Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ezra
I have three years of experience sneaking out the back of this barn—and I hone into that now. With only a few creaks, I find my way out the back door and around to the front. This way, Autumn has no idea I’ve heard their conversation.
I am innocent.
I push my way into the big sliding barn door and grin ear to ear. That face screams innocent, right? “Hey, ladies.”
“Ezra,” Dessie says, her voice as sugary as maple syrup. She cups a hand to my face and tugs me down to her, kissing me on the apple of my cheek before releasing me. “How’s my boy?”
“Good. I’m good.” My breath is winded from climbing over Don’s wood chipper and hauling around to the front of the barn. “How are you?” I ask Dessie, but my eyes find Autumn’s. Before Dessie can answer, I’m talking again. “How’s your foot?”
“What happened to Autumn’s foot?” Dessie asks me, as if Autumn may struggle to answer.
“Uh, she got a needle stuck in her heel before I had a chance to pick her up.”
Autumn’s eyes narrow and she seethes a bit at my word choice— pick her up . Not gonna lie, I one hundred percent enjoyed picking her up and hauling her off.
“I see. All is well now?” Dessie glances behind her at Autumn.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” I say, winking at Autumn. “I doctored her up.”
Dessie hums a happy sigh. “Good boy.” She brushes her hands together. “Well, I’m off. I’ve got to get these new kids straightened out. Who knows what Don’s got them working on.”
“But you said—” Autumn starts, her tone high-pitched. “You said this barn wasn’t a one-person job.” Her gaze avoids mine with so much purpose she might as well be staring me down.
“Yes. That’s right.” Dessie nods as if Autumn were young and simple-minded. “And now that Ezra’s here, there’s two of you to take care of it.”
If Autumn’s eyes were lasers, they would have split Dessie down the middle by now. She watches her all the way out the door, to which Dessie smiles and waves like she was the main act at a children’s party.
I move to the opposite side of the barn, gathering up the deer netting and stakes at the right. Peering back, I scowl. Why am I on this side of the building? Everything heavy is on her side.
“Oh, hey—” I say.
“Nope. We don’t need to talk,” she says, lifting two jugs of fertilizer that probably weigh as much as she does.
I take three steps toward her. I won't waste my breath on fertilizer though. "I think we do. We have a decade to make up for. And last night—"
An exasperated groan falls from her lips and she drops both jugs onto the dirt floor. “No. No talking.”
Maybe I’ll take a play out of Dessie’s maple sugar book—I can pretend she isn’t being prickly. I walk past her, grin sweetly, and set my light haul on the bench beside her. Then, leaning close, I pick up the two jugs she’s left on either side of her. “How’s Summer? ”
Her jaw moves from side to side. But she’s always been proud of her little sister.
I move my feet toward the back room of the barn, giving her a little space.
“She’s good,” Autumn says from behind me, her tone already softer.
“Is she a zookeeper in some big city?” The girl was always bringing home a stray or doctoring up an injured bird.
There’s a curt scoff behind me. “No. She writes grants to fund wildlife conservation programs though. She’s still trying to save every four-legged creature she finds.”
I peer back. Autumn’s face has smoothed its grouchy wrinkles. “Good for her,” I say. “I’m not surprised.”
We set our things in the back room and return for more, falling back into the groove of work as if no time has passed. We did this job together years ago and we’re back at it. But then, I guess Autumn never left it.
I understand she stayed to support her parents. But for how long? She had big dreams—no less than Summer’s. Why didn’t she leave five years ago? I have so many questions with so many answers Autumn doesn’t want to give.
So, I ask something else. Something easier. Slow and steady. “How’s your mom?”
“Ahh.” Her brow furrows. “ Different than when you last saw her.”
“It’s been a while.” I gather more fertilizer and wait, hoping she’ll elaborate. It’s like I’m coaxing a snake. For every slow slither I get, I also risk getting bit.
“Yeah,” she says, hefting up the deer repellent. Her voice is small.
I look around the barn and blow out a quiet sigh, not wanting to lose her because I asked the wrong question. “Why did we always let this part of the barn get so full of things? It always made our September more difficult. ”
She shrugs. “I think it feels like wasted space, not using it the majority of the year. And it’s empty. So our brains think one or two items taking up its space isn’t a big deal.”
“One or two?”
“Or a hundred.” She breathes out a chuckle. She blinks over to me, walking beside her to the back, our arms once again full. “How did you become jobless and homeless?”
“Ah.” I exhale, tired from just thinking about the last few years. “That’s a long story.”
“Well, lucky for you, we have a lot of stuff to clear away.”
Sure, this she’ll talk about. If I bring up that kiss last night, I’ll probably get slugged again. But if she’s talking—I’ll take it. Even if that means baring my soul to the girl.
I spend the next hour telling her about the company I signed with right out of college.
“Why did you choose that firm?”
“They were such a huge firm with so many advancement opportunities. They worked with everyone from the smallest to the largest. And I liked that. At least, I thought I did. Unfortunately, my values did not align with theirs. I spent years arguing with them about things like cutting corners and fudging numbers. Finally, I left.”
“It took you long enough.”
I laugh, though I’m still not sure any of it’s funny. “It did. But I hoped I could change them. I thought we had enough in common that it might work out. There are people working there whose work is renowned. In the end, they wouldn’t change. Their tactics had worked for them, so why would they listen to me?”
Her brows raise. “Same old story.”
“What does that mean?” I pause putting the deer netting back into its proper place.
“You thought you could change Mav too.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m a slow learner.” There’s a numb space in my chest where any emotions for my father should reside. I won’t allow him to hurt me anymore. But I don’t hope for him to change or be the father I deserve anymore either.
"You're not a slow learner. You're an optimist. Always have been." Her smile is small and short-lived—but so very Autumn. She's still in there. And maybe she's right. Maybe I am an optimist because that smallest of grins gives me a whole lot of hope.
“Anyway, the car payment, my apartment rental, and so many other money-sucking things were not prepared for my sudden incomeless life. After a few months, I ran out of money and moved in with Phillip.”
“The idiot friend,” she says.
I smirk. “He’s not an idiot.”
“Where’d you guys meet?”
“College.”
She nods, her eyes dropping down. College —does she regret not going?
"We were roommates and quick friends. He's married now. I was the best man at his wedding." I smile at the memory.
Phillip was exactly the friend I needed when Autumn pushed me away, leaving me confused and hurt. He forced me to go out. He made me talk. I’m pretty sure I should have paid him as much as I’ve paid Dr. Appleby.
“That’s nice, Ezra.”
“What about you? Meg’s new.”
“Yeah.” She sits, slumping down on a barrel in the main room. “New and now gone.”
I sit beside her. “When did you guys meet?”
"She moved into town a couple of years ago." Her lip curls. "She was dating Kyle Wells."
“Oof,” I say, understanding that curl now. Not my favorite of Love Prairie Dogs. In fact, possibly one of my least favorite people from school.
“She learned quick enough after being here what a player he is.” She makes a gagging face that makes me laugh. “We bonded after she brought her kindergartners to the farm for a class field trip. Then again after she learned that Kyle had been cheating on her. Scum. He so does not deserve Meg. That girl is an angel.” She breathes out a sigh—one that tells me how much she misses her friend. “She ended up teaching here for two years. Kal, her now-husband, came for this past school year. But they moved back to his home. This year she’ll be teaching in Hawaii.” Another sorrowful sigh falls from her chest.
“That bad?” Hawaii sounds pretty great. Maybe it’s the guy. “Kal?”
“No. Kal’s great. He’s adorable and fun. He just happens to call Hawaii home.”
“Huh. Love, Wyoming?” I hold up one hand as if weighing the options. “Hawaii? I can’t imagine why they moved.”
“Yeah, well, I get it. I just don’t like it. At least he’s a million times more worthy of her than Kyle Wells ever was—”
“One hundred percent. I don’t even know the guy. But he’s got to be better than Kyle.”
Autumn laughs. “Yep. With the exception of Kyle, Meg’s got a great head on her shoulders.” She swings her legs, her heel knocking into the bottom of the barrel.
I adjust on my barrel—not at all comfortable but not willing to give up my seat next to her. "Autumn," I say, and her amber eyes lift to mine. "Have dinner with me tonight?"
It takes less than two seconds for that tiny woman to push me off my barrel with all the strength of a body-building man. She groans loud and annoyed, not answering my question.
I’m spry, though; I steady my feet on the floor before I can fall to the ground on my butt. “Wow,” I say. “We went an entire hour before you hit me. Record.”
She rolls her eyes and heads to the back of the barn without a single thing in her hands.
“Where did this violent streak come from, Green? I don’t remember you needing to hit people before. ”
She flashes a false grin. “It showed up about the same time you did. Imagine that?”
The back room has little to no space now that we’ve filled it up. Right—another reason we used the main space of the old red barn during the year. I remember.
Still, I don’t mind. As I enter the room, the little space left puts me right next to Autumn.
“We have other things to talk about,” I say, pinning her with my stare and maybe crowding in on her a little more than needed.
“Like what?” Her words are a challenge. If I bring up that kiss again, I’m getting shoved. No doubt about it.
“I thought you wanted a say in everything when it comes to the Bistro.”
She sniffs. I’ve surprised her.
Yeah… I'm going with my best bet. And talking about that kiss, isn't it.
“I do.” She tips her head to peer up at me.
“My place or yours?”
Her throat bobs with a swallow. “Um—”
I lean down, feeling the warmth of her body just inches from my own. I brush a light kiss to her cheek and jaw, risking her wrath. It’s worth it. “I’ll come to you.”