Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ezra
I snag Autumn’s work boots from the corner and head outside, shoeless myself.
“Ezra!” Dessie calls. “Where are you going?”
“She’s going to walk home in a blanket. She should at least have shoes.”
“Goodnight nurse. You two! Go on.” She throws one thumb over her shoulder. “There’s keys in the four-wheelers. Take mine.”
Don nods. “You aren’t going to win the girl back by letting her walk home.”
“Win her—” I whip my head around to him. But he and Dessie both smile knowingly as if they may have installed cameras in this shed sometime in the last ten years and they watched our entire encounter last night.
Do I care if they did? They aren’t wrong.
For the first time in ten years, I don’t feel unsure or hesitant about what I want or what I’m doing. Yes, I’ve been confused, hurt, and angry.
But I have a better handle on the situation now. I feel the closure Dr. Appleby said I would. And for the first time in a long time, I know what I want.
I want Autumn. I always have. I always will. She’s still the stubborn, thoughtful, passionate girl I loved all those years ago. Last night proved that.
And while I wish she’d never sent me away all those years ago, I finally understand why she did. That knowledge changes everything.
I was never good at hating her anyway. Even when I tried to.
The crisp fall air hits me like a brick. It’s not that New York is warm—but it’s different. I’m pretty sure there’s no cold like Wyoming cold, and I’m not used to it anymore.
“Autumn!” I call, but she ignores me. She’s walking—barefoot and yards away at this point. Crazy woman . Maybe she didn’t hear me.
I hop onto Dessie’s machine and take off for her. There’s no way she doesn’t hear me coming, but she still doesn’t bother looking back.
I ride five feet ahead of her, then stop. “Come on, Green. Hop on.”
“No,” she says, taking another step. But with her next step, she hisses, her foot jolting upward. She’s stepped on something. “Dang it!” she yells, then glares as if I’m the one who forced her out here. As if I set her foot down on whatever is causing her pain.
No ma’am , I'm the one who tried to make her drive here last night! I’m the one trying to give her a ride now.
“Get on,” I tell her, more command than request. If she’s going to be difficult, then I’m giving it right back.
“I don’t want to,” she gripes.
“Why? Because I kissed you?”
She takes another limping step forward.
“Because I’ve got news for you, Green. You kissed me right back. ”
Her long hair fans out as she spins herself around to give me another classic Autumn death stare. She was always the sweetest—until she wasn't. And then look out world. Apparently, that hasn't changed either.
Good. I wouldn’t have her any other way.
“I was tricked,” she says, teeth grinding.
“Tricked? So, you thought you were stuck in a shed with somebody else? Harry Styles, maybe? Yeah—I’ve always known you’re a closet Harry fan.”
She sucks in a breath—but doesn’t deny the fact. She just takes another step forward. “Ouch!” She groans, limping a little on her left foot.
I stand from my seat, still straddling Dessie’s machine, and shift into park. “Just get on the four-wheeler, Autumn!”
“You can’t make me!” she yells.
Which only makes me turn into a seventeen-year-old boy with too much pride and too much adrenaline pumping. Because guess what, I've got nine inches and ninety pounds on the girl. I can make her.
I give her one more chance. “You hurt your foot, just let me give you a ride.”
“I am not straddling you, Ezra Bennett—not now, not ever!” She takes another two steps and tries to hide the wincing that takes over her face.
“Fine,” I bark, hopping off the four-wheeler.
She looks up just in time to see me lumbering toward her. “What are you—”
I answer by threading one arm behind her back, the other under her legs, and swoop her up into my arms. Sure, I could just give Autumn her shoes, but what fun would that be?
“Ezra!” My name shrieks from her lips at an ear-drum-bursting volume. She holds tight to her blanket with both hands, keeping it right up under her chin. It’s helpful—there’s less flailing arms this way.
I set her on the seat side saddle, then I climb onto the machine. Scooping her back into my arms, I settle into the seat and rest her on my lap. She's not a willing participant, but there's not a lot she can do about it cocooned in her blanket.
“Well, one thing hasn’t changed,” she says without bothering to spare me a glance. “You’re just as annoying today as you were ten years ago.”
“You loved everything about me ten years ago,” I tell her. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s heard me. And ten years ago, I was sure that was true. Today my confidence may be an imposter, but I go with it.
I hear the grind of Autumn’s teeth, but she doesn’t say a word.