My Fate for Yours

by Steph Campbell

1.....2.....3....4.....5

  I close my eyes.

  And dive to the left.

  I land hard on a pile of gravel, sticks and beer bottles--likely ones we tossed aside. I have to wait for the train to pass before I can cross the tracks back to Traive and Leslie. By the time it does, they are both running toward me.

  “Dammit, Eamon!” Leslie yells, her face furious.

  “Too close, dude! Too fucking close!” Traive says, charging me and knocking me back onto the gravel.

  “Get off me, bro,” I say as I shove him to the side.

  “You’re insane, you know that?” he says. He stands up and dusts himself off, and I do the same. “And the crazy part is, you’ll probably outlive us all.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I say.

  Traive shakes his head and tosses me another beer. “Yeah, you look like you could use it.”

  “Thanks.” I unscrew the cap and take a long drink from the bottle. I don’t think there are enough stunts or alcohol in Crawford to fully drown my sorrows in tonight. I wanted to do right by Rachel, I really did. But once again, the LeJeune curse had me fucking it all up. I knew I had it figured. I knew I was doing the right thing. I shove the cap into my pocket and feel something else inside. I pull the strip of paper out, and it’s that damn check.

  Traive walks back toward Leslie who is sitting on a blanket back away from the tracks in her usual spot. My usual spot is a little further down, just before the curve of the tracks. It’s where I sit on the tailgate of my truck and…

  The coins.

  I sip the warm beer as I walk toward the spot that Rachel and I tossed all of those coins. I need to know. I need to know if any were crushed like I feel like I’ve crushed her heart. I close my eyes tightly as I walk over to the spot where I know there has to be a week’s pay in change on the tracks. I close my eyes hoping that when I open them, that at least one coin is flat—the sign of good luck. If I can find one, I will run my ass right back to Rachel’s house to tell her how fucking wrong I was about everything.

  That I was an asshole. A coward. But I love her. My mind is spinning a hundred miles an hour, remembering every single touch, every hidden glance we gave each other, every feeling I was too scared to voice. She may not even accept my apology, but I would rather feel this ache inside of me--this bone crushing pain than feel nothing at all. I don’t give a shit if every person in town talks. I’ll prove them all wrong. I can do better. I will do better. For Rachel.

  I crack my eyes open and there are two perfectly flat coins. Side-by-side. I reach for them as everything around me fades into the background. Not important. No darkness. No light. No Traive or Leslie or anything.

  I love her. She’s right I don’t need stunts or dares. She’s the only thing I need in this life. Of course I love her. And it doesn’t feel insane or scary, it just feels right. Perfectly right. Destined.

  I rub my fingers over the cool, smooth coins. “I love you, Rachel,” I say out loud, even though there’s no one around. “I’ll love you till the day I die. I’m so damn sorry it took me so lo--”

  32

  Rachel

  “Rachel?” Mrs. LeJeune says as she pushes the flimsy screen door open. “It’s late, hon, what’s going on?”

  “I just…” I peer over her shoulder and she follows my gaze. “Is Eamon here? I knocked at his apartment but he didn’t answer.”

  “No, sugar, he hasn’t come in tonight. Do you want to come in and wait?”

  I nod and follow her to the kitchen table where she pours me a glass of sweet tea.

  “You alright, sugar? Is your mama okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mama’s doing fine. I was just needing to talk to Eamon. Is Tobin around?”

  “No, he hasn’t come in yet either. I’m sure one of them will be home soon. Have you tried calling Eamon?”

  Only a thousand times.

  “Yes, ma’am. You don’t need to wait with me, I’m happy to sit out on the porch.”

  “I’m glad to sit with you, been awhile since you’ve been around here.” She pulls her belt on her robe tighter and then takes the seat across from me at the tiny breakfast table. “You up for a game of cards?”

  I let a small smile creep across my face as she deals out the cards. I can’t count how many times I’ve sat at this table with one of the LeJeune’s. Long before I fell in love with Eamon, I fell in love with this entire family.

  “So, how’s everything been? Tobin seems to be doing better,” I say, trying to deflect the conversation from me.

  “He is,” she nods.

  “Glad he came home, we were all pretty worried about him there for a while,” I say.

  “Me too, darlin’. But you know what they say, ‘you have to live before you learn.’ I just hope this whole experience is something that Tobin can learn from, grow from. If he can do that, he’ll be okay. But what about you? What’s on your mind tonight?”

  “Me? Oh, nothing much, just wanted to check with Eamon about something,” I say. I hope my words are convincing, even if the tone is strained.

  “Mmhmm,” Mrs. LeJeune says with a knowing smile. “All the way over here to--”

  A knock at the door interrupts her. I can’t say I’m disappointed. That line of questioning was getting a little uncomfortable. I wish Eamon would get his ass home so I can apologize. He’s trying, he can’t change overnight, and I know that.

  Our eyes go to the screen door where two police officers stand, then back to each other. Mrs. LeJeune pads lightly toward the door in her white slippers. She looks calm. With boys like Tobin and Eamon, I imagine the cops have showed up on her doorstep more than once before.

  “Good evening, officers,” she says. Her words are wrapped in the tiniest hint of worry. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Can we come in, ma’am?” the older one asks. It’s Hank Carlson. He lives right down the street from me and Mom.

  “Hey, Hank,” I say.

  He tips his head as he pulls his hat off. When he does, I catch sight of the other officer still outside, helping a slouched over Tobin off of the steps. Tobin’s jeans are covered in dirt and he’s clutching his stomach. At first I think he’s probably just drunk and the cops had to bring him home, but his face is contorted in a painful grimace I’ve never seen. Anguish. That’s the only word that I can think when I look at him.

  Mrs. LeJeune sees him at the same time.

  “Tobin?” she says. Her voice is so uneasy, it makes my stomach ache. I know she loves her boys something fierce, and if she’s nervous, something is definitely wrong.

  Tobin pushes through the screen door and his face is pale. There are deep circles under his eyes.

  “Mama, I’m sorry,” he says. Then his jaw goes slack and he slumps back down to the floor.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, looking at Hank my heart kicking up a few more notches.

  “Mrs. LeJeune, you should sit down,” Hank says to her. She swats his hand away and instead, crouches down near Tobin who is burying his face in his hands. I think he might be crying by the way his shoulders are heaving up and down, but there isn’t any noise coming from him. Maybe that’s worse than wailing, though. Losing Delia gutted him, but this, this is something much worse.

  “Tobin, look at me,” she says. Her voice is more stern, fearfully demanding. Hank crosses the room and touches her shoulder.

  “I really think you should sit down,” he says.

  Then it hits me.

  “Where’s Eamon?” I ask, only my voice is shaking so hard I barely recognize it as my own.

  “Mrs. LeJeune, would you like me to ask all non-family to leave?” the younger cop I don’t recognize asks while staring at me.

  Fury ignites in me. “Like hell--”

  “She can stay. Where is Eamon?” she asks the same question.

  “Ma’am, there was an accident,” Hank says. “I don’t… I don’t know how to tell you this…”

  I don’t know what he says after that bec
ause my hands instinctively go to my ears. I cover them and press with all my strength. I don’t want to hear it. The sight of it is bad enough. I know I can’t handle the actual words. This is one of those times that Eamon and I talked about out at the lake. One that’s so bad, it just can’t be real. I don’t want to feel this. I can’t. I’m not brave like Eamon said. I’m weak. I’m crumbling. Mrs. LeJeune is shaking her head back and forth, her hand covering her mouth. No.

  NO.

  “No!” I yell. My outburst should stun everyone, but it doesn’t. No one flinches. No one can feel. We’re all living in this slow-motion, warped reality. This isn’t real.

  I let my hands drop a little and regret it immediately because Tobin starts to talk, and I don’t want to hear his voice that way. So crackly and unrecognizable.

  “He didn’t move out of the way of the train, Ma. Why didn’t he move out of the way?” Tobin says.

  “The medics did everything they could,” Hank says. “And he didn’t suffer. I can promise you that.”

  “The train?” My vision blurs. I can’t calm my short, rapid breaths. He was out at the tracks. He was upset because of me. Suffer? He did suffer. He was hurting. Because of me. I told him to leave. I can’t swallow the soreness in my throat. It’s too much.

  “I need to go,” I say, my chin trembling. No one looks up.

  I grab my purse off of the chair and start for the door.

  “Rach?” Tobin says. “Do you need me to take you home?”

  I shake my head quickly and hold my breath.

  I let the door close quietly behind me and then sprint for the gravel road.

  My lungs are burning, begging me to exhale. But now that Eamon has stopped breathing, I want to, too. I don’t want to take my next breath. I just want him to be here. I want to pound on his chest and tell him to run. I want to scream in his face and beg him to stay with me. I want to watch his lips crook up into a devilish smile while I yell because he loves it when I’m angry.

  I want to get out my stupid first aid kit and stitch him back together again. Whole and perfect and willing to love me.

  Instead, I’m just here. Alone.

  Eamon taught me everything I ever needed to know about fate. And in some twisted way, my mom was right--he was my destiny. I just didn’t know that our destiny would be so painfully short.

  Eamon sealed my fate today, and I’ll never be the same.

  What we had was meant to be a secret, and I’ll keep it so. It’s what he wanted, right? No one will ever know the depth of my relationship with him. It’ll be my pain to bear alone.

  After all of his stunts, all of his jumps and dares, the most reckless thing Eamon LeJeune ever did was make me fall in love with him, and then leave me here without him and I’ll forever have the love of a ghost echoing in my heart.

  I slow my run and finally release my breath. I stumble along as I fish around in my purse for my phone, scroll until I find the right number, and press dial.

  I close my eyes. It’s a time when I should be replaying every second I spent with Eamon. I should be wondering what his last moments looked like. I should be trying to work out how in the world this could have happened. Instead, I’m trying to figure out how I’ll keep this secret. This thing that he didn’t want anyone to know about--me.

  Instead of sobbing in my friends’ arms, I’ll be saying stupid crap to the people around me. Things that won’t let on how I feel or how I felt about Eamon. How shredded every part of me is. This thing that only we knew, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell people something he never wanted out. I’ll make Tobin’s pity party over losing Delia look pathetic with the amount of drinking I’ll wind up doing. And all the while I have to pretend it was just a fling. That Eamon didn’t mean more to me than any other person on earth. This is the ultimate stunt. The ultimate dare.

  And I’ve never been more afraid.

  I’ll go to the right parties, and try to act like my life didn’t end with his.

  Because I’m still standing here. This is my fate. His death hasn’t killed me yet, but I wonder how many times I’ll wish it would.

  The ringing stops and Delia’s soft voice is on the other end of the phone. “Hello?”

  “Delia? It’s Rachel. You need to come home.”

  Acknowledgments

  Steph - My Heart for Yours was such a labor of love, but also, such a quiet book that I think Jo and I were honestly surprised when it resonated with so many people. When more people at signings would turn up with dog-eared copies of MHfY than any other book of mine, I realized just how many people had fallen in love with the characters Jo and I created in Crawford, Louisiana. So, to you, the readers, I give the most heartfelt thanks.

  Jolene - First off - Steph Campbell - I love that you wanted to write this story. LOVE. I was terrified to do it, and I was right to be terrified, but more than that, I love Eamon and that his story has made it into the world.

  Because this story was hard to write, I have to thank my family for putting up with me pushing hard for time to write.

  And to all of you readers who took the time to ask us about the other people in Tobin and Delia’s story (My Heart for Yours) we would not have continued this series without your enthusiasm for Crawford and the people who live there. Really, truly, honestly, thank you.

  About the Authors

  Steph Campbell grew up in Southern California, but now calls Southwest Louisiana home. She has one husband, four children and a serious nail polish obsession.

  You can find her on her blog: stephcampbell.blogspot.com

  facebook.com/stephcampbellauthor, Twitter: @stephcampbell_

  or email: steph.campbell725@gmail.com

  Other titles by Steph:

  Delicate, Grounding Quinn, Beautiful Things Never Last

  with Liz Reinhardt:

  Lengths, Depths, Limits, Ties, A Toast to the Good Times

  with Jolene Perry:

  My Fate for Yours, My Heart for Yours, My Love for Yours (coming soon)

  ***

  Jolene wears juvenile T-shirts, worn-out Chucks, and eats too much chocolate. Her degree in political science and French somehow led her to be a middle school math teacher. Now she writes. A lot. She makes up words, drinks Shirley Temples, and suffocates a little without her iPod.

  She’s a lover of words, stories, smart girls, sweet boys, growing up, falling in love, and all the stuff that happens in between.

  You can find her on her website at www.jolenebperry.com or her blog at www.jolenesbeenwriting.blogspot.com or on twitter @jolenebperry and yes, tumblr under the name writershoes ;-)

  Other titles by Jolene:

  YA titles: Night Sky, Knee Deep, Spill Over, the Shadows Trilogy,

  With Nyrae Dawn:

  Dizzy, Out of Play

  Coming Soon:

  Look for The Summer I Found You (coming March 2014)

  And The Happiness of Joy (coming Fall 2014)

  NA titles: Falling

  with Steph Campbell:

  My Heart for Yours, My Fate for Yours, My Love for Yours (coming soon)

  with Janna Watts:

  3 Sides to a Circle, 10 Weeks

  Jolene also writes New Adult fiction under the name Mia Josephs:

  After All

  Coming Soon:

  With Everything I Have,

  Solo, Duet, Chorus

  The story continues in MY HEART FOR YOURS

  (Available now)

  1

  Tobin

  “Tobin, how are you feeling son?” I flinch as Pastor Brett claps me on the back.

  I force a small smile and a nod. I can’t manage much else.

  Numb.

  Well, numb alternating with feeling like my insides are being shredded. But who wants to hear that? No one. Not even Pastor Brett. People don’t want the truth when they ask how you’re doing after you lost your brother.

  Shit.

  How do you lose your brother? You lose your grandfather, your distant uncl
e, your dog for Christ’s sake. Not your brother. Especially brothers like mine.

  I want to hate him for what he did. Leaving us. It’s not right. He’s gone and I’m stuck here in this fucking funeral home, staring at his casket. There’s no way out. Not for me, and certainly not for him. The casket is closed. Bolted shut for eternity. No one forced him to be a Jackass wannabe, though.

  I try to avoid eye contact as I make my way through the foyer. Most of these people are strangers, but I know that they know who I am.

  When I pass the casket display room, I fight the small twitch of an inappropriate smile. Eamon once hooked up with a girl in there. Classy, right? That was Eamon, though. He could score anywhere and anytime. He was wild, for sure. He’d stay at Carl’s playing pool all night and somehow, make it in to work every morning at the oil refinery by five AM, without fail. Never late. Never sick. Work hard and play hard was his motto.

  We had some crazy times, he and I, but it wasn’t all like that. He taught me how to fish when I was a kid at Coulee de Salle. It became our meeting place when shit hit the fan when we got older. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to go back there. He taught me about women. Well, he’d like to think he did at least. I figured out a few things on my own. He taught me to fight, to defend myself, to stand up for what I believe in, and protect the people that I love. I thanked him for that lesson after that weekend in New Orleans when some guy put his hands on Delia and I had to tear him apart.

  He slipped me my first beer and always covered for me when I’d had one too many, or when I’d snuck out to meet up with Delia at the boat launch. Shit, I’d gotten to a point where I’d managed to stop thinking about her every day. I wish she’d stop invading my thoughts right now. I can’t handle that on top of everything else.

  Eamon had a completely different side to him too. He showed up for church every Sunday morning, ate supper with us every night and would protect my Mama to the death. It’s just that he had that other motto. “I’m not getting old!” he’d say and I’d always laugh it off. He was my older brother. Untouchable. I never imagined he actually meant it.

  I swear I passed a small kitchen or something earlier. I’m not hungry, but hopefully I’ll find some peace and quiet. It takes an immeasurable amount of effort to make it down the dark hallway. I run my fingers along the thick, fabric wallpaper to steady myself. Putting one foot in front of another feels like learning to walk all over again. My body’s still working. Heart’s still beating. Lungs still moving. But not because I want them to. They do those things on their own, without me even asking. So why didn’t they do it for Eamon? How could his body just give up on him like that? Fall apart. It made him seem so fragile, and I don’t want to remember him that way. He was the strongest guy I knew. How could he break so easily? It seems like our bodies would be built better. It just doesn’t fucking seem real.