Page 38 of Falling for Autumn Again

Only… it’s not. I squint as they grow closer. Dessie and Don are on one machine andEzrais on the other.

“Hey, doll!” Dessie calls when they’re close enough for me to hear. She is snug against Don on one machine, her Southern accent so thick I can’t help but smile at my friend.

Ezra’s eyes burn holes into my side. I’d made plans tonotsee him today, and I was pretty set on those plans. Do I want to know about Ezra’s life these past few years, about school, about Bre? Sure—and yet, I don’t want to ask. Asking and learning only puts the heart at risk. Why doesn’t my stupid heart understand that?

“We brought lunch,” Dessie says, holding up a brown paper bag.

I swallow. “I wasn’t planning on eating lunch,” I say, hoping they’ll just turn around and go away. Why would all three of them need to bring me lunch anyway?

“Nonsense,” Dessie says and Don laughs as if skipping lunch is ridiculous.

“We all know you get hangry when you don’t eat.” Don winks at me.

Thanks, Don. Thanks a lot.

“That’s nothing new,” Ezra says, and I ball my hands into fists at my sides. But then, I’m all primed to punch, so I stretch my fingers out again.

“Gee. Thanks.” I cross my arms over my chest and keep my eyes fixed towards the Linus’s. “It took all three of you to bring me lunch, huh?”

“Well, of course not.Silly. Don and I haven’t seen you and Ez together in years and we just needed that pretty picture in our heads.”

I dip my head and glare at my elderly bestie. “Dessie,” I hiss. “You do not need any such image.”

“Of course I do. Stand right over here.” She takes me by the hand and drags me over to where Ezra leans against his four-wheeler. “Right here,” she says, planting me next to Ezra. “And you—” She lets me go and manhandles Ezra next. “You stand up and put one arm around—”

“Nope,” I say, side-stepping. No touching. What is she trying to do to me? “His arms are fine at his sides.”

Dessie huffs like I’m making her life difficult. “That’s not much of a picture.”

“We don’t need a picture!” I protest.

“Well, of course we do. It’s been ten years, Autumn Pie.”

“Well, then, this will have to do.”

“Can you link your arm through his?”

“No,” I tell her. I can feel the warmth of Ezra’s body as it is. Idon’t need to actually touch the man—all those protective walls I’ve built may come tumbling down.

Ezra stands there, waiting for instructions, like a good star student.

I stand taller, though my five-foot-four-inch frame has nothing on his six-foot-one-inch structure. Ezra must not be working up a sweat because he’s kind of like breathing in fresh air mixed with musk and cedarwood. My head feels a little buzzed with all the Ezra scent so close.

“Is this good enough?” How long does a mental picture take to be seared into your brain?

Dessie backs up. “Stay right there.”

And then Don pulls out his old Polaroid camera.

Holy Moses. What is happening?

“Smile,” Dessie sings.

Ugh.

Let’s get this over with.

Don snaps the photo and a square white developing photo comes sliding out of the camera.

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