Pictured
SEVEN
Autumn
I woke to the smell of grilled cheese, and the sound of my little Stetson somewhere in the apartment chatting away.
“That right? Well when your mama gets up, I’ll see what she has to say about it.” Jake’s voice?
I groaned and shifted onto my side. Moving turned out to be a mistake—my skull beat like a drum from the inside.
On the nightstand, I could barely see the outline of a glass of water and two aspirin. Maybe a sleeve of saltine crackers sitting at the ready.
Ugh. And the evil manila envelope some man had given me when I took the trash out before work last night.
Autumn Triggs? You’ve been served.
The Eatons were suing for custody of my son. Not Brantley, no word of him in the suit. But his parents.
After that, the night was a little fuzzy between work and Smitty’s disappointed face when I proved useless and dropped a tray of glasses.
Instead of going home, I needed a drink.
Just one, with good intentions to calm my greatest fear of losing my child to the Eatons.
Only one didn’t make all the hurt and ache go away.
How I ended up here, though…? Oh no. Cutting through all the blur, I could see Jake entering the Saloon. Then maybe his ass, as he carried me over his shoulder to bed? After that, I didn’t know, but my clothes were still on, everything but my boots.
I groaned and suffered, sitting upright. I took the pills and drank the entire glass because my body demanded it.
My eyes lighted on the manila envelope, sitting opened. Had Jake peeked inside? Did he know?
I slowly made my way to the kitchen, following the smell of butter and cheese, not sure whether I was hungry for it or going to hurl again.
“Hi, Jake.” My voice cracked on his name. I leaned against the doorway, covered in this morning’s shame.
“How are you feeling?” Jake glanced at me without a smile from the stove, flipping the sandwich in a hot pan. My son sat in his high chair negotiating a pile of diced peaches between his finger and thumb.
“Foolish. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night.”
“You’ve been dealing with so much. That’s all.
A person has a right to let off some steam.
” He handed me coffee in a lidded mug, his eyes touring my face.
I made no effort to conceal whatever he saw—likely my swollen and tired eyes, hair all a mess.
What was the point when I could lose the one person I was living for?
“How did you even know?”
“Smitty called. Seems like you had a rough day. I got you home safely. Next time, give me some warning. I’ll be there the entire night, let you drink, and get you home in one piece.”
“Mama,” he cooed, and held his hands out for me.
“You’re just fine, right there, buddy,” Jake said and distracted him with a sippy cup of milk.
“I’m so sorry.” I shed a tear and sucked in a shaky breath.
“Come here. Sit down.” Jake pulled me over to the table and chairs.
“Don’t be so nice to me right now.”
“Why not?” He chuckled. He moved everything to the table, two plates of sandwiches, Stetson in his high chair, and more water. “Talk to me, Autumn. What’s going on?”
No use keeping it from him, and I didn’t have the energy to fight it.
The whole thing came pouring out of me about the man handing me the envelope.
The custody petition from the Eatons of Sheridan, Wyoming—Brantley’s parents, big deals in cattle, and money so old it probably had its own room to hold it all at the Bank of Wyoming.
“They want full custody of Stetson. Twenty-some pages of legal garbage saying… Oh, God. Saying I’m unwed, unstable, uninsured, and unfit to be his mother.”
I broke down, and grabbed Stetson from his chair, holding him to my chest, regardless of his peach-sticky hands. I sauntered over to the window, crying and swaying with him.
“Mama,” he said.
“My baby.” I kissed his head and inhaled his scent.
“You can fight this.” Jake came up behind us. “Everyone in town knows you’re a perfectly fit mother.”
“But I fled the state.”
“Trying to flee that bastard who abused you.”
“I work nights in a bar, and live in a tiny place above a coffee shop. His parents have money and status and power. They’ll win.”
“They can’t have him. Whatever it takes, we’ll fight—”
“It’s Marlene Eaton. She’s a force. You don’t know these people like I do. Everyone in the three counties reveres them. They have their own wing at the hospital and a pew at church with their name on it.” Stetson fussed, wanting out of my arms.
“There has to be a way.” Jake took the baby and set him up on the floor with some soft, padded balls to play with. “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here for you. I’ll ask around. Find a lawyer. Harper and Gavin will know people. He’s the sheriff and probably knows every attorney and judge.”
“They’ll have the best lawyers across both states. I have a measly three hundred dollars in a coffee can in the kitchen. Tell me how that works, Jake? It doesn’t.” I folded my arms across my stomach, still queasy.
“I have money saved. We’ll figure something out.”
“No. This is not your battle. You’ve already done so much. I cannot take one more thing from you.”
“Dadadadada,” Stetson added his favorite phrase and threw a stuffed ball across the floor. He grinned at us both, six teeth and all, completely unaware of how much his short life could get disrupted once again.
They could take him. The Eatons took what they wanted all the time. Brantley told me things about his parents, and I’d had my own run-ins with Marlene, watching her rearrange the truth how she saw fit on more than one occasion.
A big hand landed on the windowsill at my side. Jake leaned in, patting my back. How I wanted to lean into that hand for strength and warmth, but what I really needed was a miracle.
“I’m not going anywhere. And not because of a promise to Trig, but because I wouldn’t leave you to deal with this alone.”
“I just don’t know what to do now. It’s so… so overwhelming.”
“I’ll tell you what we do.” He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting, hand sweetly pressing a lock of my hair back. “We are going to the pumpkin patch opening today.”
I snorted. “I’m not in any condition or mood.”
“Under Ivy’s direction, we’ve been working on it all week.
It’ll be fun. We’ll get out of this apartment, spend it outside on this sunny fall day.
You could use the distraction. Besides, the first rule of a fight Autumn—don’t give your opponent the satisfaction.
Stetson’s here. Tomorrow, we’ll figure things out.
Today, they don’t get to steal your time away from him. ”
“I don’t know, Jake. I think I’d just be miserable walking around there and bringing everyone down.”
“Would you trust me on this, for once? We’ll go for a little while, and can leave when you say so. Let me get you and the baby out of here for the day.”
Stetson chatted away staring at a stuffed doggie in his hands, so cute. No idea he was smack in the middle of a grown up dispute. Jake was right. Why should I waste a day? I needed to spend as much time with my son as I could—in case each day might be my last.
Jake might think I could win this. I had horrible, huge doubts.
“Okay. To the pumpkin patch,” I whispered, and wiped my tears.
“Good. Now eat up. I’ll get the kid bathed and ready.” He took me by the hand and led me back to the table.
As the sweet sounds of Stetson playing in the tub wafted through the apartment, I finally took a bite of the sandwich. I wasn’t sure about anything at all, but it turned out this grilled cheese was exactly what I needed.
Half an acre of the ranch’s east garden bloomed in gold and orange under the September sun. Pumpkins sat in displays everywhere, all shapes and sizes and colors. Eldon really had gotten carried away; what a beautiful way to start off Fall.
Ivy and Willow and the crew had built a whole world around it, including a hay bale maze, cider and coffee stand with cups sporting the Copper Cup logo, a fenced-in area where Colt and the guys led ponies around with kids holding on tight.
There were fun games set up here and there too for families to play like pumpkin bowling, giant sling-shots set up to fling pumpkins into a field, and rubber ducky races in galvanized tubs.
Half of Forest Grove must have shown up, the crowd building gradually throughout the day.
It had been the distraction I needed. I added at least a hundred more photos of Stetson in the pumpkin patch. He met his first gourd and slapped it twice, even claiming it with a bite. From a nearby bin of mini-pumpkins, Jake became obsessed with finding him the best one to take home.
“He’s one, Jake. He’ll be happy with any of them,” I chuckled.
“Details matter. Aha.” He held up the winner, a pumpkin perfectly round and the size of an orange with a stem big enough Stetson could wrap a hand around. “This one.”
Stetson didn’t let that darn thing go all afternoon. And for a while, I managed not to think about the manila envelope sitting at home.
We ran into our friends… our friends. People who I’d come to care about this past year. But what if I ended up moving back to Wyoming? Or running away with Stetson? I hadn’t verbalized these thoughts to Jake this morning, but they were there in the dark parts of my mind.
Sage sold Jake caramel apples for later.
Carter and Knox approved of the mini pumpkin.
Ivy blew through with her clipboard, Colt in tow.
Willow caught Jake by the sleeve and pointed him toward a stuck hay wagon.
We stood by and watched the muscular man get it unstuck, lifting it out of a deep rut.
I let my gaze wander over him and his muscles much longer than I probably should.
Willow caught me doing it and elbowed me, saying nothing.
When Jake came back to us, he had a little hay in his hair. I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” He asked.
“Come here, bend down.”
He did and I picked the hay out, my fingers sliding through his thick hair.
It wasn’t curly or wavy, but was on the longish side and always laid nicely.
I especially adored the ends of it sticking out at his neck whenever he wore a cowboy hat.
He moaned, and the sound wound through me—straight down, and spreading.
I gasped, pulling my hand away that had gotten a little carried away rubbing along his scalp.
When he straightened and we stood there, eyes connecting, my cheeks heated over his slow wink at me. And then a shutter clicked nearby.
We turned smack into a curvy woman with a camera in our faces. “Hi. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’m Rayna, official pumpkin patch photographer. What a gorgeous little family.”
“Oh, we’re not um…” I started, but she barreled us over to a scene set up with hay bales and pumpkin and corn stalks. “Bring your little man over here for a photo. It’s compliments of the ranch. Everyone gets one. Seat him right there on the top hay bale,” she instructed.
Jake shrugged and set the baby up as asked, pumpkin still in his grasp in his lap.
“Isn’t he adorable? What’s his name?” She asked, shutter clicking away.
“Stetson,” I supplied. I pulled my phone out to take photos, too.
“Okay, now you get in there, Mom.”
“Sure.” I gathered my boy and positioned him on my lap. We had probably about two more minutes of this before he’d get fussy.
“Smile. Wonderful. You too, Dad, family photo time with the baby.”
We both stopped and stuttered at the same time.
“Oh, I uh—” Jake scratched his neck.
“Yeah, he um—”
Rayna must have mistook our awkwardness for logistics. She simply took Jake by the arm and planted him on the hay bale beside us.
“There. Smile. Yes. Now, sir, put your arm around her back.” Rayna had the effect of a drill sergeant, and Jake did as instructed. “Scoot together closer. One big happy family. Closer.”
Warmth from Jake’s arm radiated through me, his breath feathering across my neck. His cologne steadied nothing, as my heart beat rapidly. One touch and the entire chemical composition of my body altered.
“Dada,” Stetson protested, done with Rayna. He somehow got a hold of Jake’s shirt and pulled himself to standing on his lap, leaning his head on his shoulder. Jake’s arms wrapped protectively around him. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.
“Oh. My. God. I’m having a Best Pumpkin Patch Family Photo Contest and if you all don’t enter…” Rayna shook her head.
Stetson reached up and slapped both hands against Jake’s jaw, shrieking with joy, and as ridiculous as the situation was, Jake threw his head back laughing. I stared at the two of them in awe.
“Mark my words, the board of the Chamber of Commerce will be voting in October and you are a shoe-in.” Rayna handed us a flyer as we finally stood.
She poised a pencil over a notebook. “The print for your complimentary photo will be ready Tuesday to pick up at the hardware store in town. Last name please?”
Neither of us answered at first.
“Family name?” Rayna arched her brow.
“McCall,” Jake said.
“Yeah,” I breathed. It really wasn’t worth correcting Rayna at this point. But my mind ran away with it for one second, picturing a life I couldn’t have, with Jake and me and Stetson, living happily ever after.
“Coffee?” Jake cleared his throat and asked, not dwelling a minute longer on it, like he could read my mind. “I could go for a pumpkin-spice latte right now. How about you? My treat.”
“Sure,” I croaked, the picture fading behind us. Because luck was never on my side, and the Eatons were waiting to tear me apart on the other side.
All afternoon though, I held to the memory of his moan. I caught myself rubbing my fingertips together like I could still feel his hair, like a thief who’d touched something rare once and couldn’t stop thinking about stealing it for themselves.
One moan. From one touch. Staying just friends with this man was a growing problem.