right now--feeling his naked body against mine.
“You tensed up.” He kisses my temple. “What are you thinking about?”
I didn’t even realize I had been. “Don’t things like...like that jump yesterday for the mattress, falling out of a tree that was way too small for you to climb... Don’t things like that scare you at all, Eamon?”
I want them to. I want him to want to be safe for someone. For me. For himself.
“Nope. Only afraid of one thing…” He rolls until I’m on my back and his body is sideways, still pressed against my side.
I swallow a lump that forms in my throat at the intense way he’s looking at me. “What’s that?”
I wait for an answer, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he rests his hand between my breasts, tracing the shape of a heart on my chest where my own heart is, and I think, maybe that’s his answer. Maybe it’s love that he’s so scared of.
15
Eamon
I can sit here and watch her across the campfire all night. I can drink beer after beer. I can make jokes with the guys. I can pretend that nothing happened, and that Rachel didn’t make me feel things I never planned on feeling. I can tell myself that it was just like the time we almost did it when we were kids. That it was just to get it done, out of our systems.
Or, I could get up and do something about it.
I can jump from moving train cars.
I can take on a goddamned alligator.
But I can’t get off of my ass and walk to the other side of this fire pit and kiss her in front of these people and tell her that she scares me more than any other fucking dare or stunt.
I’m nothing but a coward.
This weekend has gone by too damn fast, and I’m not ready to give this girl up, but I’ve got to. Because I’m reckless enough with myself, I can’t be that selfish with someone I care about, too. Rach was right. A weekend to give us a taste of each other so that we’d be able to move on is all we needed. I’ve just got to figure out a way to actually do that now.
“Hey, you alright?” Rachel says. I hadn’t even seen her get up, now she’s kneeling down next to me. Her hair is pulled back away from her face, she’s wearing a sweatshirt and running shorts. She hasn’t ever been more beautiful to me then right this minute.
“I’m fine, just sorting through some stuff,” I say. I glance around the fire to see if anyone is watching us, but they’re all listening to Nelson tell some story about how he’s going to write a letter to try to get shuffleboard bowling to become an Olympic sport or some shit.
“Like…?” she purses her lips. She wants me to say it. She wants me to say I don’t know what to do about us, how I can’t make any sense of anything now that I’ve felt her in my bones.
“Like what I’m gonna do about work. The old man wants to retire, don’t know if it’s the place for me long term, though,” I say.
Rachel blows out a frustrated breath. I’m hurting her, I know it. But it’s better now than a big blow out in the long run. When I can’t keep my eyes off a pretty young waitress, or I show up late too many times and leave her stranded. I’m a selfish prick, those things will happen. Rachel’s too damn good for me, and it’s better we keep things the way we planned. One weekend. One damn good weekend that no other woman will ever be able to hold a candle to.
“Right, work. Well, Eamon, only you can decide what it is that you actually want.” She stares at me for a few beats and I hope she can see in my eyes that I’m sorry. “I’m going to get a beer.”
16
Rachel
We’ve driven in silence for most of the way. My heart feels like it’s shoved in a vice, knowing this is the last bit of Eamon and me being together the way we want to be. And it’s sort of bullshit because if he wasn’t so chicken we wouldn’t have to stop after one weekend. I open my mouth to bring it up, but I’m too scared of seeing that same petrified look on his face as he had when I told him I loved him. I’m not about to risk seeing that again.
The sun is long down when Eamon stops in my driveway. I’m too nervous to look at him as I climb out and walk to the back of the Jeep to get my stuff. Afraid he’ll look fine about saying goodbye, afraid he won’t look fine about it but will act like it. Though, it’s not really fair that the only reaction I want from him right now is for him to say he wants our weekend fun to continue because he can’t imagine not having me.
He snatches my bags before I have a chance to pick them up. “I got it. I’ll walk you in.”
“Mama’s probably asleep,” I whisper. I step up to the door and push it open, the quietness having a feeling of finality to it that I’m not ready for.
He sets my “doctor case” down first and kicks off his shoes. “This goes to your room, right?”
I search his face for a sign of anything, but he seems totally normal and relaxed. “I can get it.”
A corner of his mouth pulls up. “I know you can, Rach. But so can I.”
One thing I’ll say about Eamon is the boy’s got manners. His mama wouldn’t think twice before smacking the back of his head to make sure he did.
I slide off my shoes and tiptoe through the small living room and into my room. I’m at the opposite side of the house as Mom, which works for both of us. At least there’s a little privacy.
Eamon follows me into my room and sets my bag down. “I’m not ready for our weekend to be over.”
A surge of hope expands in my chest as I step close to him, the warmth of his body now so familiar from our weekend, wraps around me. His lips touch mine so softly that the feeling of it whispers through me instead of hitting in the hard rush that’s been part of him until now.
Our kisses are slow, deep, like we have nowhere to be but with each other. Eamon slide my shirt over my head and runs his fingertips over my shoulders, across my back, across my collarbone, before unclasping my bra and letting it fall.
He exhales and takes his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. We stare at each other in the dim light coming through my blinds. I trace patterns on Eamon’s chest until his hands cover mine, and his mouth covers mine. Still soft. Still urgent. Still melting me in a way I’ve never experienced.
He slides my panties and cut-offs down, and I do the same for him. We kiss, still standing for a moment until Eamon lies us both down.
He reaches behind him and fumbles in his shorts’ pocket before pulling out a condom and tosses it on the bed.
He pushes me gently back and starts slowly tracing every inch of me, with his hands, fingers and lips. I guess if this is the last bit of Eamon LeJeune I’ll ever get, this is worth it.
When he finally slides into me, it’s slow, deliberate. We take our time, and I start to think that maybe we can make this work. Maybe Eamon’s not ready to let go either. He tangles us together and we both drift off, me feeling more full and satisfied and in love than I’ve ever felt.
***
I pull my brows together and cringe. The light coming in through my blinds is too much. Too early. I roll over to bury my face in Eamon’s chest, but he’s gone. I slide my hands over my sheets as if he’ll suddenly appear because I want him to. But he doesn’t, and I know exactly what happened.
My heart drops out of me as tears begin to stream down my face. He’s gone. His clothes. Him.
Our weekend was just a weekend.
Just like we said it would be. Just like I promised. Just like I pathetically hoped wasn’t actually true--like one of those girls that I’ve had to help him get rid of. That clung to some false hope that Eamon never gave them that they would be the one to end up more to him than just a weekend.
I’m a moron. He stuck around last night to let me down easy. To try and take some of the sting of him not wanting to gi
ve me what we both know I want. How much more naïve and idiotic could I feel in this moment?
I knew it was just a few days. It was my own brilliant idea. Right now is when I need to take a few deep breaths and know that it was amazing, and that it’s over. Instead I roll onto my stomach and sob into the pillow, hoping it’ll muffle the sound.
***
“Running late?” Mom grins as I stumble into the living room sometime in the middle of the afternoon.
“Just Carl’s today. How’d you do when I was gone?” I blink back the rest of the haze clouding me over Eamon being gone and lack of sleep.
Mom waves dismissively. “Oh, I’m fine. You worry too much.”
I cock a brow to say, maybe.
Mama’s smile has an excited edge I haven’t seen from her in a while. “Doc Jansen asked if you’d be interested in working maybe twenty hours a week as a nurse.”
I freeze next to the kitchen counter and lean against it. “But I’m not done with school yet.”
“He knows that.” Mama shakes her head. “He’s about to retire and his regular nurse is about to have a baby... He just thought you’d like to get at least a little experience while you’re in school.”
Only I’m barely in school, and I can’t imagine even being able to afford one class this summer, but I don’t say that. “Yeah. Wow.” Once again, I’m shuffling all the things I need to do in my head. “Maybe I could quit the paper. Kelly wants to go to college in the fall, so I could maybe take over her spot at the range if Doc doesn’t need me much.” And then I wouldn’t need Carl’s anymore.
Mom wheels over and touches my arm. “Proud of you baby.”
“Yeah. Wow.” I shake my head.
I have an hour to kill before my shift at Carl’s so I head over to the shooting range to chat with Kelly. The range is just long rows of wooden tables with a roof over them and a good artificial hill to stop the bullets. Kelly’s alone here and behind some kind of crazy looking rifle suited more for the zombie apocalypse than a fifty-yard shot, but she’s totally in the zone. Orange ear muffs to deaden the sound, protective glasses, blond hair in a tight ponytail and a look of furious concentration on her small face. She’s taking shot after shot with only a second or two in between and I’m starting to wonder how many bullets the gun holds.
My Fate for Yours Page 8