Coincidentally Kismet

Prologue

PROLOGUE

CAM

“Tin Man” - Miranda Lambert

5 YEARS AGO

“ M om, hurry up. He’s going to be here any minute. I need tissue paper.” My mom is moving at a perfectly acceptable pace for a snail when what I need her to be is an energizer bunny.

“Relax, Cameron. That boy would wait forever for you, ya know.” Mom clatters around, opening and closing doors in what I hope is an attempt to find the paper I desperately need to wrap this gift.

I’m bursting with excitement to give it to Will. It’s not long until we head out to Iowa State, and obviously we need matching hoodies to cement the occasion. Just three short weeks to go, weeks that are seeming to drag on while I finish up my duties on the farm. I can already hear the faint whispers of freedom ringing in my ears. Freedom from the dreaded five in the morning wake-up calls, courtesy of my dad, and from the passive-aggressive way my mother’s hand carefully places a quarter on the table beside my plate when she’s noticed I’ve had more than what a “lady” should eat. She thinks it’s a silent reminder, but everyone knows it’s her way of shaming me. I can’t fucking wait to be free from all of it.

My parents are great, but they’re also a lot . They have opinions on their opinions, and it’s best not to challenge them. Hence why I silently set my fork down and rub the quarter between my thumb and forefinger each time it’s placed gingerly beside me. I know it’s a reminder born out of love for me and my well-being, but it’s hurtful nonetheless. The first thing I plan to do at college is wolf down a cheeseburger without a quarter in sight.

A knock rattles the rickety front screen door as I yell once more, “Moooom!” She shuffles into the room before I can get any more words out, carefully stuffing white tissue paper into the bag and shooing me down the steps in her motherly way. There may be a hint of an eye roll tossed my direction, but I’m moving too quickly to care.

Will waits patiently at the bottom of the stairs in the entryway, soaking in every inch of me as I make my way down. His cerulean-blue eyes like beautiful pools just waiting to drag me in, that curly mop of hair a bit messy as it pokes out from under his usual baseball cap. My heart thumps a little harder each time I see him. It’s not smart, by all standards, to be this gone for someone at age eighteen, but I can’t help it. He’s everything to me—my heart walking around outside of my body. He’s the only person besides my brother who I’ve ever felt truly gets me.

“Hey, ready to go?” A tremble to his voice that’s a touch out of place gives me pause.

“Yep, everything okay?” I ask, running my hand up and down his exposed arm, nudging my fingertips under the edge of his short sleeve as I search his eyes for an answer.

“Yeah. Let’s get going.” Short, a bit curt, but not completely out of the ordinary for him. Maybe something happened with his dad again. That has to be it , I think. Everything was perfect when we talked a few hours ago.

We make our way to his busted-up brown Chevy; I climb in when he opens the door. Scooting to my designated spot in the middle, I position one leg on either side of the gear shift and sling his gift onto the seat beside me.

Will jumps in, throws the truck in drive after turning the ignition, and barrels down my long gravel drive. There’s no chatting, no sneaking hello kisses now that we are out of parental-viewing range; he doesn’t even graze my leg as he reaches over to shift. Something is absolutely wrong, there isn’t an eighteen-year-old boy alive who isn’t ready and willing to palm their girlfriend or boyfriend’s thigh while driving down the road.

“Hey, can you pull over?” The words tumble out before I can slow myself down and take a second to not overthink. I hate fighting with him, or really anyone, but I need to know right this second what’s going on.

“Cam, really? You can’t wait until we get to the lake?” Will’s tone is terse, annoyance dangling off of each word.

“Nope. Especially not now.” I cross my arms on a huff. This is supposed to be a fun date. It’ll be easier to get whatever could be bothering him out of the way quickly.

The truck slows, shifting slightly into a ditch, far enough off the road to not get hit if someone’s coming down at a good pace, but still on the shoulder. Will slams it in park as I reach for the buckle on my seat belt, hands shaking as if they know before I do what’s about to happen.

“What’s the matter? I can tell something’s wrong. Is it your dad? I swear, if that man was an asshole again, I might lose my mind. Or is it Amy? Did something happen to Amy? Oh God.” Rambling is one of my many tells on just how much I overthink. Spewing ideas helps ease my anxiety.

“It’s not any of that. Look, can we just have a fun night? I don’t want to talk about it.” His eyes plead with me to let it go, but my heart is like a dog with a bone. I have to know what’s going on, or I won’t be able to have even an okay time.

“No. You know I can’t do that. Just tell me, clearly something happened.” Exasperation and desperation lace my voice in equal measure. Please put me out of my misery here , I silently plead.

“Fine! All I wanted was one more good night. One night to hold you, to kiss you, to just...be with you,” Will shouts, covering his face with his hands while rocking toward the steering wheel. All I can hear on an endless loop is “one more good night.” My brain is swirling with questions, fears, and denial—mostly denial.

“What do you mean? You aren’t being specific. Why one more night? We are going to have all the nights at college. Fun trips to new bars, you’re going to invite me to your frat house, and I’ll sneak you into my sorority after-hours. There is so much fun in your future, it’s honestly unfair to most.” I’m being naive at best and a bit dense at worst. My stomach and my heart know what’s coming but I refuse to believe it.

“I-I can’t . . .” Tears pool in his eyes, threatening to fall. He bristles, wiping them away as if he refuses to let them take control. “I can’t do this. I’m not going to college with you.”

Seconds pass as I process my disbelief. We had a plan. I always have a plan, and this is not it. I can’t fathom what he means. Did he decide to go somewhere else? Is he not going at all?

A single tear streams down my cheek as I ask, “What does that mean? Where are you going?”

“I joined the Air Force; I leave next week.” Nine words. Ones that I know instantly will play on repeat for the rest of my life. Acid creeps up my throat as my stomach riots, and my heart feels like it is being ripped from my chest.

“W-why? We had a plan...I mean, we can make it work, but I need to understand. Make me understand because it doesn’t add up, you’ve never even mentioned the military before. Do you not like the school? We can go somewhere else, but we both got into ISU. We could defer if you need more time.” I’m rambling again.

Will grabs my hands in his, the first real touch he’s offered since he picked me up. It should be comforting, but instead I feel the loss of him in a visceral way. Almost like he isn’t touching me at all, even though there’s barely an inch between us. “Cam, I-I don’t have money for college. You of all people know how hard money is. I have to do something that doesn’t strap me or my parents with mountains of debt. I also . . .” Will places his hands over his face again, like he doesn’t want to watch my reaction to whatever’s coming next. “I want to serve my country. I’m being called to serve, it’s what I was made to do.”

An anvil slams into my chest. How can he feel “called” to risk his life? Am I not worth staying for, not worth being kept safe? It’s unfathomable to me that anyone is “called” to do anything. We make choices about what’s best for our lives, it isn’t fate or divine intervention telling us which path to choose.

“What does this mean? For us...I mean.” I shift slightly, afraid to make eye contact, to see what waits for me there.

“It means. . .” A sob rips from his throat, echoing in the small cab of his truck. “We’re done. I-I can’t do this with you anymore.”

My initial instinct is to go on the defensive. “No. No, no, no. We are not done. We are not done until we are old and gray in our beds dying together at ninety years old. I refuse.” My tear ducts protest, not allowing me to shed one more drop. A refusal from my heart to believe that this is ending.

“I-I don’t love you. It’s time you see that, time to move on.” The statement lacks conviction, but there’s determination in his eyes. They aren’t shining and bright anymore but rather dark, stormy pools that indicate this argument won’t end in my favor. Heat seeps through my body as my skin turns clammy. I am going to vomit.

I throw myself away from him, lunging toward the passenger door and desperately pulling at the handle to escape the shrinking space before I lose my lunch or my sanity. I make it down into the grass before I hurl all the contents from my stomach. Tears flow freely now, as if I needed to shed my insides before the rest of me could unravel. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I turn to see him staring out the window, stone-faced.

“I loved you! I planned my whole life around you, and you’re just throwing it away? Did I ever mean anything to you? Did you think of anyone but yourself when you planned to betray everything we’ve worked for, every plan we built? Actually, you know what—don’t answer that. Fuck you, Will Davenport. Don’t ever contact me again.” I shout every venomous thought I can at him. After all, I am the one who now has to start over; he has everything planned out.

Torn between wanting to fight, to scream, to claw my way into his heart and never let go, and at the same time wanting to run. I look at him one last time, tears flooding both our faces. I can’t believe this is happening, can’t process the betrayal. Because that’s what this is, a complete destruction of every time I’ve held him while he choked back sobs over his dad abandoning him, every time he reassured me that I was enough despite never measuring up to my parents’ standards. We found each other when we were broken, we healed together, and this...this is shredding me far more than I ever was ripped apart to begin with.

Knowing there’s no changing his mind, I run. Back toward my childhood home and away from the love of my life. Each crunch of gravel beneath my feet congruent with the shattering of my heart. I vow to myself to move on but to never forget.