Chapter 21
AUTUMN
I’m still dumbfounded that the simplest answer was the right one.
The CS was easy to figure out. The number not so much, especially since the only one who knew anything about football was my dad.
Dolly claims to be a fan, but I think it’s more about the “cute” players, as she calls them.
So, it’s not so shocking we didn’t think about his high school football days.
I can’t wait to share this new intel with my sisters.
Nudging Brandon covertly under the edge of the tall counter, I shield my mouth from witnesses on the other side of it, and whisper, “I thought Mrs. Carson was eighty when we went to high school. How is she still working here?”
He eyes Mrs. Carson, who had a running joke back in the day that she’s worked here since Eisenhower. “Ready to have your mind blown?”
“I’m ready.” Any walls we were bumping into with each other have just about fallen completely, and everything has become so much easier. And fun. I smile so much around Brandon that my cheeks have ached the past few days. “Blow it, baby.”
He leans over and whispers in my ear, “She never worked here on staff. She volunteers.”
“What? Why would she want to work in this daily dose of fresh hell?”
Mrs. Carson levels me with a glare over the top of her glasses when she looks up from a cabinet in the back.
Grabbing the six-inch binder, she drops it in front of us with a thud that sends my hair flying off my shoulders.
I still can’t believe I’m back here, much less that I’m seeing familiar faces.
We spent our formative years in this high school, or what I like to call it—the scene of the crime when it comes to Brandon.
I remind myself that I’m maturing and letting it go. At least trying to.
With a lot more wrinkles than she did back then, I remember her always saying teenagers would age her beyond her years.
She’s not wrong. She taps the paper with a ballpoint pen, and says, “Sign in here, Autumn Season, and don’t forget to date it.
Also, make sure to stop by the office before you leave to sign out. ”
I’m not sure why everything is directed at me as if the six-foot-three-inch giant doesn’t exist next to me. I’m probably reading too much into it, though.
I swear if I flipped through a decade of the sheets tucked in this binder, I’d find old signatures of mine. I’d probably find my parents as well if I went digging. Apparently, Mrs. Carson has decided technology be damned.
After scribbling my signature, I hand the pen to Brandon. I look up to find Mrs. Carson still glaring at me like she’s offended by my mere presence. “So,” I say, resting my arm on the counter between us and hoping to break the cold-as-ice stare. “How have you been?”
“Busy trying to keep teenagers on the straight and narrow.” There’s no crack in her demeanor, no welcoming smile, or any indication that she even likes me.
Though I have no idea why she wouldn’t. I haven’t seen her in years.
And I was a good student, dammit. Every teacher liked me back then.
“I heard you ran into some trouble down at the hospital and were on your way out.”
My pulse is fast, my blood pressure rising.
Being blindsided wasn’t on my bingo card, but here we are with me desperate to keep my jaw from hitting the counter and smarting back.
Anger burns hot in my chest as I mentally flip through every imaginable employee who would snitch or knows anything about my situation at the hospital.
Stacy.
No way. She would spread rumors or, in this case, truths.
Debbie, the other daytime nurse?
I don’t take her for being cruel. She’s always been so nice to me, at least to my face.
Joyce or Carrie from critical care?
It’s not like the entire hospital knows what happened between Ludlow and me. So I don’t know what she’s heard or how she’s privy to that information, and I don’t care. But I do care what Brandon thinks of me. And the last thing I want to do is embarrass him as an unintended consequence.
Keep your cool, Autumn.
She didn’t ask me a question, so it’s not something I need to address. I hold my tongue, keeping my head down, feeling an indignity I didn’t deserve.
He sets the pen wordlessly down on the sign-in sheet, lowers his hand, and slides it across my shoulders to bring me into his side. Kissing the top of my head, he asks, “Are you ready, babe?” In the opposite of me, there’s no shame in his tone, only a pride that we’re better than this pettiness.
This small gesture gives me strength I didn’t know I needed. I don’t have anyone to lean on outside my family, or someone in my life who cares for me on a deeper level. But this feels a lot like the real thing.
We turn to leave, and on our way out, he says, “Gossiping gives you wrinkles.”
I may be grinning like a goose who got her gander, but I catch the look Brandon shoots her.
Hot damn, that was sexy. I honestly didn’t know the golden boy and Cove’s hero had a callous bone in his body.
He plays dirty in the most civilized manner I’ve ever seen.
Gets ’em before they see him coming. After witnessing that lethal look, I wouldn’t want to cross him.
Even when we’re out of the prying eyes of the office staff, he doesn’t release me.
His hand actually tightens around the curve of my shoulder.
And I’m gobbling it up like a hungry hippo.
I never took myself for the kind of girl who liked PDA.
Maybe because I’m not, but with him, things—beliefs, habits, expectations—are changing at a breakneck pace, and I can’t keep up.
And for some reason, for the first time in my life, I’m okay with it.
Apparently, according to Mrs. Carson, false rumors have already spread. My job is on the line, but not because of my work ethic despite what she’s heard. So what am I really risking anymore if people are going to believe the lies anyway?
This is what Dolly means about being spontaneous. Stop questioning and overanalyzing every little thing that happens in life and go for a ride to see where it takes you. I’m not sure it’s wise advice, but what if I trusted the process for once?
I slip my arm around his back. He doesn’t look down or flinch.
Both are good signs that it’s not unwelcome.
When we approach a group of kids, he doesn’t waver, making them part like the Red Sea for us.
I catch them gawking with hearts in their eyes while staring at him.
And I’m really starting to see the appeal.
More so, I feel it. I like his arm around me, holding me like I’m precious, the woodsy scent of his cologne permeating his T-shirt, and that he took offense back, in the offense for me.
I really like that it feels like I’m part of a team. Us against them.
We turn down a hall, and at the far end, the display case that I never much looked at back in high school stands in tribute to the many players who’ve played for the school, including my dad and Brandon, who are featured in the center.
My dad’s jersey is pinned at the back, hanging in honor of him, and the number 7 is ironed on the front.
“We never cared about football growing up.” I lean down to look at the other items they’ve collected to represent the great Charlie Season.
“He didn’t watch a lot of games, though it was sometimes on in the background.
He was such an outdoors guy and was always spending time with us rather than reminiscing about his football days or losing hours on a Sunday to a game on TV. ”
“Your dad was a great guy and sounds like the best father.” It’s odd how just hearing him mention mine reminds me that his hasn’t lived in this town in a long time.
I’m sure it’s not something he’s anxious to talk about.
I had my dad for a short time, but he was fully present and loved us with all his might.
“Thank you.” It shouldn’t feel like bragging to talk about my dad, but my heart hurts for Brandon to say much more.
He slides his hand from my shoulder as he bends down to see what the school’s collected for him. “I don’t know where they get this stuff. I haven’t seen that lucky rabbit’s foot since middle school. It never made it to high school with me. Who’s donating this crap?”
Looking at his display and then my dad’s, I see what he means.
“It’s all random stuff. There’s a brass key that looks like it opens a castle door, but there’s no description.
Why does that key matter when it comes to my dad and football?
” I pop upright, my gaze darting to Brandon as fast as his flash to mine. “The key.”
“That key goes to something.”
“What, though?” I glance at the entrance to the locker room beside the case. “His old locker?”
“Those were torn out before my time and have been replaced since. Could it be for a box or trunk at the house? Maybe his toolbox or an old door somewhere?”
I move to the other side of him to find how to get into the case, but I don’t see an opening. “We need that key. How do we get it?”
“The only time I saw them putting a trophy in place, they had to move the entire thing.”
Coming to stand face-to-face—okay, my face to his chest—with him, I say, “You know what you have to do.”
“Get the key?”
I nod. “Get the key.”
He peers over my head, then down the hall in the other direction. “Keep an eye out, okay?”
Turning my back to him, I scan the perimeters while humming the Mission: Impossible tune.
His chuckle can barely be heard under the sound of rubber skidding against linoleum.
I look back over my shoulder to see him sliding the back panel to the side.
It’s tempting to tell him to steal my dad’s jersey for me.
Nobody will probably notice a random-ass key missing from the display.
I can’t say the same about the legendary jersey.
“I’m starving,” I say, checking to make sure the coast is still clear.
“A life of crime tends to make one hungry. I’ll feed you if we escape this unlawful activity.” I catch him bending through the gap he left himself to grab the key. “Got it.”
The sound of heels clacking echoes down the hall. “Hurry. Hurry. Someone’s coming.”
He hands me the key, then works on sliding the case back just as Mrs. Carson sees us. “Hey there, you said you were visiting the coaches over on the training field.”
The rubber screeches as the case slides back in its place. Brandon grabs my hand and says, “This way.” We push out into the sun through the side doors and run along the sidewalk back toward the parking lot.
The sneaking around school property, stealing the key, and pissing off Mrs. Carson have me laughing as adrenaline courses through me. Seeing Brandon’s million-kilowatt smile has my heart beating faster. That or the running, but I think the credit goes to him.
Dolly was a wild child, but she got it right when she said to listen to your heart over your head. Mine is currently shouting for me to take a chance on this man. But kissing him breathless usually requires breath in the first place, and the high school parking lot isn’t exactly romantic.
I slow down just as we reach the car and bend over to catch my breath. With my fingers wrapped tightly around the ornate brass key, I look up to see him leaning against the car, which is small compared to him, and wondering if not now, when?
Just do it, Autumn. “Brandon—?”
“Brandon Culver,” Mrs. Carson yells, waving a sheet of paper in the air. “You stay right there.”
“Get in,” he says, rushing to the passenger side and dipping inside just as quickly as I settle in behind the wheel and start the car, ready to peel out. We roll down our windows, so we don’t miss a thing, and because it cools me off.
Even when we’re driving away, I can hear her yelling that we didn’t sign out. I glance over at him next to me, and we both burst into laughter. “I didn’t write the date either.” I could ride the high that comes with pulling off a stunt like that all the way home. Or better yet, to his house.
“Rebel,” he replies, chuckling.
When I sneak a peek at him, the wind blowing through his hair, he has a smile that feels more like him than any other I’ve seen, and adventure brightens in his eyes that only draws me closer to him.
I want his arm wrapped around me again, to feel safe under his protection as he snaps back at anyone trying to harm me, and to feel beautiful like when he looked at me earlier in the field.
He didn’t see flowers; he only saw me. I gulp, knowing exactly what is happening.
I have feelings for Brandon Culver. How in the world did that happen?
Seeing him in a new light, it’s easy to pinpoint exactly how that happened. And as much as I want to blame that ridiculously handsome face of his, I know it’s not that. Okay, it’s not just that. It’s his heart and who he is as a person.
I wasn’t joking earlier about him being the full package. I just didn’t realize I was susceptible to falling for him.
He laughs again, and says, “You showed her.”
“I sure did,” I mumble, staring at the road ahead, realizing I’ve detoured so far from the path I was headed that I’m not sure if I’ve lost my way or found my heart with this man.
I set the key in the console tray, having no idea what it goes to or what it will open, but it doesn’t matter right now. This, our time together, does, and I’m having the time of my life.
“What did Mrs. Carson mean when she said you were on your way out at the hospital?”
Until now.