Page 88 of Snake

Another, even longer pause. Pops was nothing if not thoughtful—which was why he was Autumn’s go-to for advice. Pom was good at kissing booboos; Pops was good at fixing the problem that made the booboo.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “It still doesn’t make sense all these years later. I guess that’s what I’m really saying. You don’t know what he needs. You have to ask. And then you have to listen.”

Crying again, Autumn scanned the scene around her. Bustle and hum everywhere; a dozen or more people had converged here because they’d answered the call. But who was with Cox? What was he doing? How was he doing?

She didn’t know, because she’d let all these people push her away from him. Because she hadn’t felt like she belonged among them.

But Cox had been with her when he’d gotten the call. It was her he’d held all night, with her he’d experienced something he’d called monumental.

It was her. If Cox wanted her, she should be with him. If he didn’t, it should be his decision. Now of all times, it should be up to him.

“Thank you, Pops,” she said, wiping her face and straightening her spine. “I might not be home tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

“Do, Autumn. I don’t know this man, and I have concerns, but if he means so much to you, okay. But I will be going mad wondering if you’re okay, so keep me in the loop. Do you want me to tell your Pom, or is that too much to deal with right now?”

A little smile pulled on Autumn’s lips. “Let’s hold off a bit. If you call, he’ll be hurt I told you first. If I call, he’ll make a big scene. And either way, he’ll be wearing widow’s weeds and swooning all over town.”

Pops chuckled softly. “Yes. Okay. Don’t go too long without telling him, though.”

“I won’t. I just need to focus here for now.”

“Understood.”

“Thank you. I was kind of losing my head not knowing what to do.”

“I heard that in your voice. And your tears. You’ve never been comfortable with not knowing your fit.”

Was anybody, though? “I love you, Pop-pop.” Why had she called him that? It had slipped out unbidden. Because it felt right.

He made a humming sound. “Oh, lass. You haven’t called me that since you were about eight. Now you’re breaking my heart because I can’t hug you.”

“I’m taking a raincheck on that hug. Soon as I get back, I’m collecting.”

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~oOo~

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After her call with Pops, Autumn made two more calls, both to MWGP. The first was to the HR department. It was a weekend, but she left message, stating that she was taking emergency leave effective immediately and would be away from the office for at least the next week. Then she called Chase’s office and left another message, conveying the same information and nothing more. She had his cell number, of course, but she specifically did not want to speak to him.

Those tasks completed, Autumn shouldered aside worry about what it might mean for her job and focused instead on the trouble immediately before her. She walked straight to the house, onto the porch, through the open front door. More Horde and their women were moving about inside. The men from Kellogg & Son Memorial Services were zipping closed a body bag on their gurney.

Cox sat in the middle of a 70s-era sofa, an old ‘Early American’ style, upholstered in light blue velvet with a ditsy floral pattern, except where decades of wear and use had worn the velvet white. He was alone and staring straight ahead. His eyes were red and swollen, but bone dry.

It was like Pops had said—everyone was helping, and everyone was ignoring Cox.

As she had been.

She crouched before him and set her hands on his knees. Then she waited for him to notice her. It took quite a while, she had to suppress the urge to call his name, draw his attention, but finally, his eyes came back into focus and shifted downward, and he saw her.

As soon as he understood she was there, that same stunned need he’d shown her that morning animated his eyes.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “What do you want to do?”

Just then, the Kellogg & Son men unlocked the gurney with a metallic thunk, and Cox flinched. He looked that way, and his eyes followed the gurney through the room and out the door.

When his mother was gone, Cox turned back to Autumn. Eyes still red, still dry, but nearly leaping from his head. “Outta here. Outta here.”

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