Page 88 of Falling for Autumn Again

I’m pretty sure he’s right.

My eyes fill—again. It’s like he came back here and found the on switch to my stupid tear ducts. “You can’t stay and I can’t go.”

“You mentioned that,” he says. “Maybe you could stop trying to save me for a minute. Just one. And in that minute, you could forget the hurdles you’re so sure we face and love me. Just love me. Maybe that’s all we need.”

Chapter Forty-One

Autumn

Another week passesand Ezra makes no sign of leaving. None. Zero. Zip.

He never mentions it and the part of my body—so all of it—that’s so very tired of being alone has decided to avoid the topic for now. Ezra is back, and while that comes with a lot of fear and anxiety for me, it’s too sweet to fight. I want him back.

Every night he tells me he loves me and he doesn’t even grumble that I haven’t returned the sentiment. I feel it. But my heart won’t let me say it. Not yet.

It will let Ezra eat at my house every night, work by my side, and kiss me to bits each and every day. That, my heart is perfectly fine with.

I stand in Mom’s kitchen and loop my arm through Ezra’s. It’s more instinct than anything. The past week has almost felt like before he left.

“Mother,” I groan, but with Ezra next to me, it’s playful. “He’s touching up, not painting the whole house.”

“But Ezra said—”

“I told her to pick any color she wanted.” Ezra gives my arm a small squeeze, quieting my complaints. “April, I’d love for you towalk three doors down with me. Mrs. Hamilton has a green door against her peach house. Maybe your door could use a new color too.”

Mom laughs at the thought. But I’m waiting. Ezra suggested she leave the house and she didn’t shut him down in two seconds flat. She didn’t leave the room. She didn’t start to cry. She’s laughing.

Soon, she shakes her head. “No, I’ll take your word for it.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “You know, I do like the sound of that though. What about blue for the house and yellow for the door?”

“I like it,” Ezra says. “Autumn?” His low tone combined with my name erupts tingles over my entire body.

“What about everything we need to do on the farm?” I say, peering up into his hazel eyes. They know too much. I’ve pretty much given myself over to him. I’ve lost almost all control where Ezra is concerned. “It’s too much to ask of you.”

I know Don and Dessie paid him as our architect. But they are the first paychecks he’s seen in a while. He can’t spend this newfound financial security on my mother. And she doesn’t have any money for paint. Neither do I.

“You don’t have to stay and help,” he tells me, leaning down and kissing my cheek, making heat spread from that tiny corner of my face over my entire body. “You have a lot more to take care of than I do. I’m merely a hired hand.”

But Mom blinks, her eyes on me. Her smile has faltered. She was excited about the paint. When was the last time she got excited about anything, really?

“I suppose that’s true.” I bump him with my hip, trying to bring back an air of playfulness. I can’t be the one to dim her light. I can’t. Not even to save Ezra from financial ruin. “I am sort of your boss. I suppose I could give you a few days off.”

Mom’s strait-laced mouth turns up a little with my jovial tone.

“So, blue?” I say to her, trying my best to not think about how much money this is going to cost Ezra.

“I think blue would be nice, don’t you? It was always your father’s favorite.”

It was. Of course she’d think of that. “I think blue is perfect.” I lick my lips, my heart pounding. “I really should get back to the farm though. I’ll come by later to pick up Ezra and see the color you chose. Okay?”

Mom smiles and nods.

“Hey,” Ezra says, snagging me by the fingers. “Run me to the hardware store? Your mom’s car needs new plates.”

I swallow. We haven’t updated her plates in years. Why would we? She doesn’t drive anywhere. It would be a waste of much-needed money.

Ezra’s arms wrap around my back and I let him pull me in; somehow his closeness calms my nerves. My arms thread up and around his neck and he hugs me tight. He’s making up for lost time—at least, that’s what he’s told me every day this week.

“Okay,” I say, my mouth at his ear, breathing in the heavenly cedarwood that makes up Ezra.

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