Chapter 29
brANDON
My shoulder still bothers me sometimes, but only when I’ve pushed it too hard—lugging a ladder around at work or holding my girl up while I fuck her in the shower for the third time in one day. Taking it slow just isn’t something I’m good at. Ask my girlfriend.
My girlfriend.
After trying that title on her for size, I’ve determined it doesn’t fit Autumn.
Yep, not taking it slow is becoming my motto.
But I’m not naive. She likes plans and loves a good itinerary.
So, popping the question too soon won’t work for her, which means it’s no good for me either.
I’ll be patient. It’s been ten years of patience, and now almost two months with only sporadic memories returning, I’m a pro at it.
The memories hit quick and out of nowhere.
We were checking out at the grocery store when I could see her in my mind walk into prom in a gold dress that made my jaw drop.
I drove her to Ocean’s Bay three weeks ago for a fast-food burger and flashbacked to being seventeen, catching a glimpse of her lying out on the shores of the lake where all the kids used to hang out.
I don’t know what she was thinking, dressed in a bikini so small that I almost jumped off a boat to cover her up.
She’s lucky I didn’t, or that one guy swimming around her would have been taken out.
It was when I picked her up from the hospital last week that I stopped in my tracks.
Seeing room 8 had everything coming back in full color.
Her sitting with a patient I had brought in from a fire out on Dunlap.
Neither of them saw me, but as I watched from the corridor, I could see the relief my girl brought reflected in the patient's eyes.
That happened more than two years ago, but she had my heart all over again.
Tangled in the sheets next to me, my angel sleeps in such peace that she occasionally snores. Grinning, I slide over, pulling her back to my chest, my heart singing as she wiggles toward me in her sleep.
Just when I’m able to find sleep, the sound of a bulldozer breaks the silence. Shit. Rolling to my back, I scrub a hand over my face and release a heavy breath.
She sits up with a start, planting her weight on her elbow. Fear wrecks her forehead as she looks at me to protect her. “What is that?”
“Sorry, I forgot the crew was scheduled for this morning.” I kiss the top of her head and get out of bed.
“What crew?”
I grab a pair of shorts from the floor and a T-shirt from the chair in the corner where she tossed it last night. “The construction crew. You once said you wanted a paved road. I want you here, so we’re paving it.”
Rapid blinks are followed by a gaping mouth. She closes it, and then opens it again, staring at me while I put on a pair of socks. “What do you mean you’re paving it? It’s a mountain. The road is like a mile long.”
“Right. It’s only a mile. It’s a smaller mountain.”
She’s staring at me again as if my words don’t make sense. “Brandon.”
Not a question. Just my name. “Autumn.”
She rolls her eyes, but I get a little laugh at least. “You don’t have to do that. It will cost a fortune. I can manage the road in my car.”
“Actually, you really can’t. And speaking of cars, we’re going to pick out a new SUV for you. One that has four-wheel drive and can handle a little off-roading. I’ll take you out to the backroads and teach you how to drive defensively in case of an emergency.”
Her eyes widen when she turns to look out the window, tilting her head to get a better listen to what’s happening outside.
My attention follows, realizing all this information is probably a lot to process first thing in the morning.
Her gaze returns to me with a line digging deep between her brows, and she asks, “You’re paving the road, and I’m getting a car? ”
“In summary, yes.” I tie my sneakers but look up at her again. “I need to know you’re safe.”
Sitting up, she crosses her legs and stares at me. “Why am I not safe in my Corolla?”
“Your Corolla is fine. It’s you in the Corolla driving like you’re racing at Daytona that is the issue.
” I come to sit next to her on the bed, reaching over to rub her leg.
“I know we never talked about it, so maybe I’m jumping the gun here and assuming too much.
I want this to be your home, Autumn. I want you to feel comfortable and keep your stuff here and make it your own.
But I need to know you’re safe when you’re coming and going from here.
So if that means paving the road and making sure you’re in a vehicle that can manage the incline and the descent on a daily basis, I’ll take care of it. ”
“You can’t just take care of it. It’s expensive.
” She slides over and onto my lap, resting her head against my shoulder.
With her arms encircled around me, she says, “We haven’t talked money, but you’re a firefighter.
I know the general salary is similar to mine here in the Cove.
Anyway, I’m getting some backpay raises, and I’ll trade in the car for something sturdier that us sea-level cove dwellers never needed, if it will make you feel better.
” Her smile is potent enough to make me say fuck it to the crew.
They can bulldoze the entire mountain if it means I get twenty extra minutes being inside her.
She tickles under my chin and then brings me to her for a kiss. When our lips part, she whispers, “I love you with all my heart, but let’s save the money.”
I’m not afraid of talking about money with her. I trust her with my life. I’m just unsure how to broach the topic. The rumble of the bulldozer gets louder since they’re starting by pouring a pad for the cars to park. “I have money,” I say, just putting it out there to see her reaction.
Patting my back, she starts to rub it. “I was saving for an apartment or to buy a piece of property. It’s not much, but I have fifteen thousand.”
It’s so sweet to hear the pride in her voice. She would probably make double her salary over in Ocean’s Bay, but she stays because this town needs her. Her family does, too. But most of all, I need her, and I want her to stay right here. I caress her cheek and ask, “How did you manage that?”
“Lots of extra shifts and overtime over the years. How much do you have saved?” There’s an innocence to her tone because she knows, as first responders, our jobs are on the same salary playing field.
I rip the bandage of truth off and reply, “Two point three million.”
“That’s okay. It’s hard to save. You have a beautiful house—wait, you said thousand, right?”
“I didn’t.”
Rapid blinking begins again as she tilts her head to think this through. Darting her eyes back to me, she shakes her head. “I don’t get it. Did you say million? How does a firefighter make millions?”
“Good investments. My college was paid for by scholarship, so I took the money it would have cost me and invested in stocks and two startups. They’ve done well in the past ten years.”
“I’d say so.” Angling her head toward the sound of the machinery again, she laughs. “So building me a road is nothing for you?”
“It’s nothing, but if it keeps our family safe, it’s worth it.”
When her hold tightens around my neck, she leans back with hearts in her eyes. I recognize it because it’s how I look at her too. “Our family?”
A casual shrug probably doesn’t fool her, but no need to turn this conversation into something it’s not. “Yeah, our family.”
The sound of her hum is music to my ears. It’s the sound that tells me her soul is happy. She kisses me, her hands caressing my cheeks and her core rocking on my lap, teasing me. “Do you have to go?”
Flipping her onto her back, I hover over her and kick off my shoes. “I’m in no hurry.”
“He paved a road for me,” I overhear her telling her sisters as if I gave her a five-carat diamond ring. Who knew concrete was the way to win her heart? Wish I would have known that back in high school when I was trying to get her to talk to me in Mr. Ingalson’s class.
Oh shit.
I just remembered that.
“Weiner?” Turning around, Daniel’s holding a hot dog on a stick toward me. “Hungry?”
“No,” I reply, looking at where the group of women sits near the water in Adirondack chairs.
I push my fingers through my hair, remembering running to the bleachers wondering if she’d gotten my note and hoping she’d be there.
The sheer relief I felt when I saw her waiting.
Pressing my hands to my head, I turn as my head floods with memories.
Kissing her. Asking her to be mine. The upset I felt when she didn’t come to the party that night at the lake.
Winning prom king and wishing I could dance with her.
Summer’s wedding.
Picking pumpkins at a patch with our moms when we were really young.
Our eighth-grade dance and finally having the nerve to ask the prettiest girl in school to dance.
The sound of her voice pulling me back from death after the fall.
And that little girl on the stairs, trying so hard to be brave to prove to the world she could handle the grief consuming her. Slipping my hand between us, our fingers folded together, and we sat there in silence. I didn’t need to say anything. She just needed a friend.
It doesn’t matter what we’ve been through because we went through it together. She’s always been my person. And I’ll always be hers.
I run to her, taking her by the hands and pulling her to her feet with alarm flashing in her eyes. “I remember.”
Her gaze softens. “What do you remember?” she asks, placing her hand on my chest. I cover it with mine, holding it so she can feel the beat of my heart.
“Everything. I remember everything about you.”
Hope shapes her smile, too wide to pretend she feels anything less. “You do?”
Her arms fly around me, and tears form in the corner of her eyes. I hold this incredible woman as memories still fight to be recognized. “I do.” I kiss the top of her head and whisper, “You were the last thing that crossed my mind before I hit the ground.”