Page 15 of Falling for Autumn Again

But anger is my only defense. Because I’m not sure my heart can survive another goodbye.

Chapter Seven

Ezra

Autumn’s lying.I can see it in her face. She’s still the same Autumn and she can’t hide from me. While part of me wants to turn and run from this job, from the pain she caused all those years ago, the greater part wants to play this out. I’ve had unanswered questions for far too long.

Dr. Appleby told me to face my demons—Autumn and Mav—not necessarily for answers but for closure.

Only, I want Autumn’s answers. I always have.

When she looked me in the eye for the first time in a decade, I saw the shock. Shock, I understand. I felt it too. Even if Phil may have been a tiny bit right about me—part of me hoped she’d be here. But there was more than shock. Like looking in a mirror, there was also hurt, pain, and confusion.

She’s the one who ended it. She’s the one who sent me on my way and wouldn’t return my calls. So why was there so much pain in those amber eyes?

Maybe that’s the reason I go along with her I-was-right-and-you-were-wrongdeclaration. Because we both know that’s a crock. Dessie hired me. I’ve already signed on the dotted line.

But I let the girl who broke my heart go through themotions of her story because I’m hoping that, somehow, it’ll produce an answer—or ten. One for every year we’ve been separated.

We leave the office behind and head toward the four new bungalows that weren’t here when I worked on the farm a decade ago. They all look the same except for the last one. The siding has been painted a hunter green instead of the bright white panels and red trim of the other three.

We walk past the old red barn where Dessie and Don sell their homemade ornaments and other Christmas items in the fall. We stop on the grounds, still yards away from the Airbnb addition to the farm.

I wonder for a moment if Dessie told Autumn that I booked one of the little homes for the entire fall season. I’ll need time to design the space, and then I’d like to see the construction get started—for Dessie and Don. They might be the only people I regret not keeping in contact with. But we don’t make it as far as the bungalows, so maybe she doesn’t know yet.

“This is where we want the restaurant.”

“This close to the Airbnbs?”

“They’re yards away and we’d like it near the barn. It’s a pretty view.”

And it would be. The old red barn always stood out with the rows and rows of pine trees behind it.

“What are they calling it?” I ask.

“I’mcalling it TreeTop Bistro.” There’s a whole lot of emphasis on thatI’m. Like she wants to make sure I know she’s in charge.

“This isyourbaby, huh?" I say, trying my best to keep eye contact. I don't need to look away. I know her. I've seen her, down to that skimpy two-piece she loved wearing in the summers. I know this girl. I will not be unsettled by her.

She narrows her eyes on me—her father’s eyes.

The thought strikes me, remembering the new information I've gained today. Autumn lost her father. Ed Green isn't aroundanymore. She lost him, and I wasn't here to help or to comfort her. To do anything.

But then, she didn’t want me here at all. So why do I feel so guilty? My therapist would tell me that guilt has a purpose and that purpose isn’t to abuse yourself. I have nothing to feel guilty about.

“This is my project,” Autumn says. “But it’s Dessie and Don’s too.” She clenches her jaw. She doesn’t like telling me this. She’s going to have to start sleeping with that mouthguard her mom bought her in tenth grade just to keep her face from aching from an abnormal amount of jaw clenching.

Maybe she already does—I’m thinking like a man who knows. And I don’t know a thing.

"Can we move it more toward the barn to keep it separate from the bungalows?" I ask, all business. That's right, I'm here for a job. A job, and then I'll move on. To where, I'm not sure, seeing how I am currently homeless. But eventually, I'll be moving on.

When Dessie got a hold of me for this job, she assured me the “saints” had sent her. So, I took the freelance job and I’ll be bunking in the Linus’s Airbnb for half the price, because where else am I going to go?

I may have thought twice if I’d known this was Autumn’s restaurant. I’m pretty sure Dessie knew as much, seeing how she didn’t mention that small fact.

Autumn still hasn’t answered my question. So I raise my brows, silently asking again—can we move it?

“No, we can’t,” she says, so unbending. So unlike the Autumn I remember. Sure, she’s always been stubborn, but never unreasonable. But then, I was a boy blinded by a girl. Maybe she was always like this.

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