Page 3 of Falling for Autumn Again

I shove my hands in my pockets, peering at him. Floppy brown hair, hazel eyes, pouty lips. I don’t want to forget.

Because I love him.

Which is exactly why I do what I do next.

“I’m not going, Ez.”

Ezra’s brows raise. “Funny. Where are your things? I’ll get them packed.”

I shake my head, pushing down the lump in my throat and the sting in my eyes. Because I will not cry. I’ll be strong and serious, and he’ll be better for it.

Eventually.

“I’m sorry.” I peer at the ground. “I had some… inspiration last night and I realized I can’t go with you.”

“Inspiration? Autumn, you aren’t making sense.”

“I’m young,” I say, my voice so much steadier than I feel. “Just eighteen. I can’t be tied down to one person.” I hold out my arm, directing it toward him before letting it fall like a limp rag to my side. “You shouldn’t be either. New York and the two of us was a bad idea from the start.”

“No,” he says, firm and final. “It’s not a bad idea. What happened?”

“New York isn’t right. Forme. That’s all.” I nod at him. “You should go.” He has to go. He can’t stay here. Not with Mav. Not for me.

I turn for the door because I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it together.

Ezra snatches my hand, tugging me to a stop. “Autumn. Explain. You aren’t making any sense.”

“I did,” I tell him, slipping my hand from his. “It was a bad idea. I’ve just come to my senses. We’re done, Ezra.” Those words are like acid on my tongue. Me and Ezra, done. How can that be?

He steps toward me, toward the door I’m holding half open. “Autumn, I—”

But I interrupt because I’m not going to make it much longer. And if I break down, he’ll never leave. “Ez, my family’s asleep. Please don’t cause a ruckus. Yesterday was a long day for my dad.”

“Your dad? Is this about your dad?”

I stare at him.Yes, I say in my head.

“I always wondered. I thought maybe—He doesn’t approve of me, does he?”

I shake my head. My heart breaks with the untrue thought. Then I utter the words I know will send Ezra off to New York, alone: “No. He doesn’t.”

Chapter One

Autumn

TEN YEARS LATER

Everything I own is plaid.Or denim. Or a strange combination of denim and plaid. Except for that one blouse in the back of my closet with the tags still on it. It’s so not Christmas-tree-farm appropriate. Orboss-appropriate. That neckline is a little on the sexy side… So, why is it in my closet again?

Gah! When was the last time I went shopping? Why do I feel like I’m being set up for one of those reality TV shows where the secret fashion host catches the clueless dresser on camera right before they give her one horrendous makeover?

When was the last time I tried to dress like a professional?

I can’t remember. The answer might benever. Or maybe I don’t want to remember because the truth would probably be… high school. For some club or possibly my own job interview.

But that is an era I don’t visit.

No way. No how.

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