Chapter 11 Autumn
AUTUMN
A few days later, I was cleared for discharge.
I had no plan and no real clothes. Just one hospital-issued crutch and a head full of questionable ideas.
Mom always said three things in life really mattered: kindness, resilience, and independence. Everything else was negotiable.
Then came Dom.
He had kindness and resilience in spades. But the independence part? That’s where things got tricky.
Her whole spiel was: Stand on your own two feet. Don’t expect anyone to catch you.
Not that Mom was wrong. I’d always believed it, like a rule to live by. But Dom? He was showing me a different way.
Depending on him didn’t cost me anything. He didn’t hover or coddle. He just stepped in when I needed it without making a big deal about it.
And suddenly, doing it all alone didn’t feel like the only option.
That was new. And weird.
And, if I’m being honest, kind of nice.
“Here. Hot off the dry cleaners,” he said, handing me a neatly hung shirt and pants. I thought they were not mine at first glance, but they were mine. Just cleaner and impeccably pressed.
“Dom…you did this for me?”
He wasn’t done. He handed me another bag. “Some extra T-shirts for you. I picked them up from the shop.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, already touched by the effort. Then I pulled one out.
I Buffaloberry Hill.
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. “Oh wow.”
Dom nodded, completely straight-faced. “If it helps, I got a matching one in case you feel self-conscious.”
“Dom, please. The father-daughter aesthetic? Not our best look.”
He chuckled. “Noted. But you could’ve at least said we’d look like a traveling comedy duo. That would’ve been kinder.”
I laughed out loud because, honestly, the image fit a little too well.
“How old are you anyway?” I asked.
“Thirty-three.”
I nodded. He looked about that age.
He raised an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t mind me asking the same?”
“Twenty-one.”
He matched my nodding gesture. A silent agreement to never revisit this conversation.
“I’ll, uh…I won’t be long,” I said, and he stepped out to let me change.
I rummaged through the bag of T-shirts. Most weren’t too bad. One, with little berry prints, was actually kind of cute. I threw it on under my shirt.
When I called him back in, Dom gave an approving nod. “Good choice.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t tell me you got a matching one.”
“Nope,” he said easily. “That design was ladies only. I got the boring kind with mountains and eagles and inspirational slogans.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, “because nothing says survival like a bird telling you to ‘rise and conquer.’”
I started toward the door, the crutch under my arm. As it turned out, walking on one leg was a lot harder when you weren’t being carried by a very determined ex-lawyer. The hall stretched, my gait wonky at best.
Dom didn’t make a fuss. He just stayed close. His hand ghosted near my elbow the entire time, ready to catch me if I swayed even an inch.
“Rise and conquer,” he parroted to me.
“Shut up!”
“Hey, you’re doing great,” he said. “Just don’t hit anyone.”
I smirked, leaning into him just a touch more than necessary. My calf wound gave me a solid excuse. Not that I needed one. But whatever the situation, I soaked it up, knowing it wouldn’t last forever.
Dom opened the truck door.
“Lulu!” I yelped.
The furry wrecking ball of joy came hurtling toward me, nearly knocking me over before Dom caught my elbow. Lulu whined, tail wagging, her nose pressing against my stomach as if she was making sure I was still in one piece.
Dom eased me down so I could reach her, his one hand on my back, the other lowering the crutch.
“Here,” he said. “Let me carefully assist your dramatic reunion.”
I knelt just enough to smother Lulu with attention. She yipped, practically vibrating. Dom stayed right there behind me, not letting go until I was steady again.
“She’s been waiting all day,” Dom said, the tiniest smirk playing at his lips.
“Look at you!” I cooed. “You even got a collar. Pink, no less.”
I raised an eyebrow at Dom, demanding answers.
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t blame the messenger. Mr. Gunn gave it to me.”
“Who’s Mr. Gunn?”
“The shelter guy. Old, cranky. Has zero give, and looks like he’s been scowling since the Nixon era. But he’s a good guy. Really.”
“So naturally, he chose a pink collar.”
Dom shrugged. “I wasn’t about to argue.”
I glanced back at Lulu. “Wow. So Lulu got the last collar in the county, and it’s bubblegum pink.”
“Mr. Gunn said it brought out her sass. I kinda agree,” Dom said.
“He did not. You said that.”
“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t wrong.”
Lulu cocked her head, her tongue lolling.
Dom gestured for Lulu to hop back in the truck. She obeyed without fuss.
Then he turned to me. “Ready?”
“Not even close,” I said, but I took his hand.
He helped me up—firm enough to steady me, gentle enough to pretend I wasn’t one awkward lurch away from face-planting on the asphalt.
I eased in, minding my leg. He tucked the crutch in after me, then rounded the front and slid into the driver’s seat.
“All right, Sleeping Beauty.” He started the engine. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”
“Don’t call me that. Makes me sound lazy.”
Dom laughed. “All right. Autumn then.”
It was the first time I really looked around. Mountain peaks lined the horizon, not bad for a hospital view. Then again, the whole town probably had a front-row seat to the scenery.
Dom flicked on the radio. The tail end of “Sand in My Boots” faded out, replaced by a DJ with a voice way younger and way more hyped than I’d expected from a town this size.
“If anyone sees my fishing rod, it’s got my name on it.
Glen. G-L-E-N. I left it near the stump that looks like a coyote. You know the one.”
I squinted. “Was that…the actual radio?”
Dom shrugs. “Buffaloberry Hill FM. You lose something, they’ll shout about it until someone finds it.”
I chuckled and sank back into the seat, grateful for a town that didn’t seem to expect too much too soon.
The first stoplight blinked red. To the left sat a big warehouse-style building. A hardware store, by the looks of it. The doors were propped open, and folks were moving in and out with purpose.
A few blocks down, things softened. The buildings turned older and friendlier, the wood siding weathered just enough to feel honest, not rundown, with red brick tucked between faded paint and flower boxes. A bakery. A diner. The town didn’t try to impress. It just showed up.
Somewhere more comfortable turned out to be his motel.
It made sense. He’d just moved here and clearly hadn’t sorted out a permanent place yet.
At the motel parking lot, we went through the whole in-and-out-of-the-truck dance again. Lulu was extra bouncy this time, soaking up the praise I kept giving her, though some of it probably belonged to my chauffeur.
“Uh, let’s keep this quiet, okay?” Dom said.
“Oh?”
“She’s technically not allowed here,” he added. “Madam Teddy Roosevelt would lose it if she found out.”
“Who?”
“The motel owner. Huge fan of the Roosevelt. Teddy. She acts like she’s protecting his legacy or something. Yellowstone and all that.”
“Okay, got it.”
“Lulu, sit,” Dom commanded, taking the leash and guiding her to his side. She obeyed, settling at his feet.
My heart squeezed—from Lulu, Dom, and the whole ridiculous situation of having these two take care of me when I was so used to fending for myself.
But the fuzzies lasted exactly five minutes.
Because then Dom handed me a motel key.
“To your room,” he said.
Wait. What?
I stared at him. “You got me my own room?”
He frowned. “Uh, yeah?” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Right. Because it was. Because he was a good guy, and this wasn’t that kind of thing.
And yet, disappointment hit me anyway.
Which was stupid.
I wasn’t his. Not in any way that mattered.
He was an older man, and he was probably leaving town eventually. Great to have right now and great to fantasize about, but let’s be real. Boys had baggage. Grown men had entire matching luggage sets.
And if I let myself fall any harder for him, I’d have no one to blame but myself.
“I, uh…I’m gonna head to my room,” I said, clutching the key a little too tightly.
Dom scooped up Lulu as if he were sneaking her past border control, scanning the parking lot before steering me toward my room.
The second I was settled, he turned toward the door. Was he reminding me that this thing, whatever it was, had an expiration date?
Lulu, at least, had no such reservations. She flopped down beside me on the bed.
Dom watched as I buried my fingers in Lulu’s fur. She smelled of…
I paused to think.
Candy shampoo.
I pulled back slightly, sniffing again. Yep. Sugary, fruity, and definitely not “dog.”
My eyes narrowed. “Did Dom—”
Lulu yawned, stretching out with no shame.
I glanced at Dom and laughed. “Oh my god. You bathed her.”
He shrugged, deadpan. “Can’t bring a dirtball into civilization. She’s officially cuddle compliant.”
I laughed even harder.
The man who saved me, carried me, and tucked me into a hospital bed like some guardian angel—he gave “my dog” a bath.
“Hey, you want dinner? Pizza here’s not bad,” he offered.
If I were going to eat with him, I wanted to be all there—bright-eyed, chirpy, and presentable. And I wasn’t hungry. Not for food, anyway.
“Actually…I think I’ll go straight to bed, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” he said.
I sauntered to the bathroom but left the door ajar, then quickly swapped my clothes for the baggy I Buffaloberry Hill T-shirt.
Then I climbed back into bed.
He said, “If you need me, I’m in room 109. Two doors down.”
After surviving a near-death hike, a storm, and one very cramped tent, I figured I’d earned a little nerve. “What if I need you now?”
His brows ticked up, just slightly. And beneath his calm smile, there was something else. Relief, maybe, as if he’d been hoping I’d ask.
“Well, I’m here.”
I reached for his hand. “Please stay. Just until I fall asleep.”
He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t sit either.