Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Autumn
Ezra’s fingers are warm and strong threaded between my own.
We walk down Main Street—and I happily ignore the half dozen people who have given us a double take. Small town. You have to ignore it or move. And we both know I can’t move.
“What did you think of the tasting?” he says.
I haven’t been to a Love fall festival in years. They’ve added a few things. On top of a pumpkin carving contest and spiced coffees and hot cocoa galore, there’s a fall foods tasting contest.
“It was fun. No one made me drink the cocoa, so that’s a plus.”
He smirks. “Next year you should enter something. I may or may not have volunteered to be a judge.”
I knit my brows. He’s thinking about next year. He’s thinking about us and Love and being here.
I squeeze his fingers because Ezra being back makes me feel whole again. I love my family, my friends, and, for the most part, my life. But that doesn’t mean it’s been easy. There’s been a big fat chunk of me that’s been missing all this time. An Ezra-shaped chunk.
“And you’d vote for my dish, no doubt. ”
He lifts one brow. “I’d have to be an honest judge, Green. I couldn’t just give you the Harvest Feast Fest title. As much as I’d like to, I’m too honest.”
I laugh. “But you think I have a shot?”
“I really do. No one makes an apple pie quite like Autumn Green.”
“You have never tasted my apple pie.”
“No, but I’d really like to. This is my hint.”
I pinch his side—where zero fat resides—and Ezra snatches my elbow. I grin up at him, beaming. I couldn’t stop it if I tried. Ezra .
He leans down and I lift up on my toes, happily letting him kiss me. My nose is cold against his skin, but his kiss warms me head to toe.
“Well,” calls a loud, calloused voice. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I drop down to my heels and blink ahead. Standing just feet in front of us on Main Street is Mav Bennett. He leans against one of the large metal trash bins on the sidewalk. If the thing weren’t bolted to the ground, I’m guessing he’d have tipped it over by now.
“Is that my boy?” he yells, though we’re a stones throw away from the man. The sidewalk is full of people leaving the festival, and every one of them hears him.
“Mav,” Ezra whispers beside me. His eyes are on his father and nothing else.
“It is . That boy I fed and clothed and took care of all by myself. His mama had run off, you see. One look at him and she was a goner.” He laughs, loud and mean, tripping over his own feet as he takes three steps closer to us. “Yep, my boy . The one that left!” Mav throws out his arm as if to show Ezra off to the world. His nose wrinkles and he spits on the ground in front of himself. “He left home and never came back. What a good boy.”
“Let’s go,” I say, tugging on Ezra’s jacket.
“You come back for her?” Mav says, his black eyes skirting to me. “She ain’t worth two cents.”
I tug again.
“You need to go home, Mav,” Ezra says, his arm out in front of me.
I peer around at the people watching us. But Ezra doesn’t seem to notice them.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, taking his eyes from a seething Mav to find the number he’s searching for. “Hey, Canelo. It’s Ezra.”
Canelo ? As in our old high school friend. Ezra has Canelo’s number? How did that happen? Just like me, Canelo never left town.
“Mav’s down here, on Main. He could use a ride home.”
“Oh no you don’t! I don’t need no ride!” Mav lunges, fist swinging.
A yelp sounds from my mouth, but Ezra is bigger, stronger, and so much faster than his intoxicated father. He moves, but not to attack—no, he moves himself right in front of me. Mav’s fist collides with Ezra’s phone and hand at his cheek. He stumbles into me with the hit and I fumble backward.
Ezra’s arm swipes around my back and somehow I stay on my feet. I stumble, but I don’t fall. I lift my gaze and gasp.
Blood trickles from Ezra’s eye to his chin.
Mav’s hit him. He knocked Ezra’s phone into his cheek, hard enough to cut him open just below his eye.