Chapter 13
AUTUMN
“I’ve gotten every one of them right.” Brandon holds a card, flipping it around to show me a purple walrus. “You want to keep going?”
“I want to keep going. Now pick another.” He scans the cards on the coffee table, face down, and obliges without argument.
I think he likes playing games as much as I do.
It may be a kid’s game, but every victory strokes his ego.
I want to laugh, but it’s kind of cute how proud he is of himself when he matches the right card.
It’s also a great sign for his brain injury.
Concussions are classified on the milder side but can have lasting effects.
Each win runs deeper than just an ego boost where I’m concerned.
Tapping the top corner card, he says, “This one.” I lift it to face him. His grin is wide as the Hamburglar’s after snatching another burger. “Who says I have memory issues?”
“Apparently all the doctors, but what do they know?” I joke with a playful shrug. “Anyway, I’m calling it as I see it. That was a lucky guess.” I give him a little insider’s wink. “Go again, please.”
“Want to wager on how lucky I am?”
Shock steals the joy that I was just getting comfortable with. “You want to bet on a game of Memory?”
A lopsided grin also pushes up his brow on one side. “What do you have to lose?”
“Depends on what’s on the line.”
He shrugs with an air of confidence, flexing his hard—so hard—earned muscles.
He’d be less distracting with a shirt, but it’s his mirthful grin that I’ll remember when I think about this later.
How does he manage to look like that and be so charming?
He’s going to be the death of me, damn him.
“C’mon, Autumn, why not make it interesting? ”
Redirecting my gaze, I straighten two of the cards. “It’s pretty interesting on its own.”
“I bet you hate to lose.”
I scoff. “Who loves to lose?” When he doesn’t snap back with a reply, I look up at him again. “What?”
“I’m not the best loser, but I’m not sore over it.”
“I’m not sore either. I’m not even playing a game right now, and I haven’t agreed to a wager.
” Pointing at him, I narrow my gaze, though restraining my smile is a whole other challenge.
“Do you really think that reverse psychology will work on me?” I laugh, sounding more like Dr. Evil than myself.
Guess he brings out my villainous side. “You’re messing with a pro, buddy. ”
His shoulders rattle when he chuckles with a pain-free expression. He’s making progress both physically and mentally, and doesn’t even realize it.
“Fine.” Another laugh escapes him before quieting with concentration on the task at hand. “We won’t bet.” He turns a card over, revealing a tiger. “Hey, Autumn?” I look up again, meeting the warmth of his eyes with the dashing little crinkles at the corners. “I’m having a good time with you.”
Forty-eight hours ago, I didn’t think he was capable of sweetness.
I considered him an irredeemable jerk. But now, my chest blooms with warmth, and I blush when he stares into my eyes for longer than a second.
Even his smile feels secretive, like it was made just for me, and he talks like this job will never end.
Like this is how it will always be between us.
Bricks of my foundation were cemented by my hatred of him. For years, they stood the test of time, but in less than two days, they’re crumbling faster than I can repair the damage. Good thing I don’t want to. I really do like this cute side of him. “You are?”
“Yeah. It should be dorky, but you make it interesting.”
I’ve been trying so hard to keep things professional, but today has completely detoured me from my original route. Now I’m off in la la land like we’re friends and having fun. “I’m having a good time, too.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.” Tapping the table between us, I say, “Find your tiger.”
“I think I already have.” I glance up to find a roguish grin that melts the rest of my cold heart toward him.
It’s not the words that make me feel special.
It’s the look that makes me think he’s sharing a secret with me.
Being near him is a roller coaster of emotions, from the peak of thrills to the drop into the valley of trust issues I have after being burned.
My guard is barely hanging on because Brandon has me second-guessing whether I even need the protection, making this situation much less predictable.
What am I supposed to think when he’s being so nice?
When he takes a drink of his iced tea, his eyes stay on me. Setting the glass on the coaster, he runs a finger down the condensation, forcing the water to pool at the base. “Were we ever friends, Autumn?”
My immediate reaction is to be polite and tell him we were, but reassuring him with a lie isn’t right. So I stick to the shores of truth instead. “We were friends when we were younger. Do you remember where the tiger is hiding?”
He taps a card lying dead center. I flip it over and smile, impressed by his skills. Glancing up at him, I catch him looking away as if he’d been caught. “You’re very good at this game.”
“According to the game, my memory is just fine.”
“It was more for the concussion, but yes, your memory is very good when it wants to be and not so good when it comes to me.”
He chuckles, staring at me like I’m a riddle he can’t figure out. “Trust me, I desperately want to remember you.”
“Desperately, huh?” My grin fires fast because he doesn’t own all the stock on smirks.
I try to tame it by biting my lower lip.
“Pick another card.” Turning over a penguin, he looks pleased and immediately reaches for the corner card.
“You’re a little too good. I’m starting to think you rigged this game somehow. ”
“It’s not the challenge you thought it’d be?”
“You’re definitely challenging.” His laughter is heartier as I lounge back in the chair, wrapping my arms behind my head for support.
“Touché.”
“It may be hard to believe, but I don’t want you to struggle, Lieutenant.”
“What do you want, Nurse?”
His sincerity sends a flush of heat through my abdomen.
He licks his lips, and my nipples perk up again.
No. No. No. No. I pop to my feet, needing a distraction from feelings that should most definitely not be growing fonder.
“Music. We should turn on some music or the TV.” I grab the remote since it’s closest and click on the TV before tossing it in the chair and rushing toward the kitchen.
“And a snack.” I only glance back out of curiosity and catch his eyes wide and latched onto me.
“I’m starving. You?” I gulp, opening the fridge door and bending down to escape the connection that followed me in here.
“I could eat.”
Why does that sound more like an invitation than an answer to my question?
God, I’m reading too much into everything now.
I roll my eyes while fanning the cold air across my face.
Warmth still kisses my cheeks, so I stand and pluck the front of my shirt to cool down.
Dipping my fingers into the opening at the top of my shirt, they slide against the slick, heated skin.
I grab a can of beer and roll it over my chest and up my neck, closing my eyes and tilting my head back for full exposure, hoping to calm my racing heart as well.
“Help yourself if you want one.”
The can tumbles from my hand, landing hard on the floor and rolling across the tile, only stopping when it runs into his foot. Bending down, he picks up the dented can that looks ready to explode and sets it in the sink.
My chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and I drag my fingers over my lower lip, not bothering to look away from him or his incredible body this time. “I don’t want a beer.”
“What do you want?”
I bite down on my finger, and my mind goes right where I tried to keep it from traveling.
The gutter, a.k.a. the bedroom, and the possibilities of what this man could do for me.
To me. Gah! It’s been so long since someone looked at me like I matter, and even longer since I felt the satisfaction that only comes from a physical connection.
I squeeze my eyes closed to erase those images.
Snap out of it! He’s your patient, Autumn!
Turning away from him because that is the only logical way to control myself, I’m met with a block of cheese staring back at me. I grab it from the fridge and say, “Cheddar.”
“You want cheddar?”
Grabbing the mustard along with it, I nod. “Yes.” With a task to do, I can look at him again. Keep it professional by doing my job and feed the man. Easy peasy. “Do you have crackers?”
But the heat we exchanged through our earlier gazes still flickers in his irises, reflecting mine. His lips part, and he runs his tongue over the bottom one. Teasing. Tempting. A heavy breath fills his chest, and he says, “Pantry. Second shelf from the top.”
Look at him. So confident and cocky, sexy and . . . I bite my lip. Couldn’t he at least be an asshat like I thought he was? Nope. He’s nice, too. Dammit.
I move to the pantry, thankful for the excuse to turn away from this god among mere mortal men, trying to remember the lines I’d be crossing if I ever acted on any of my reactions to him.
I can’t let that happen. Ludlow has it out for me at the hospital.
He’d be happy to ruin my reputation by telling people I seduce my patients, ending my career here in the Cove.
Dolly would be so proud to have me walk around with a scarlet letter, metaphorically speaking.
Especially if it were earned from a bad-girl reputation.
She still jokes about her younger, wilder days.
Grinning, I grab the crackers, finally calm enough to face him as if I have pulled myself together again. Fake it till you make it, baby. “Got it.”
“You sure do.” He turns but doesn’t walk away. Looking over his shoulder, he rubs the back of his neck, and says, “I’m having a hard time figuring out what happened between the two of us.”
“Same.” Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that out loud, but in the here and now, holding on to a grudge for all these years seems like such a waste of time.
We could have been friends if I’d let my guard down.
If I had the nerve to confront him, to hold him accountable instead of running away, this hatchet could have been buried a long time ago.
I know the anger I carried served a purpose. It’s just hard to imagine what that might have been other than guarding my heart so tight that I overcompensated by keeping everyone else out as well.
“Who said anything happened?” I stand there with a box of saltines in one hand and a block of cheese in the other as if this is the meet-cute we didn’t have.
What am I expecting from Brandon? For him to confess his undying love from sophomore year, or that he fucked up and regrets every day we’ve been apart?
That kind of stuff only happens in the movies. Our lives are nothing but a black hole we need to fill in all over again. It’s an opportunity, not a negative.
He faces me, giving me a good look at him. The swelling beside his eye is gone, leaving behind a tiny scab and some minor bruising. “I don’t know you that well, Autumn, but I know enough to wonder how I fucked up so badly that you’re no longer in my life.”
“Everyone fucks up, remember?” To bear witness to the magnetic smile that shapes his mouth brings mine to the surface. “You’ve been up a lot. You rest, and I’ll bring you a snack.”
His eyes are fixed on mine for a steady count to five.
I shouldn’t have held my breath, but strangely enough, it felt like the only way to survive the intensity of his stare.
He returns to the living room, giving me room to breathe and to reason through the absurdity of how in the hell I’m so attracted to my enemy.
Enemy?
Pfft. I’m realizing right quick that he hasn’t been my enemy for a long time, if he ever was at all.
Hate wasn’t even a word I used until today, and I realize it’s because it wasn’t viable.
It’s an extreme that made it easier for me but was the lie I was still telling myself.
I peek over the peninsula and ask, “Do you like mustard on your crackers?”
“I like mustard.”
I place the crackers on a cutting board, the only large platter-like piece I can find in his kitchen.
I squirt a little splat of mustard on each cracker and top it with a small square of cheese.
It takes a few minutes to figure out he doesn’t have napkins, so I grab paper towels and take the tray.
I don’t get two steps out of the kitchen when I stop.
Brandon is fast asleep.
He’s not snoring, but his chest falls into a rhythm with each breath and exhale. Rest is good, I remind myself, but a round of disappointment is still the losing hand I have laid down.
Between the game of Memory and traveling down memory lane, I got caught up in what he showed me instead of keeping his healing at the forefront.
I lost track of the real situation. He still has healing to do.
I need to remember that before jumping from one thing to the next and expecting him to keep up.
I set the board in the fridge to keep it fresh, but popped a cracker in my mouth before I closed the door.
No matter how delicious the bite was, I made them to distract us from what’s starting to feel like the inevitable.
The truth will come out, one way or another, so I can only hide for a short time.
And it’s that time, the minutes and hours we have being us without any baggage, that I’m desperately trying to hold on to.
I tiptoe to the chair and sink back in, curling my legs under me and watching a couple from Nebraska make their Chicago home-buying dreams come true.
It doesn’t hold my attention. Not with him sleeping next to me.
My gaze drifts back to the couch and the man who has come into my life so unexpectedly and flipped it upside down.
With my gaze on him, calm washes through me. I cuddle up with the pillow and rest my head on it, each blink becoming heavier, until I don’t bother resisting any longer.