Page 79 of Falling for Autumn Again

Ezra

I stareat the fire burning in Autumn’s fireplace. She’s snuggled into my side so much that I don’t think there is an inch of her body space that doesn’t touch part of mine—just the way I like it.

Her breaths are even, though my shirt is still wet with her tears. She cried—a lot. And I’m not sure what that means. We both have lost years to mourn. In Autumn’s case, a loving parent lost too.

I hug her tighter and press a light kiss on her head. Her right leg weaves around mine and she tightens her hold on me. Just like when we were eighteen. She never wanted to say goodbye. And she'd always hold me like tomorrow wasn't promised. Little did we both know, for us, all those years ago, it wasn't. I feel the same urgency in this hold and I hold her right back. I always had to remind her of her curfew. I made sure I got her home on time—unless we were out without anyone knowing, and then I made sure no one stressed about her. I never wanted to be the reason Autumn got in trouble or the reason her parents worried.

I was always in trouble, so it didn’t matter whattime I got home.

But she’d hold me tight and tell me—five more minutes. Again and again.

The memory fills me like a cup that’s been empty for far too long.

“Five more minutes,” I tell her, knowing she’ll understand my reference.

Her chest rumbles against my side, her quiet laugh reverberating through me. This is the life I always wanted. This is the life we’d planned and were supposed to have. This is the life I was so sure I’d never get back.

And yet, here she is, in my arms, her leg binding mine to hers.

My lips brush over her hairline, finding her skin and pressing a kiss there. “I love you, Autumn.”

The fire sparks and her body, soft and smooth, gentle and sweet, goes rigid in my arms.

“Too soon?” I say. It’s been years since I’ve said those words, and for me, it’s been far too long.

She grabs hold of an inch of my skin beneath my shirt and pinches. “You think?”

“Ow!” I snag her hand and lace her fingers through mine. “I’m sorry, but—” I wrinkle my brow. I’m not afraid of my feelings. “Scratch that. I’mnotsorry. That’s how I feel.” Dr. Appleby always said to embrace my feelings—they’re normal and natural, whatever they are. “I’ve always loved you, Autumn. That didn’t go away because you kicked me to the curb.”

She sits up just far enough to stare down at me. “I didn’t kick you to the curb. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

I lift her fingers and pull them to my lips. “Wrong word choice, for sure.”

“Ten years is a long time and—”

“It is. But I loved you then and I love you now. I love how time has treated you, changed you.”

She laughs out a humorless moan. “You don’t know how it’s changed me.”

“I’m happy to spend the rest of my life learning. I will fall for you again and again and again. Over and over.”

She scoffs, removes her legs from around mine, and sets her feet on the ground.

Rats.

“Ezra, even if you did love me, I can’t leave and you can’t stay.” She blows a tired breath out the O-shape her lips have formed. “How is this supposed to work?”

“Why can’t I stay? Life isn’t about where we are but who we’re with. I want to be with you.” I sit up, reaching for her. “Do you love me, Autumn?”

She swallows, her throat bulging with the gulp. “How could I? We don’t even know each other anymore,” she says, her voice strained.

“You are many things, Autumn Green, but you’ve never been a liar.”

She laughs a painful, sad laugh that sounds a lot more like a cry. “I lied to you ten years ago.”

“You did,” I say, cupping her cheek and pulling her close again. “And that didn’t really work out for either of us.”

Her eyes fall to my mouth and I take that as a sign.

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