Page 23 of Falling for Autumn Again

“Right. You need to go.” Only, I’m not quite ready to let her. Ipick up my feet and keep walking beside her. “Uh—so, Autumn, how long has she been back?”

“Back?” Meg shakes her head, confused.

“Yeah. I was just…” I shrug. “Curious. Do you know how long ago she moved back to Love?”

“Autumn never left.”

My heart thumps. Never left? But all Autumn ever wanted was to leave Love. It’s not that being a chef didn’t work out—she never tried.

“Why is that?” I say, and I am one cool cucumber. The questions exploding in my head are silent.

“Listen.” The girl clamps down on her bottom lip. “I don’t break promises. That goes against everything I am. And I promised not to say anything.”

“Say what?” I’m confused and my heart pounds with a need to understand. This girl has an answer.

She tilts her head like I might be small-minded. "I can't say. But I'll tell you this, Ezra Bennett, you need to figure it out."

Okay, cryptic.

“I do?”

“Yes. You do.” She sniffs again. “And don’t be angry with her.”

“I’m not angry,” I say—oh, but I am. She broke my heart and left me crazy and confused.

“I think you might be. It’s understandable. But you should really try to forgive her.” She peeks back at the green house. “I have to go.”

With one more pitiful glance my way, she’s gone.

Forgive her—like I can flip a switch and turn off my emotions. Maybe if she weren't so cryptic, maybe if she'd told me anything helpful, then maybe I could put all this behind me, and Autumn and I could befriends—at the very least, civil during this project.

I peer back at the green Airbnb. She must be cleaning or something. It would make sense that taking care of the Airbnbs would be part of her job.

I rub one hand over the back of my neck, screw up my courage, and walk over to the bright yellow door of the green house. My hand hovers in front of the entrance for three solid seconds before I knock.

“Meg?” Autumn calls. “Come in!”

I’m not Meg. But she did say come in before giving me a chance to confirm or deny who I am. So, I open up the door, not to find Autumn cleaning but half dressed in what’s clearly a home and not a rental.

Her black sports bra covers everything that needs covering but her shoulders, tummy, and the curve of her hips beneath her low-rise jeans play with my imagination. I’m pretty sure those hips tell me to look at them. And I do. I can’t help it. Where else am I going to look?

“Ezra!” she roars, snatching an afghan from the couch and holding it up to her chest. “What are you doing here?”

I blink and peer around the room. Her friend did tell me to find things out and to not be angry, so I relax. Somehow, Autumn’s bare tummy helps me shove away my anger. “You invited me in.”

“I thought you were Meg!” she yells, holding the afghan to her chin.

“Well, maybe you should have confirmed that first. Besides, you’re in a sports bra. Half the women I go to the gym with only wear a sports bra for a top.”

“Well, I’m not one of those women!”

“It covers a whole lot more than that bikini you wore junior year.”

She growls as if she’s turned into a raging rottweiler. “Get out!” she barks, and I am so overcome with the memory of old times that I’m pulled farther inside. I don’t even tell my feet to move. It’s as if they are sucked inside by some greater force.

“Do you live here?” I pick up a framed photo on the end tablenext to a worn, comfy couch. “Whoa.” I laugh. “Summer has changed.”

Autumn stomps the two feet it takes to get to me and snatches the photo from my hand, causing her blanket to droop. “Why are you here?”

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