4. AUTUMN
CHAPTER FOUR
AUTUMN
Be a good girl, Autumn. Do as your daddy says. That was my mother's constant refrain. Be a good girl, Autumn. Your daddy only wants what's best for you.
From the moment I could walk, my feet had been set on a path decided by my father, the world-renowned neurosurgeon Dr. Herman Landish.
His daughter could be nothing less than medical royalty herself.
So, I'd studied non-stop to earn straight As in school to appease him. My only breaks were when Jason Straw, son of the talented cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. Alexander Straw, took me out on pre-approved dates.
Jason and I were destined to become the next power couple in the field of medicine.
Except Jason struggled to get through med school, so a specialty like surgery was never going to happen.
Then, I convinced him to support my dreams of a family practice where we’d both be general practitioners.
Our parents hadn’t been thrilled about the step down from flashy surgical procedures, but at least we were doctors.
Then, we were husband and wife.
Following Father’s plan for my life to the letter.
Children were next, until I found Jason screwing one of our nurses.
That’s when I realized being a good girl got me nothing but pain and red-hot fury, because what the actual fuck? I did everything I was told to do. I did everything right.
And was still cheated on. Forced to leave the practice I practically built single-handed. Oh, and dismissed by my parents because I shouldn’t be so dramatic.
Fuck Jason, and fuck them!
I throw another dart at the wall in Hank’s Bar. It’s nowhere close to the bull’s eye, but the solid thud of pointy metal burying deep is comforting.
“Everything okay?” Davie asks cautiously from her place next to me. She rocks on her heels to better assess my slightly unhinged demeanor.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because I’m pretty sure if your ex’s picture hung there, rather than a dartboard, you’d be looking at a murder charge right about now. Want to talk about it?”
“I ran into your husband’s asshole friend,” I blurt out instead. It’s totally off-topic, but I really don’t want to talk about Jason’s latest stunt, so here we are.
“Briggs?”
Because there’s only one possible answer. Cormac’s other best friend, Deacon, is too much of a sweetheart to earn the insult.
“Yeah, the junkyard behemoth. Peeping Troublemaker. Caveman Extraordinaire. Take your pick.”
Davie shakes her head, her gaze narrowing in confusion. “That’s a lot of words that don't make sense. What happened?”
“I went to his rage park the other night, and he showed up,” I admit. “There should be a privacy clause in that contract he makes people sign. Smashing shit is basically therapy, which requires confidentiality, right? He definitely violated mine.”
“Uh-huh… So, are you mad that Briggs was watching you or still mad about whatever had you using his rage park in the first place?”
“Neither. Both. I don’t know.”
Davie hums in her throat.
“Briggs has trust issues with women. He’s even wary around me.
I can tell it bothers Cormac that there’s this rift between them because of our relationship.
Like Briggs apologized, and he had dinner with us the other night, which wasn’t awkward at all—” She raises her eyebrows comically, letting me know it was exactly the opposite of the words coming out of her mouth—”but it’s obvious he’s still struggling with…
something. Cormac hasn’t told me much about what his actual problem is, though. ”
“Probably too many to count,” I snark before taking a sip of my margarita. Damn, that’s delicious. If only I had a man half as sweet and just as strong. Maybe he’d help relieve me of all this… pressure I’ve been feeling lately.
“Come on.” Davie bumps her shoulder against mine. “He’s not that bad. Cormac wouldn’t put up with a complete asshole, and they’ve been friends forever. There must be something redeemable in there; he just keeps it hidden. Like a protective mechanism.”
“Davie, sweet Davie,” I sing-song, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. It’s a little awkward since we’re the same height, but we make it work. “So optimistic. So nice. Let me tell you where nice gets you.”
“Oh, lord, here we go again. How many margaritas have you had tonight?”
My flapping hand holds up two fingers. “Don’t distract me. I’m not drunk. I’m just warning you. From one good girl to another.”
“Does that title still apply when I married my sister’s baby daddy? Seems a bit hellion-ish to me,” she jokes, and she may have a point, but whatever. I’m set on my course now.
“Listen to Big Sister Autumn…”
“You realize I’m the eldest sister to Jessica, right? I already know the spiel about our plot in life. Always responsible, always—”
“Shh!” I cover her mouth with my palm, which is slightly sweaty. Fuck, it’s hot in here. “Don’t steal my thunder. As your honorary older sister, it’s up to me to impart my wisdom. You must avoid my mistakes at all cost!”
Sighing, Davie finally gives in and plops into her hightop chair.
With a swish of her hand to indicate I can start, I launch into The Evils of Being a Good Girl?, ?while the idea for a new list forms: The Benefits of Being a Bad Girl (copyright pending).
The more I expound on how being a good girl has gotten me nowhere fast, the more being bad begins to appeal.
My parents wouldn’t approve.
My ex-husband wouldn’t approve.
And suddenly, becoming a bad girl doesn’t seem so wrong…