MY FATE FOR YOURS

Chapter 4- RACHEL

Rachel

 Eamon’s lips slide across mine in the practiced way that only someone with as much experience as Eamon could do. The alcohol smoothes out my body in waves as his kiss rolls through me, making me stumble against him. Eamon catches me easily as I find my feet.

And then I pull back and laugh because I’m so damn nervous. “Nice try, Eamon. You’re drunker than I thought.”

He blinks a few times at the new space between us and rubs his hands over his face. “Yeah. Guess so.”

I glance around at the bar he’s cleaned up for me and now a wash of gratitude hits me. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“Yeah.” He still seems dazed, his eyes sort of unfocused, and it’s more than just the drinks.

“I’m gonna sleep in the apartment out back. And from the looks of it, you’re not safe to drive. Wanna crash here tonight?” I offer at the same time I realize that now that his lips have touched mine, it’s probably not the best idea.

Eamon takes a step toward me and sways just slightly.

“Come on. I’ll get some ice for your hand.”

He nods as I take his good hand and follows me behind the bar where I set him up with a bag of ice. Neither of us speaks as we make our way to the tiny apartment Carl keeps empty. I send Mom a quick text so she won’t worry, and set my alarm for four hours from now. It’s never quite enough, but it’s what it has to be.

In minutes we’re sharing the bed like we’ve done what feels like a hundred times before when we couldn’t get home.

Only this time I watch Eamon as he falls asleep, finally looking peaceful, less stressed. More like himself. I don’t realize how much the worry has kept me tense until my shoulders relax at the sight of Eamon asleep. The first thing I’m going to do the next time I see Tobin is punch him in the nose for making his brother worry like this.

***

I start to roll over just as my phone buzzes telling me my nap’s over. I’ve got to get to my other job doing filing at the newspaper, and make sure I’ve got my school stuff together for my lone nursing class. I could only afford one this semester. Well, and that’s all I had time for. At this rate, I won’t get my certification until I’m forty.

I’ll hopefully make it home for another nap before my shift at Carl’s tonight. Either that or I’m going to be dropping a lot of money with Missy at the diner to keep me caffeinated today.

As I start to slide off the bed, Eamon’s arm pulls me more tightly toward him. My first instinct is to move away, but when the thought slowly clicks together, and I realize that I’ve just slept in Eamon’s arms. We may have shared a bed, but this is new. He’s never held me like this before. I don’t want to move. Ever.

I roll toward him and rest my head on his chest. His sturdy arms tighten as he sighs into my hair. Still asleep, or right on the edges.

Eamon is a very dangerous thing for me to want. Even when I will myself not to, jealousy still slides in my chest like a razor when I see him with someone else. I know they won’t last. They never do. And I’d rather have whatever it is we have now than nothing--or another round of pure awkwardness like after my idiotic confession to him months ago.

“I gotta go,” I whisper quietly enough that I hope he doesn’t hear. It’s just nice to pretend he really wanted to be with me last night and hold me the way he did. To think about him not wanting to be away from me for the day. “See you soon.”

I lean in and brush my lips against his stubbly cheek, which brings a huge smile to my face. I remember when he first started growing facial hair, and he wouldn’t shave for weeks, just to try and give me burns on my cheeks or arms as he held me down. I’d laugh so hard I never could fight him off.

Now it’s me who lets out a sigh because I will forever be ‘little sister, Rachel.’

***

“Hey, Mama.” I lean against the door of our tiny home, using every ounce of strength to stand. When I was finishing at the newspaper, Kelly’s dad called to see if I wanted to pick up some cash and help out at his shooting range, so that sucked up my free time after class. I’m barely vertical I’m so tired.

“Hey, baby girl.” Mom slides her wheelchair from our low-countered kitchen—courtesy of the LeJeune boys’ handiwork, and into the small living room. Just a TV, a couch, and she’s pretty much stuck in her chair.

“How are you today?” I ask.

“I’m good.” Mom sighs. “I hate asking you to do this, but we need to do a once-over on Arnaud’s house again.”

I grit my teeth. “Why doesn’t Ardaud or his butler’s butler’s butler do anything with his own mother’s house, Mom? I don’t get it.” And it pisses me off because honestly, if he’s never going to use it, and we have to take care of it, I don’t see why we can’t live in that nice place instead of our miniature dump. And we’d be house payment free, which means the settlement money would last a whole lot longer. I’m glad I don’t know him, because I’d probably have a lot of colorful things to say.

Mama smiles a sad sort of smile, and I bite my tongue, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. It’s her friend’s son we watch the house for. Mama’s friend, Beth, died in the car accident that put Ma in a wheelchair. I have vague memories of meeting him as a kid, but Mom and his mama, Beth, were friends since high school.

“His father, I’d imagine. He’s a good man, just…distracted.” Mom wheels back a few feet and adjusts her chair in front of the TV. “As he always was. And even more when he dragged her from her hometown.”

I want to say something else or ask why the house can’t just be sold, or why this guy can’t bother to come down to at least see the house his mom left him. It’s just…weird. I can’t imagine having an extra house.

“I’m gonna crash for an hour before—”

“Eamon took your shift at Carl’s.” She tucks a chunk of short, brown hair behind her ear as she starts flipping channels. In the winter she’s outside every day reading every book under the sun, and in the summer, when the heat and humidity are too much for her, she catches up on movies. That’s how it’s been in the seven years since her accident.

“I’m sorry…what?” None of this makes sense. “Eamon doesn’t work at Carl’s.”

“Well, he does tonight. Said he was worried about your sleep.” Mama gives me a half smile that’s an equal mix of slyness in her thinking Eamon’s gesture means something it doesn’t, and also a bit of sadness because we both know how I feel about him, and how he doesn’t feel about me. Still, in Mom’s eyes, he’ll come around eventually, but that’s only because I’m her girl and she can’t imagine otherwise. She’s told me that since I was a kid. That I was destined to be with Eamon LeJeune. I don’t know much about destiny, but I do know the logical side of me doesn’t see Eamon and me together in my future. But the fairytale side still does.

I blink a few times. “I know I should argue and go to work, but I’m too damn tired.”

Mom frowns. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I—”

“Hey. Not your fault. We’ll be okay.” But mostly because I can’t think about what’ll happen if we aren’t.