Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Autumn
I stare at my phone, and if the darn thing weren’t so stupidly expensive, I might fling it out the window.
Meg : Is Dessie right?
Me : You can’t love someone you don’t even know.
Now, am I in love with the boy who left ten long years ago? Maybe. But that kind of love is a dream. A fantasy. One that breaks your heart and makes you pay for a very long time. One that I gave up and somehow survived. I’m not even sure what that love means anymore. Because—
Me : It’s been ten years, Meg. I don’t know who Ezra Bennett is anymore.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself—because it makes sense. It’s logical. And logic never pounded someone into the ground with overcharged emotions.
Me : So, no. Dessie is wrong .
Meg : Okay.
How can there be so much skepticism and disbelief in one written word? I can’t hear the tone in her voice, but I read her tone. She one hundred percent has a tone! And I need someone to believe me. How will I ever believe myself if Meg doesn’t believe me?
Me : Headed out. I can’t text anymore.
Meg : Where are you going? It’s ten p.m. your time.
Me : I just need to check on the saplings.
Meg : Now?
Me : Goodbye, worry wart. Go worry about your husband.
I just need some air. I need to think. And breathe—in the wide fresh air of the field. But the wind is supposed to pick up tonight, so the saplings are a great excuse. I really should cover them.
See? I didn’t just lie to my best friend to get out of a soul-crushing conversation.
I grab my denim jacket just before stepping outside. The chilled wind hits my face the minute I do. Fall in Wyoming is rarely sunshine and falling leaves. It’s more crazed wind slapping you in the face while most of the leaves are long gone, blown to Idaho.
I don't grab my truck or one of the four-wheelers. I need the quiet, time, and space to think, to breathe, to be alone, and to remember who I am.
I need the farm and not another thing. Not even my phone in my pocket, no human contact at all.
With the quiet and peace, only the rustling of the wind and outdoors, I clear my head. No bistro doubts. No oldest daughter responsibilities. No Ezra heartaches. Just me. Just the farm. My chest eases, releasing the tension that’s been built there over the past week. The confusion in my head settles. And I find an ounce of peace.
For thirty whole seconds.
“Autumn!”
Okay—my body had almost eased up on the stress and tension.
“Where are you going? It’s going to rain!” Ezra calls above the wisp of the wind.
I’m pretty sure I can get away with pretending I don’t hear him. It is very windy… anyone could mistake those calls for windy howls.
So, I keep walking. I keep breathing. I ignore Ezra and his threats of rain.
Until—
“Hey,” he says, breathless and right beside me. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a walk,” I say. “ Alone .”
“A walk? It’s going to rain.” He peers up at the sky and clouds.
“Then maybe you should go back inside. You might melt.” The crass words are out before I can think them through. They are shielding what’s left of my heart.
I don’t hate Ezra.
I don’t dislike Ezra.
I have no right to be angry with Ezra.
But harsh words and avoidance are all that’s saving me from a second Ezra Bennett apocalypse.
“What are you actually doing?”
“I’m checking on the saplings. It’s a one-woman job, so you can go back to your nice, warm Airbnb.”
Ezra groans, running a hand through his hair. “You stubborn girl. That hasn’t changed. That’s for sure.”
I stop in my tracks—because while logic tells me I’m not truly angry with him, I feel it, so I use it. And maybe my anger is justified, because Ezra believing he can judge my character after days of being back on the farm pisses me off.
Ezra isn’t fazed by my glare though. “Why not take the truck?”
My chest fills with air and exits in a tired sigh. “If you must know, it’s been a week . A long, hard one. I need some air. And I need to be alone .”
He studies my face. “Why are you doing this, Autumn?”
“Why do you care, Ezra?”