Chapter 11
AUTUMN
Ithought I’d thrown out the old emotions that had bogged me down for so many years, but boy, did they come barreling back with the mere mention of a date.
Shoving my hand in my pocket, I rub the pad of my thumb over the token and take a few sobering breaths to pull myself together and remember who I am. I’m a Season. We don’t run away from our problems. We face them head-on.
Sometimes I think I can still hear my dad’s voice, the little pep-talk phrases he’d toss out when he knew we needed to hear them.
A talented former football player given four girls to coach through life .
. . or at least that’s how it should have been.
He and my mom should still be here. They were good and caring, their hearts wide open to help anyone in need, and us.
I stare out the window, spotting leaves determined to change early, intermingling with evergreens, reminding me that seasons of life change just as the trees do.
How long has it been? Twelve years since I heard their voices, since I last saw them, and was wrapped up in a warm hug that enveloped me in my mother’s scent.
I was fourteen and “too big for hugs,” pulling away too soon.
If only I could go back for one more of her hugs.
I miss my parents so much that the hole in my heart only grows bigger instead of healing.
Healing . . . Brandon. I’m here for him. Either I can do this job or I can’t, but this in-between isn’t going to cut it.
Releasing a breath, I drop the offense that tensed my shoulders and go to check on him. I don’t know why I suddenly feel nervous, but I bite my lip and enter the living room. “Brandon?”
The couch is empty and the kitchen vacant.
I look at the front door and find it still bolted.
The wind whistles, pulling my attention to the glass door that’s cracked open.
I walk with care, not wanting to bother him if he needs a break from me, which would be understandable from my earlier reaction.
Embarrassment bites into my stomach. So unprofessional.
Reminding myself he’s only a patient is turning out harder than expected.
We have history, and it’s frustrating that he can’t remember it.
If he did, we could talk through things, lay everything out, and deal with it.
Instead, I’m bottling up old feelings like it’s my job. It’s not. Taking care of him is.
I find him on the large deck out back, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his spine nice and straight, putting him at his full height.
Broad shoulders span wider than I remember from high school, but it’s the way his muscles flex from the minutest of movements that keeps my eyes glued to them.
I was always a sucker for a great body, and his isn’t just great.
It’s incredible, easily rivaling the landscape beyond him as the more spectacular view.
I crack the door open. The screech of the hinges draws his eyes over his shoulder to me.
He turns away again before I have a chance to step outside.
When I do, I take another breath to brace myself for the affront I deserve and come to stand next to him.
Keeping my eyes ahead, I try to give him the room he needs without fully invading it with my feelings.
Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on the wide wood railing and looks over at me.
“This isn’t going to work.” I open my mouth to protest but shut it to allow him to say what he needs.
It doesn’t stop the bitter swallow that makes this feel like a breakup.
“I’m an easygoing guy, and usually I get along with everyone.
But you . . .” He looks out toward the ocean with the gradient layer of clouds hovering over it.
I love seeing it from this new perspective.
I just wish it was under better circumstances.
His gaze shoots my way. “I can’t get a read on you.
Sometimes you smile like this isn’t the worst job you’ve ever been on, and other times, it’s like you’ve been sentenced to the guillotine.
But sandwiched among those extremes, you seem to fluctuate between aggravation, anger, and a comfort that only comes from knowing someone.
We don’t know each other, so you see why it’s a mindfuck for me to figure out what’s going on. ”
I take in the words, but it’s his eyes that tell me what I needed to hear.
A sincerity I didn’t expect shines bright.
“I can see why that’s confusing. That’s a lot of emotions.
” I don’t turn away despite the urge to do so.
My gut tells me to fight through my needs and keep eye contact with him.
“I’m sorry. I’ve not made this easy. There’s stuff in my life that I carried onto this job and have taken out on you.
” Was it a long time coming? Maybe, but that wasn’t the time to lose my cool.
“You didn’t deserve me taking it out on you earlier. ”
“Listen, Autumn, you said it’s your first time doing this kind of work, so I don’t mind you learning on the job.
I’m learning not only to be a good patient so I heal properly but also to be patient with myself.
All that while giving up some of the control I’m so used to having and handing it to you.
” He stands to face me, dropping his arms to his sides.
“I appreciate the apology, but you sharing what’s on your mind helps me get a better understanding of what’s going on.
We all have shit to overcome, so don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s a journey.”
My heart squeezes, but I manage to keep the tears at bay. I want to hate him as much as I always have, but he’s making it hard to keep clinging to the pain he caused years ago. Why do I keep holding it over his head like it happened yesterday? How much pain was it really anyway?
We were sixteen, hardly a thing, and nothing more than a promise. Is it that he killed the possibility or ruined the fantasy I had built in my head of how it was supposed to turn out? Probably both.
But looking at him now, I’m finally seeing things more clearly. I played a role in our past, willingly or not. It’s my reaction that shaped it, just like it did in our interaction a little while ago.
Swaying to the side, I lean my hip against the rail and grin. “You’re letting me off easy when I really don’t deserve it.”
A devastating smile slides onto his face when he looks at me, causing my knees to betray me by weakening. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Autumn.”
I tighten my grip on the wood, still daring to look straight at him. “Do they? Even if they hurt you?”
He nods, returning his gaze to the mountain in the distance.
“Especially those who hurt you. That hurt came from somewhere. Or was it an unintended consequence of a poor choice? We all make them at some time or another.” Glancing at me, he adds, “But that’s the last chance they’re being given, so they better not blow it.
” The slightest of grins still stands, but I see the resolution in his eyes. “Know what I mean?”
He would offer me more than I’ve been able to offer him in all the years I’ve known him.
A second chance. A clean slate. “I know what you mean.” I look at the ocean so far away, trekking the coastline until I lose the water and the part of the cove where I live to the mountain.
My heart pangs, wishing it could bring me the comfort I so need right now.
It’s beautiful here, but I’m a fish out of water in his territory.
“A fresh start.” That’s not what I’ve given him, although I thought I had.
I just hope he gives me the opportunity this time.
“I know we tried this once before, but what do you say we start over again?”
“I don’t need to give you a second chance,” he says. I do owe him the truth about our past, even if he doesn’t think so quite yet. He will. When and how that information will be revealed is yet to be determined.
“I was hoping you’d do me the favor for how I reacted.”
“Nah.” He chuckles under his breath. “We’re just getting comfortable. There are bound to be slipups.”
I grin into the wind as if I can hide it from him. He nudges me with his elbow. “Since I’m up and I got you out here, do you mind looking me over? I’m having trouble checking out my back in the mirror.”
“It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it. Turn.” I drop my gaze to the deck and slide up his backside when he’s not looking. When did Brandon Culver grow into this… this… this model of a man? I bite my bottom lip and study his spine.
“Thanks for taking on the dirty work.” He chuckles louder this time, more carefree, allowing some room for humor to return.
“It’s why I’m paid the big bucks.” His eyes shoot to mine over his shoulder. “I’m not paid big bucks, for the record.” I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it's sadly true. Laugh so I don’t cry. “As a first responder, you probably relate too well.”
“If it did pay the big bucks, what would you do with the money?”
Trailing over every rise and fall of his body’s topography, I reside on the bruising a bit longer. I study the edges, looking for the blurriness I like to see during the healing process. I reach forward but stop, and ask, “Do you mind if I touch your spine?”
“You can touch me.” Despite it sounding like an invitation, I run the tip of my finger from his neck to his lower spine, keeping the pressure light but with enough to find any pain. There’s no wincing and no reflexive flexing under my touch.
“You’re healing nicely, Brandon.”
“I like being Brandon with you over the alternative.”
“Mr. Culver?”
Turning around, he grips the railing behind him. “Yeah. But if you prefer the more formal, I’ll let you call me Lieutenant.”
I balk before a tidal wave of laughter swells and rolls through me.
“You’ll let me?” Snickering, I reply, “Got it, Lieutenant Culver.” The sound of it brings images of him dressed like Maverick in Top Gun—shirtless while playing volleyball on the beach and a flight suit with aviator glasses.
Long overdue desire runs through me at warp speed, reaching my breasts and perking my nipples.
I cross my arms over my chest to hide the physical reaction I’m having to him while questioning what the heck is happening.
It’s Brandon Culver, for Pete’s sake. Of all the men to be turned on by, this is an unexpected turn of events, and not welcome.
“Can I ask you something personal?” Oh my God! He can tell. He rights himself again, rubbing his hand over his injured shoulder. “You can say no.”
“No,” I snap in a panic, walking away from him to hide whatever kind of reaction I’m having to him. I’m positive I don’t want to get more personal than what’s already occurring.
“Okay,” he replies, sounding more injured than I found him at the hospital. “Sorry for—”
He’s not responsible for turning me on. Well, technically he is, but he doesn’t know he did.
Does he? What is wrong with me? He’s a patient, not my personal fantasy come to life.
Oh geez. Get your mind out of the gutter and cover your butt.
“I’m just joking. Ha. Ha. Ha.” I fake laugh, struggling to find a smile in this mess and now freaking out that he could ask me anything and I’ve said it’s okay.
Oh Lordy. “You can ask, but no promises I’ll answer. ”
“That’s fair.” The smile that seems to come easy to him most of the time falters, but his eyes on me never do. “What’s your last name?” Oh, thank God.
“Season.” I think about possible implications of him knowing this, still surprised he didn’t know it already. But I’m not going to hide who I am, and a conversation about my name beats talking about my traitorous nipples. And what if it helps him remember? This could be a good thing.
“Autumn Season?” The wide eyes and lifted brow, the gaping mouth—Yep, this is the typical reaction, so I wasn’t expecting less. “Next you’re going to tell me your sisters are—”
“Yes, we’re all the seasons. I’m the second oldest.”
A rapid blink breaks the eye contact, and his jaw has fallen to the deck. I lift it back into place, and ask, “Any more questions?” Please don’t let there be more… like why I’m acting absurd for no apparent reason.
“Nope. I think that does—wait, yeah, I have one more.” I was soooo close but nope. Mr. Observant won’t let this go.
Tightening my hold over my chest, I raise my chin, ready to be outed by him.
“I’m an open book.” I suck in a quick breath because I’m not ready despite my display of bravado.
Surely, it can’t get worse than him finding out I just got turned on by images of him dressed up as Top Gun. Right? “Ask away.”
“How is it that you know one of my closest friends and my mom, but we’ve never met?”
Welp. It just got worse.