Chapter 20
brANDON
“True love.” It’s the truth, but I cringe hearing myself say it, especially out loud for someone else to hear or for her to hear. I’m not sure how I expected Autumn to react, but it wasn’t her sitting in silence. Shit. “I knew I should have said a great ass.”
Her laughter bubbles over like champagne on New Year’s Eve. She reaches up, resting her hand on my bicep, which I promptly flex as she shakes her head. “Reach for the stars and hold out for both.”
“It’s the only logical thing to do.”
“Sure is.” She pushes off the mattress, landing back on her feet.
As she heads for the bathroom again, she says, “If I can hold out for Brad Pitt from Legends of the Fall days, you can wait for that perfect ass.” That’s my competition?
Way to set me up for failure, Brad. “I’m going to take a quick shower. ”
Just before the door closes, I ask, “Before or after the war?”
She pokes her head out with her eyebrows pulled together. My gaze drops to her bare legs. “What?”
“Brad Pitt in Legends. Are we talking about Brad before the war or after?”
Her smile reaches her eyes. “Before. Always before.” She shuts the door, leaving me wondering how fast I can grow my hair out and whether dying it blond will be worth it. I’m beginning to think my feelings for her are making me foolish enough to do such things.
I scrub a hand over my face, wondering what I’m supposed to be doing. Sitting here? I’ve snooped enough for one visit. Chuckling, I like the way I think I’ll be here again to snoop around a second time.
I lie down, tucking my hand behind my head.
Her bed’s not so bad despite how noisy it is.
With those springs, though, there’s no getting it on in here without the whole house hearing.
But that probably means she isn’t bringing anyone else home, either, and that makes me feel better.
I pat the mattress as if it’s got my back.
I’m still not sure why I was brought over here, but she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.
I close my eyes, searching the inside of my eyelids for some of the rest I’m still in need of.
I didn’t want to whine to Autumn, but she’s hell-bent on staying unconfirmed on how we will continue, whether purely professional or flirting with temptation.
The water still runs, becoming the background to slumber as my breathing slows and the orange behind my lids begins fading.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” The sweet melody is only a whisper, but the siren’s call pulls me from a deep sleep until I open my eyes. “Hi.”
Turning to the side, I’m met with soft orange curls encircling pretty pastures of green eyes staring back at me. I smile. “Hi.”
But it’s the room beyond her that has me waking up faster. I sit up. “I fell asleep.”
“You did.” Autumn sits up, then slips off the other side of the mattress. “I’m all ready. Are you?”
“What are we supposed to be ready for exactly?” I scrub a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the last of the nap that dragged me down. “All you’ve said is errands. I get that you needed clothes and we need some groceries, but why does my intuition tell me there’s a grander plan in motion?”
“Because there is.” Nodding toward the door, she says, “Come on.”
I get up and rub my shoulder to ease the twinge. She grabs her bag and is out the door when I stop to take one last look around. Nothing is particularly out of the ordinary for what I’d expect from a girl’s room, but she’s not a girl anymore. She’s a woman who’s outgrown this space.
Dolly greets us when we come down the stairs, holding a photo for me to take. “I wanted to show this to you.”
The photograph has yellowed a bit with age, and the edges have seen better days, but the two kids are unmistakable.
The girl and her red hair, the boy in his blue suit with matching bow tie, sitting together on these very stairs.
The lighting isn’t great, but as they look down, the girl with a daisy in her hand, I can remember the exact day.
I remember the girl, sitting on the stairs with tears in her eyes.
I take the photo and hold it for a closer look, my chest tightening and a lump forming in my throat as I stare at her. “I remember you.”
“You do?” Autumn moves closer to me, her eyes volleying between mine as she waits for answers.
“That day. I remember sitting here with you after the funeral.” I glance down the hall. “People from town had crowded the living room and overflowed from the kitchen. People were cooking on barbecue pits in the yard, and the littler kids were running around playing tag.”
Wrapping her fingers delicately around my wrist, she nods with tears in her eyes.
I look at Dolly over Autumn’s shoulder, giving her a shared smile that holds the somberness of that day, and a gratefulness for giving me some memories back.
My throat feels dry, making swallowing too difficult, let alone speaking.
I hand the photo back to her and give my own nod, which seems to be all I’m capable of right now.
She reaches over, wrapping her hand over the top of mine. “You brought such great comfort to our little Autumn that day. I never had a chance to thank you.” She holds my gaze, and adds, “Thank you, Brandon. I hope to see you around more often.”
“Daniel is due home soon and plans to be here for a week.”
“You don’t have to save up your visits for when he’s here.” Dolly rubs Autumn’s shoulder before walking to the living room. “You can stop by anytime.”
When I look at Autumn, the tears that hung heavily in the corners of her eyes have cleared, but they still glisten like glass over the surface, brightening those greens like summertime grass. She says, “You’re always welcome here.”
I look toward the front door and the large stained glass window beside it, running my hand through my hair, trying to think back. “I can’t seem to remember why I stayed away so long.”
Rubbing my back to pull my gaze back to her, she inhales a shuddering breath and raises her chin with a renewed certainty set in her stance. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
“Why am I here again?”
“I want to show you something.” She opens the door with her bag in hand. “Bye, Dolly.”
“Bye, dear!”
We step outside into the midday sunshine and gallop down the steps. Autumn drops her bag on the bottom step and says, “It’s out here.”
The water is still choppy, but the breeze blowing through keeps the temperature comfortable.
Summer might be over, but we’re not fully committed to fall just yet.
That could go for the woman as well. Though I’m working on it.
I grin like a fool crossing the lawn as we head for the trees.
“Do you know how valuable this property is now that the developers have started snapping up land all along the coastline?”
“Yes, and we’re never selling.”
The sun shines off her hair, and the breeze exposes the constellation of freckles across her neck again.
I hadn’t realized until now that she’s not dressed for work.
“No scrubs?” A pale-pink skirt hits mid-thigh, revealing a little color from summer, but I doubt she spends her days tanning like some of the women do at the docks.
She’s trim and has some muscular definition, but is not a gym rat by any means.
The tank top fits like a glove, showing off her great figure.
Perky tits that aren’t too much for her frame and just enough for my hand, slender waist highlighted by white stripes of fabric going down the sides.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she smiles up at me. “What do you keep looking at?” Her cheeks are a perfect match to her outfit.
“You.”
She stops, dropping her mouth open, and stares at me. “You can’t just say ‘you,’ Brandon.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s just . . .” She looks out at the water as if she needs time for a better comeback. The pursing of her lips makes me think she didn’t think of one. “You have an entire ocean over there fighting for your attention, and you’re choosing to stare at me. How am I supposed to react to that?”
With a shrug, I pop a frown before straightening my mouth again. “I don’t know why you’re asking me. Seems you already figured out how you’re going to react.”
Tugging her lips to one side, she stares at my chest for several seconds before lifting her gaze again.
“I don’t even know if we’re friends again, and here you are saying things that have my pulse beating faster.
” She starts walking toward the trees but keeps her arms flailing around to help her speak.
“It’s so nice, but I don’t know if that’s what friends say to each other, or if that’s more of something said to someone you date.
Or want to date. It’s all so confusing. I don’t know what to think about you.
” She glances to her side but does a double take and turns back to find me where she left me standing.
And all I can do is stare at her with the word “again” making patterns in my brain as if memories were once attached to it. “Why are you still standing there?”
Coming back, she stops in front of me. Curiosity wrangles her expression as she asks, “What? What is it?”
“You said you don’t know if we’re friends again. That tells me we were once but aren’t anymore.”
“I said I don’t know if we are because we’ve been friendly this week.”
“No. You said again. Again insinuates we weren’t, but are now. Again.”
The grass is trimmed short, but her sneakers still sink into it.
She looks down like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
Her head finally pops back up. “It was a slip of the tongue. That’s all.
We don’t have to read that much into it.
” She walks away when another breeze blows in, returning to her original path.
“I really wanted to show you that place I mentioned.”
I start walking, but a sinking feeling in my gut weighs down each step I take. We’ve circled the topic of us several times now, and we—no, I get no closer to getting answers than when I was laid up in the hospital not knowing who she was at all.
As much as she wants me to let this go, I don’t think I can any longer. I follow her into the woods and cut through the trees as she heads for a clearing up ahead. The trees become scarce as we break through to a little field of flowers and tall grasses.
It’s just as she described.
Autumn walks to the edge that heads toward the water and says, “This is where we used to sit. We’d make halos of daisies and wear them on our heads as we ate lunch and daydreamed together.”
I come to stand a few feet away. The woods protect the small field like each tree is standing guard. “I can see why it was so special.”
“It still is.” Nodding toward the far side, she says, “The honeybees live in a field up there.” When she looks out to the near distance, not pointing, I still follow her gaze. “My parents are buried over there.”
I’m not a father, though I’d like to be one day. I can’t imagine what these four girls went through losing their parents. She doesn’t shed any tears, but my heart aches knowing they must have cried oceans in the years since.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know you’ve heard that probably too many times, but I’m sorry about your parents.”
Hiking through the flowers, she comes back to me with a grin that only sincerity can create.
“I didn’t bring you here to make you sad.
I brought you here to share a part of what makes me happy.
” She spins with enough room to hold her arms out, tilting her head back and closing her eyes to soak in the sunshine.
When she slows, she lowers her arms and says, “Isn’t it the most beautiful? ”
I release a long breath, knowing I can’t push her on something she clearly doesn’t want to talk about while we’re here.
I won’t be the one to ruin her favorite place.
And looking at her now, fuck, anytime I look at her, I only see her beautiful heart shining through.
So if she’s not telling me something, it’s probably for the best. “The most beautiful.”
She nods, pleased that I agreed. “I’m glad you like it.”
“The field’s not bad either.”
Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I have a few ideas.”
“I just bet you do.” She weaves her way back through the trees again but stops and pats one. “You remembered me from my sister’s wedding the other day, but do you remember anything else from it?”
“Is this a trick question?”
With a scoff, she puts her hand on her hip.
“No. We once talked about a carving in this tree. We didn’t know what it meant, but you said you did.
Summer and Daniel were called to cut the cake, and a lot of drinking followed.
The newlyweds never got around to asking about it again, and I’d forgotten until now.
” I look up at the tree to see CS #7 carved roughly into the trunk.
“I think it’s safe to say it’s my dad’s initials, but do you still remember what the seven stands for by any chance? ”
I run my finger over the carving that’s aged with the tree and become forever a part of it. I can still see the image in the trophy showcase that I used to pass on the way to the locker room every day of high school. “Yeah. It stands for Charlie Season number seven.”
“My dad?”
Lowering my arm, I look down at Autumn, who has her eyes glued to the carving as if she’s seeing her dad himself. When her gaze pivots to me, she asks, “How do you know that?”
“Because before I broke state records as quarterback, your dad did. The number on his football jersey is seven. It was officially retired when he passed away and hangs in a case at the high school.”
“Will you take me there?”