Falling for Autumn Again (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice #2)

Prologue

Autumn

Tomorrow .

Tomorrow will be here in less than one hour.

I snuggle next to Ezra’s side, not caring that hay from the loft of the Linus’s barn pokes me in the side. I can’t care. Not with Ezra right next to me.

I peer up at him, his brown hair mussed from all of the times I ran my fingers through it tonight.

“You look good in a cap and gown, Green,” he says to me.

“I looked like everyone else.”

“Not true,” he says, holding me a little tighter. Ezra has been holding me since junior year. But I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of it.

I’m not na?ve. I know we’re young—and I know people talk about how young we are. But tomorrow Ezra and I leave for New York, leaving all those gossipy geese behind us. It won’t matter what anyone in Love says. We’re all that matters.

His dreams and mine.

I’ll be a world-class chef and Ezra will be the best architect known to man.

But first—college .

“I should get you home,” he says, though he makes no motion to leave my side.

I tighten my leg wrapped around his, locking myself around him. This move always gives me a few more minutes of his time.

“No,” I whine. My parents have no idea I’ve gone out tonight. There’s no reason to rush. And knowing what Ezra has to go home to… I’d much rather stay right here.

But he only has one more night in that house. One more night with Mav, who couldn’t even sober up enough to make it to our graduation. One more night, and then we’re starting fresh. College, New York, and every dream we’ve ever dreamed! Just the two of us.

“If your dad finds out I’ve got you alone in a barn—he’ll never let me take you to New York.”

“Ez—you are taking me to New York. I’m pretty sure the Linus’s loft is the least of his worries.”

Besides, Dad likes Ezra. He always says, “ That kid is a miracle. No mother and a no-good father.”

“But that’s for school,” he says—still on his Ed-Green-is-going-to-suddenly-disapprove-of-me kick. “I don’t want him to ever have a reason not to trust me. No dad will complain about college.”

Except that Ezra’s dad had complained a lot. It turns out that when you’re home tipsy the majority of the day, a teenage boy comes in handy. They’re good for cleaning, working, making dinner, and any other pesky task that needs doing.

But Ezra will be free of him soon enough.

When I give him an unconvinced glare, a low laugh falls from his lips.

“I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to be on Ed’s bad side. In four years you’ll be a chef and I’ll be a year away from my degree. I don’t plan to wait around. I’m asking for your hand. That’s plenty of waiting as far as I’m concerned. And I’d like your dad to still like me. ”

I sit up, hay in my hair and dizzy with the quick motion. "Fine." I moan. It’s not the first time we’ve talked about marriage but it still makes my head spin. "I guess we should get a little sleep. We have a long drive." A two-day drive. We'll stop halfway and stay with Ezra's aunt Marilynn.

“That’s my girl.”

I shove his shoulder. “I’m not a horse.”

But Ezra tugs on my arm, pulling me back down with him. “I’m aware,” he says before pressing his lips to mine for the hundredth time tonight.

I take it.

I’m in no hurry.

He’s the one ready to get me home.

It’s midnight by the time we drive back into town and reach my house.

“Eight a.m.,” I tell him.

“I’ll be here,” he says, another peck to my swollen lips.

I peel the spare key from beneath my mother’s doormat. The thing has a big sunshine smiley face on it. I can’t remember this house without it. It’s faded to a dingy, dirty yellow, and I’m pretty sure the only reason it’s still here is to hide this key.

I wave to Ezra—he’s already at his truck—and tiptoe into my house. There’s a light on in the kitchen, though I know Mom and Dad should both be in bed. Neither can stay up this late anymore.

Maybe it’s Summer—except when a cry mingled with a comforting coo fills my ears, I know it isn’t my sister. Those are Mom’s tears. And that’s Dad’s comforting tone.

I silently make my way down the hall until I stand just outside the kitchen door.

I’ve no desire to get in trouble my last night home. But I can’t just go to bed either. Not with Mom crying like that. I graduated today. Mom threw a big party in the yard and Dad grilled every ounce of meat Love had to offer. We celebrated, we partied. I’ve no idea where tears and sadness are coming from.

But then—I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m not even spending the summer at home. Ezra and I got jobs in New York and we’re both taking advantage of the university’s early housing opportunity.

So, maybe there is a reason to cry. Maybe they’re going to miss me more than I realized.

“Stage three, Ed. That’s far. That’s so far along and—”

“April, stop stressing. I’m strong. I can beat this.”

Mom sniffles and I freeze. My entire body turns to ice. Stage three? Beat this? What are they talking about?

“I just don’t understand,” Mom says, and while she’s whispering, she’s also beside herself with worry. There’s a lack of control in her tone that I do not miss. “You’ve never smoked. Lung cancer? How is that possible?”

“April, honey —”

But the rest of what Dad says is lost on me. Lung cancer .

Lung cancer.

That can’t be right.

I don’t show my face. I listen to Dad comforting my distraught mother for another five minutes, trying to figure out what else their words could mean before I go off to my room—to not sleep one wink the rest of the night.

I don’t cry.

And I don’t fret like Mom—what good would it do?

No, I plan.

Eight a.m. comes quick.

Too quick.

I wait on the porch—I don’t want Ezra ringing the bell and waking my family. I know they wanted to say goodbye. But I’m not leaving today. And I have no idea how late Mom and Dad were up talking. So, they might as well sleep.

I swallow, knowing what I have to do and hating myself for it. But there’s no other option.

That is my only comfort.

“You ready, Green?” Ezra says, his long brown hair flopping over one eye.

I shove my hands in my pockets, peering at him. Floppy brown hair, hazel eyes, pouty lips. I don’t want to forget.

Because I love him.

Which is exactly why I do what I do next.

“I’m not going, Ez.”

Ezra’s brows raise. “Funny. Where are your things? I’ll get them packed.”

I shake my head, pushing down the lump in my throat and the sting in my eyes. Because I will not cry. I’ll be strong and serious, and he’ll be better for it.

Eventually.

“I’m sorry.” I peer at the ground. “I had some… inspiration last night and I realized I can’t go with you.”

“Inspiration? Autumn, you aren’t making sense.”

“I’m young,” I say, my voice so much steadier than I feel. “Just eighteen. I can’t be tied down to one person.” I hold out my arm, directing it toward him before letting it fall like a limp rag to my side. “You shouldn’t be either. New York and the two of us was a bad idea from the start.”

“No,” he says, firm and final. “It’s not a bad idea. What happened?”

“New York isn’t right. For me . That’s all.” I nod at him. “You should go.” He has to go. He can’t stay here. Not with Mav. Not for me.

I turn for the door because I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it together .

Ezra snatches my hand, tugging me to a stop. “Autumn. Explain. You aren’t making any sense.”

“I did,” I tell him, slipping my hand from his. “It was a bad idea. I’ve just come to my senses. We’re done, Ezra.” Those words are like acid on my tongue. Me and Ezra, done. How can that be?

He steps toward me, toward the door I’m holding half open. “Autumn, I—”

But I interrupt because I’m not going to make it much longer. And if I break down, he’ll never leave. “Ez, my family’s asleep. Please don’t cause a ruckus. Yesterday was a long day for my dad.”

“Your dad? Is this about your dad?”

I stare at him. Yes , I say in my head.

“I always wondered. I thought maybe—He doesn’t approve of me, does he?”

I shake my head. My heart breaks with the untrue thought. Then I utter the words I know will send Ezra off to New York, alone: “No. He doesn’t.”