Page 20 of Falling for Autumn Again

“Sure,” I tell him. “Why wouldn’t they?”

He thinks for a minute. “I think I would like college.”

“You would!” I say as if I know.

Ezra laughs. Iama little overzealous.

“You’re so sure,” he says.

My cousin Holly told me all about college life at our last family reunion. And ever since, I’ve been saving every dime, helping Mom and Dad feed that account—okay,mostof my dimes. A few dimes are reserved for candy bars.

Dad says education is important. It gives you knowledgeabout the world and the people around you, and that knowledge helps you to make both better.

"I am sure. Promise me you'll go to college, Ezra," I say as if my own life depends on it. But then, I mean it, it's more important than he realizes.

He clears his throat. “I promise I’ll think about it.”

“Besides, all parents want their kids to go to school. It makes them proud and gives them a reason to brag about us. I would guess your parents have a savings account for you, just like mine do. Maybe they just haven’t told you about it.”

“You’d be wrong,” he says—another very sure answer.

I glance at him one more time, but he’s staring out the window. “Which house?” I say, turning onto Birch.

Ezra stirs in his seat. “Uh, you can stop here, Autumn. Right here.”

I lurch the truck to a stop and shift into park.

“Thanks for the ride. Thanks a lot.” He opens up the door but turns back. “And the talk. I’ll think about college.”

I smile. “Good. You promised.”

Ezra exits the car and though he smiles and waves goodbye, I wait. The house in front of us is dark and I want to make sure he can get inside.

But he doesn’t walk up to the dark blue house. He crosses the street and walks two houses up to where a man sits outside in a lawn chair in the nothing-but-dirt yard. There’s a grimace on his face and a shotgun leaning against the chair he sits on. A shotgun? In the front yard? Who is this guy?

My heart drops into my stomach. This man isn’t a good person. I can see it just by looking at him. Am I really leaving Ezra here? My mom would scold my quick judgments. But I can see he’s mean—the kind of mean you don’t just leave a friend with.

At least, I think Ezra and I are friends now.

I roll my driver's side window down just a couple of inches,just enough to hear what he's saying to Ezra, just enough to call Ezra back if I need to.

The man is telling him something. His mouth is moving and as my window opens up, his words float into my space.

“—late again!”

I jump at his cruel tone. If Ezra’s late, it’s just by a few minutes. I brought him right home.

“I told you I had to work today,” Ezra says, stopping in front of the man.

“And I told you to be home when I’m hungry.”

Ezra glances back at me and stands a little taller. I hope my eyes tell him to come back.Come back if you need to, Ezra.

“I know, Dad. I had to work.”

Dad? Dads aren’t supposed to be like that.

I blink and swallow and try to make sense of what I’m seeing. The man frowning and yelling and sitting next to a gun in the middle of his yard is Ezra’sfather.

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