Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Autumn
“Ugh!” I groan once my door is nice and shut. I am sweaty and flushed and ready to kick something. Instead, I throw on a T-shirt and sit on my unmade bed. I breathe. I squash down any discomfort my body may be feeling and pull out my phone. I watch two videos of Harry singing to screaming girls—Harry can calm any pounding heart, even with screaming girls in the background.
I blow out another breath, shove my phone into my pocket, and head for the outdoors.
My little trees aren’t going to transplant themselves.
Whether Ezra is here or not, there are chores to be done.
He has plenty of work to do for my bistro, right? I shouldn’t have to see him—at least, not if I board up that dumb window in the dining room. Who needs sunlight anyway?
Only, Ezra’s lame russet-brown head, obnoxious broad shoulders, and stupid long legs are waiting right outside my house.
“Why are you still here?” I stomp my foot like a child not getting her way.
“I was waiting for you.”
“Don’t you have work to do? ”
“I do. I still need details from you on the actual building before I can begin my sketch. But I thought we could talk.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and sure, the man has grown up. That body and beard say the boy phase is over. But with his hands in his pockets like that, he reminds me of the teenage boy who made me believe that everything and anything was possible.
“Talk?” I say, eyes narrowed. Talking to Ezra Bennett sounds like a good way to bust up an already broken heart.
“Yeah. It’s been a long time. Like I said, we have a lot to catch up on.”
Is he crazy? We aren’t BFFs reunited. “No,” I say.
“No?” Ezra laughs—that’s changed too. His laughter was always so free and full of joy despite his difficult home life. But now, it’s short and clipped. “What do you mean, no ?”
“I mean, I’m working and you’re here for a job. This isn’t a high school reunion. You missed that. It was in July.” I missed it too. No way would I have risked seeing him or bringing back all those memories.
I walk past him, toward the field where we have hundreds of trees lined up and planted, each row taller than the last.
“Maybe it wasn’t a planned one—but this is a reunion, that’s for sure.” He picks up his feet and follows after me.
I’m lurched to a halt as his warm hand slips into my own. Pins and needles prick through each of my fingers and up into my arm. So strange—I remember that touch well, and yet it’s as if I’m experiencing it for the first time all over again.
“You’ll have to talk to me eventually,” he says.
“Why?” I pull my hand from his and turn for the barn, my throat aching.
“I have questions about the restaurant. You can’t just—”
“Yes. Fine. We’ll talk. About the restaurant.” I drop my tense shoulders. “Leave the past in the past, Ezra. We’ve both moved on.”
He growls out something incoherent.
I lift the latch on the barn front and tug. But it’s Ezra who kicks the bottom right corner of the door. Dang . I forget that he knows all the ins and outs and tricks of this place too. Ezra and I worked here side by side for three years.
The door slides open with his kick knocking all the mechanisms into place—Don never saw a reason to fix it. It works, as long as you know how to help it along.
“Whoa, you haven’t cleaned this place out yet?” Ezra says, looking at the endless piles in the barn. “You have to get the shop set up soon.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve been here, okay? We know what we’re doing.”
But he’s not completely wrong. Gene bailed on me. He was supposed to help me transplant all summer but left for Nashville two months earlier than planned. He’s promised us that when he makes it big, he’ll mention us.
Gee, thanks, Gene.
“You need help.”
“I had help,” I snap. I’m angry and yet I’m not. Mostly, I don’t know what to do with him— here . He isn’t supposed to be here. He isn’t supposed to be anywhere near Mav Bennett. And selfishly, I hurt every time I look at him. That part of my life was supposed to be over. And it is—except that it’s also staring me right in the face at the moment. “My help left early, okay? We have some teens coming, but not for a few days. Don will help me when he gets back.”
“You can’t do this all on your own.”
I breathe in through my nose. I’m always on my own.
He leans against the wall of the barn, his eyes roving over me, studying me, like he might be seeing me for the very first time. “Autumn, I’m so sorry about your dad.”
Like a record cracking and screeching to a halt, my body goes rigid. Nope . We aren’t having this conversation.
“Go away, Ezra,” I tell him, that constant knot in my throat burning. I haven’t cried in years. I don’t plan to start today. I pick up two shovels and head toward my truck parked out back. Yes, I’m behind, but cleaning out the barn isn’t even on my agenda today.
I charge past him and toss the shovel and hoe in the bed of my truck, right next to the boxes and boxes of bare roots. I hop into the cab and lock the doors before he can think about jumping inside. Then, I’m off. Alone.
I’m transplanting at the complete other end of the farm, almost a mile out. He won’t follow. Not on foot. Not when he’s unsure of where I’m going. And I’ll be safely long gone before he has a chance to get in his car and follow.