Chapter 14
brANDON
Autumn’s red hair flares like fire in the golden sunlight as it dips into the horizon.
Moving with care, she holds the phone in her hand in front of her as she paces a path on my decking.
I’m not sure who she’s talking to, but I watched a myriad of emotions, including her eyes widening and her feet stopping as she seemed to absorb whatever was said.
She laughed right after, so I assume it’s not too serious.
I even witnessed a quick shift from somberness to contentment when she faced away from the house.
I haven’t wanted to interrupt her. It’s good she feels at home enough to call whoever she’s been talking to.
The change in her body language, the visual ease of her shoulders that matched her posture earlier during the game.
It’s clear she’s close to the person on the other end of the line.
Her sisters? Her grandmother? A friend? A closer friend with benefits?
That’s not something I considered once I saw there was no ring on her finger, but no ring doesn’t mean she’s not taken. Shit . . . Guess I should have asked.
Does it make a difference? Not to my recovery, but absolutely to the fun I’ve been having with her. I don’t poach girls. I like my women to be into me like I am into them. That means fully, with no strings attached.
I shove the lasagna in the oven to reheat and set the timer. When I look out the windows again, the phone is on the railing, and her focus is not on it. I walk outside, feeling bold enough to reclaim the space and her attention. “Hey there.”
She turns back. “You’re up?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
“I’m sorry—”
“For what?”
A sweet smile slips across her lips. “I’m here to take care of you, Brandon. I wouldn’t have been making personal calls if I knew you were awake.”
Coming to rest my arms on the railing, I reply, “This isn’t a nine-to-five where you clock in and clock out.
I’m not holding you to some strict regimen or reporting you to the home healthcare police.
It’s okay for you to make phone calls, take a nap, or have a shower.
I’d prefer you treat yourself more like a guest than an employee. ”
“I appreciate that, but I want to be as—”
“As professional as you can. I get it. I get it.” I exhale a sigh. Convincing her to relax wasn’t on my agenda, but it’s moved up a list I didn’t know existed to priority number one. “You are professional without being unapproachable. It’s nice.”
With a little elbow, she says, “That’s a very kind thing to say.” Dragging the phone closer to her, she taps the screen to show a field of flowers as her background wallpaper. “Time is slipping by. I didn’t realize the hour.”
“It flies when you’re having fun.” I grin, evoking one from her as well. “Where was that photo on your phone taken?”
“My family’s property down on the cove.” Her eyes glisten as if a memory is attached, carrying some hefty weight. “It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”
“Other than the beauty, why is that?”
Her gaze shifts into the treetops as a smile takes hold of her again.
“It brings me peace when everything is chaotic.” Angling her face toward me, she pockets the phone and tilts her head, letting her hair flow down over one shoulder.
“Everything in my life seems to be chaotic lately.” With an inward laugh, her gaze drops between us.
When she looks up again, she asks, “Do you really want to know this stuff? I’m really boring. ”
“You’re not boring at all to me. And I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested.”
Studying my face, she finally reaches my eyes again.
“My mom used to take me out there. We’d have picnics, just the two of us.
I could tell her anything without other people eavesdropping, which was common practice with all my sisters.
Everyone was in everyone else’s business.
We kind of still are. You know how siblings can be. ”
“My brother gave me hell growing up.”
That spark in her eyes tells me she gets it.
“Same. We love each other more than anything, but there were times I wished I was an only child. Once when I got a haircut while I was sleeping. Another time, I found my diary on my bed with a bookmark marking the page where someone left off.” Another laugh bubbles through her.
“They didn’t even try to hide the violation. But my mom always made me feel better.”
The punch to the gut comes fast when I remember her family. How did I not piece her and the Seasons together sooner? I feel sick for her. I turn toward the trees, watching the leaves blowing in the breeze, and whisper, “I’m sorry about your parents. I didn’t mean to bring up anything to upset—”
“You didn’t upset me. It upsets me more that nobody really brings them up anymore.
It used to be that we couldn’t go anywhere without someone, or a lot of people, stopping us to tell us stories about our parents that would bring a smile to their face, and ours.
We learned so much about them through the eyes of others.
But now, those voices have become a low hum like white noise.
It’s always there, but it’s hard to hear unless you’re listening for it. ”
“People probably assume you’ve heard it all and don’t want to make you sad by mentioning them.”
“It makes me sad thinking they’ve been forgotten with time.” She rubs her finger along her forehead and over one temple. “Or worse, the topic of them being tiptoed around like they never existed.”
“They’re not forgotten. Everyone remembers them fondly, Autumn.”
She rests her arms on the wood rail next to mine and taps her sneaker gently against my foot.
“Thanks. I like remembering them. I like talking about them.” Her smile is still there, but it’s for her and her parents the way its edges are tipped in softness.
She pulls something from her pocket and sets it on the wide rail between us.
“My mom gave this to me. She carried it for good luck.” She runs her finger over the raised metal of the bluebird.
It’s aged with a patina the way only years of exposure to life and the elements create, and the shiny belly of the bird from often rubbing it.
Peeking up at me, she says, “She gave it to me the day she died.”
A lot could be said about that last part, but I’m sure as shit not going to say it. I keep my eyes on the coin instead. “It’s nice you have it.”
“She called it her lucky bluebird but told me she wasn’t giving it to me for luck.
She was giving it to me as a reminder.” Grasping it in her hand, she closes her fingers around it and tucks it in her pocket.
“This is a lot. I, um . . .” She takes a long and slow breath.
It’s the minutest of nods, but I catch it as it satisfies a different emotion that almost took over.
“I think we should keep the focus on your healing, not mine.”
“Maybe we both walk away in a better place.”
Her smile shines, easily more beautiful than the setting sun, which is pretty damn spectacular.
“Anyway,” she says, “these flowers bloom near our house every spring and through the summer.”
“I know summer is over, but are they still blooming?”
“A few are still hanging on.”
I stand upright, rolling my shoulders to stretch my muscles. “Maybe you can show me before they’re gone.”
“I didn’t take you for a flower guy.”
“I’m not. I’m a get-to-know-Autumn guy.”
A pause begins to extend before she laughs and pokes me in the abs. “Your charms won’t work on me, Lieutenant.” Walking back to the house, she says, “I’m going to start dinner.”
“It’s already in the oven.”
Stopping, she looks back, impressed, judging by her raised brow and a slight grin hanging onto one side of her mouth. “You really are a charmer, but I’m here to take care of you, not the reverse.”
“You’re building it up too much. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“What are we having?”
Walking toward her, I reply, “Lasagna again. Hope you don’t mind leftovers.”
Her smile grows fast. “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s so good.” She starts for the door and opens it. “I need to ask Brenda for the recipe.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to share it with you.” I grab the door. She walks inside, and I follow her. I’m hit with the delectable scent of garlic and marinara filling the air when I enter the house again. My stomach growls, so I rub my hand over it. “I’m starving.”
“Hungry is a good sign.” She grabs the oven mitts I left on the counter just as the timer goes off.
I get plates from the cabinet while she takes the dish out of the oven, but stop when I realize how natural this is for us to move around in each other’s space.
There’s no pressure to perform or a feeling of walking on eggshells. It’s easy being with her.
Stripping the gloves from her hands, she says, “Your face is looking good.”
“A bit forward, Nurse, but I appreciate the compliment.” I send her a wink.
Her features flick through about fifty emotions before landing on humor again. “I was talking about the swelling and bruising. I’d like to get a closer look.”
“You don’t have to ask to do your job.”
“It’s only polite. It will just take a minute. I can examine you while the food cools from scalding to an edible temperature.” She starts for the living room, stopping next to the large windows.
Unsure what to do, I stand in front of her and let her ogle me. “How do you want me?”
The room is so quiet I hear her suck in a short breath before exhaling. “Stay just like that.” She runs a finger lightly over my shoulder, her gaze fixed on me. “I think we should remove the bandages and let you take a shower. How do you feel about that range of motion?”
I lift my arm. The slightest of pain slithers through my muscles, causing me to close my eyes and breathe through it. I open my eyes while lowering my arm again, and reply, “I should be fine.”