My Heart for Yours (4 page)

Shit, what am I doing?

“
Delia,” I call as she climbs into the car. I’m not sure what happened to being angry. I’m not sure if it’s the fragile was she looks, or her tiny hands, or just her, but I can’t let her just get in and drive away.

Her head pops up over the roof of the vehicle. It reminds me of a damn meerkat from one of those nature shows. Everything about this girl still gets to me. That alone should keep my anger at her rolling because that would probably beat the shit out of what I’m feeling right now. Losing Eamon shredded me, but seeing Delia again has added weight. Weight I really need to let go.

“
If you want, we could go and grab some coffee or something. I can drive you home later,” I say.

She reaches up and pulls on the tips of her bangs like she always does when she is nervously contemplating something before peeking inside the car to talk to her mom.

She leans back out, pulls the pins from her hair and lets it drop. God, I loved that hair. I remember how many nights she’d snuck out to spend with me. How many times I fell asleep next to her, burying my face in that hair, tangling my fingers in the loose waves.

She shouldn’t be affecting me like this. Not after all we’ve been through. Not after all she did.

I stand in the parking lot staring at my feet, wondering if my brother is screaming at me to stay away again from wherever he is when she rounds the side of the car and her mouth pulls into a soft smile.

Four

Delia

One year ago I wouldn’t have been able to manage a flat sidewalk in these shoes. Not anymore. Even the gravel doesn’t slow me down, but I do worry what it’ll do to the leather. I can’t believe Mom didn’t give me any more than a wave when I asked if I could go with Tobin. He’s not exactly high on her list, or maybe she has more going on than I think she does. Or maybe she doesn’t hate Tobin the same way that Dad does.

Tobin and I walk in slow silence to his car. Why am I doing this? Why did he ask? Why did I say yes? I’d decided when I left that it would be better if he hated me, easier for both of us.

Going somewhere with Tobin does not work with that plan. At all. As usual, I’m weak and can’t follow through.

I catch his eyes again, and it’s like the first night I really noticed him, only there’s so much between us now that it’s way scarier to let him look in my eyes. Will he see what a complete fake I’ve become? Will he suddenly know I lied to protect him, so he’d be angry instead of hurt?

The night he first actually noticed me, we were at Nelson’s bonfire party—one of many. I wasn’t quite a junior, and he was going to be a senior that year. Tobin was with…I don’t remember. Some girl with huge boobs, which is probably why he was there with her. Every girl knew who the LeJeune boys were. Every girl also knew to stay away from them. Except for the line of girls waiting for their turn. And the LeJeune boys were ready to give them all a turn. Eamon especially.

I watched Tobin all night. I know he watched me, but I was careful. I didn’t really think anything would actually happen between us. It’s hard to wrap my mind around how wrong I was.

He opens the door of the same old Ford pick-up truck that he was always working on and perfecting.

“
She looks good.” I touch the door before climbing in.

“
Uh…thanks.” He rubs a hand over his blond hair, leaving it ruffed up in all the right places.

This is so awkward. His eyes are the same. His voice is the same. It’s the sameness, and the newness and the differences and all the stuff between us—the good, the bad, the horrible and the selfish. The last two were mostly me. Then came the anger part—that was mostly him. And now? Now I’m just a girl here probably messing with his head in a way he doesn’t deserve. The thing is that I don’t even know what I want from him. Is there any chance of us even being friends?

Being away from home allowed me to not think about Tobin. About how in the end it was almost like we tried to destroy each other. It still amazes me late at night when I let myself think about it. Like grandma said all the time—
you make love with the same passion that you make war
—or something like that. At any rate, that was definitely true for Tobin and me.

Every building in this town looks like the trees want to swallow them up. There’s a tint of rust on everything metal, and it’s all smaller and more worn than I remember. Even though it’s dark out, we don’t pass a single vehicle where the driver doesn’t pause to wave. And because it’s just what you do here, we both give a small wave back without even thinking about it. The truck bumps along on the beat up road. The roots from the magnolia trees that have been here since the beginning of time have waged a war with the asphalt of the road and left it full of craters and lumps. No pretenses here. What you see is what you get. That’s one part of Crawford I’ve really missed.

Crawford passes by fast, even though Tobin’s driving slow. His thumb taps the steering wheel to the local station quietly playing in the background. I glance around at the vinyl interior. There are too many memories in this truck.

***

I lay cradled in Tobin’s arms as he leaned his back against the driver’s side door.

“
What do we do?” I asked still in shock. My heart pounded so hard. Dad had gotten his senate seat after another Louisiana Senator stepped down. Odd circumstances, but it didn’t make my dad any less proud to be there. He was winning the Senate race at the time anyway. All I could think about is how the senate seat he just got ran out in two years, and Dad would be back on the campaign trail rampage.

“
We’ll be okay, Delia.” Tobin’s voice didn’t have the certainty I wanted, but his hands didn’t stop touching me, trying to calm me down.

I pulled his arms more tightly around my waist. “I can’t believe I’m moving.”

“
I know.” He kissed my head, but didn’t say more. Didn’t tell me how we were going to make it better. I started to panic, but breathed in the familiar smell of Tobin and the old truck and relaxed again.

Tobin had never let me down before. I knew he’d take care of everything. I didn’t know that night was only the beginning of the mess that would tear us apart.

***

Tobin sighs next to me, breaking the memory.

“
Sorry,” I whisper. “Been a while since I’ve been home.”

“
Is this home?” There’s almost a hard edge to his voice, but he might just be tired.

Or he might hate me.

I don’t know. I don’t know where home is. Right now I want home to be in this truck a year and a half ago, but is that just because I’m here? I wipe the tears from my eyes and re-cross my legs.

Tobin’s eyes glance down, just briefly, and I can’t help but feel good that he still sees me. Notices me. Which, really, shouldn’t matter. I don’t need him to notice me. Shouldn’t want it.

“
This is still home.”

“
You’re staying at the house, right?” he asks.

“
Where else would we be?” His question doesn’t make sense.

“
Well, I figured I would have heard if you sold it, but since none of you have been back for so long…” he trails off, and all I can think is how I love his voice. Tobin’s always had the best kind of southern accent—the kind that makes everything sound smooth, sexy.

“
Busy. Dad’s always busy. Mom’s busy. I’m—”

“
Busy?” he tries to do a Tobin thing and pull up a brow, but there’s too much grief on his face for me to buy it.

“
Yeah.” Busy. I’m insane busy. Showing up at the right places at the right time and planning senior picnics and helping Mom with charity fundraisers, and appearances with Dad, well, and with Weston. His dad’s a long-time senator from Tennessee, so Weston has the routine down. I’m starting to have the routine down. All of the crap I’m involved in now wouldn’t matter to Tobin at all. He hated the very few political dinners I dragged him to.

“
Seeing anyone?” He stares at the road, and his hands tighten.

I nearly answer,
Weston. I’m seeing Weston. I love him. He loves me. We’re a good match. He was good to me when I was new. He knows the game with our parents, and helped me learn to play it.
But I can’t say any of those things. Instead I open my mouth, not sure what should come out.

“
You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “Never thought I’d be sharing this truck with you again, Delia.”

For a second, I wonder if that means he’s shared the truck with some other girl since I left, but just hearing my name from his lips makes me swoon a little. I have got to get my head back together. I’m a mess. And it’s still so weird seeing Tobin not only dressed in a suit, but to see him without his brother. “Yeah.”

He pulls into the parking lot of the diner and climbs out.

Guess we’re going to do this in front of strangers. Whatever
this
is. At least he’s not yelling at me. I don’t think I could take that. I want to ask him about the times that he called me after I moved. The times that he didn’t say anything, just sat on the phone in silence. But I guess it doesn’t matter what he was calling for. Even though the caller ID showed the number as Private, I knew it was him. I could tell just by the sound of his breathing, which was familiar after all of the times we stayed on the phone in silence, not knowing what to say, but neither one of us willing to hang up, leading up to the day I left.

The familiar smell of burgers and pie surrounds me as Tobin holds open the door. The large L-shaped diner looks the same. Same dark, cracked vinyl on the booths. Same stools at the long counter. This place reeks of my childhood. I remember coming here for lunch after church every Sunday. Now we have a chef to do all of our cooking for us. That is, on the nights when we’re actually home.

“
DEAL-YUH GIN-TREE!” Missy pulls me into a hug that shoves her enormous boobs in my face as she laughs and squeezes me a few times. “Lord, girl, I wasn’t sure if we’d EVER see you again!!”

Right. We’re in Crawford. Thinking I’d get to talk to Tobin in front of
strangers
was a ridiculous thought.

I pull back to see her bleach blonde hair high on her head, pen behind her ear, and gum smacking in her mouth—she couldn’t fit the stereotype of a half-manager/waitress if she tried. She even has the uniform—red with a white apron and collar.

“
Hey, Missy.” I push my hair back off my face, and it’s the first time that I’ve seen Tobin smile—at my expense no less. Missy is the beginning and end of most of the gossip that circulates through Crawford, and is always inappropriately affectionate.

“
And you.” Missy frowns, and Tobin stiffens.

I’m sure she’s about to say something that’ll just make him feel awful. Or maybe just give the guy more sympathy than he’d want right now.

“
We’re starving.” I drag him to a table before Missy can go further, but once we’re there, I realize I’m holding Tobin’s arm. I’d wanted to touch him earlier, but now that I am, I remember I don’t get to touch Tobin anymore, and probably shouldn’t want it.

“
Sorry.” I let go and step back, heart pounding, and still having no idea how I feel about being here, or if I should be.