Page 25 of Falling for Autumn Again

He growls out something incoherent.

I lift the latch on the barn front and tug. But it’s Ezra who kicks the bottom right corner of the door.Dang. I forget that he knows all the ins and outs and tricks of this place too. Ezra and I worked here side by side for three years.

The door slides open with his kick knocking all the mechanisms into place—Don never saw a reason to fix it. It works, as long as you know how to help it along.

“Whoa, you haven’t cleaned this place out yet?” Ezra says, looking at the endless piles in the barn. “You have to get the shop set up soon.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been here, okay? We know what we’re doing.”

But he’s not completely wrong. Gene bailed on me. He was supposed to help me transplant all summer but left for Nashville two months earlier than planned. He’s promised us that when he makes it big, he’ll mention us.

Gee, thanks, Gene.

“You need help.”

“I had help,” I snap. I’m angry and yet I’m not. Mostly, I don’t know what to do with him—here. He isn’t supposed to be here. He isn’t supposed to be anywhere near Mav Bennett. And selfishly, I hurt every time I look at him. That part of my life was supposed to be over. And it is—except that it’s also staring me right in the face at the moment. “My help left early, okay? We have some teens coming, but not for a few days. Don will help me when he gets back.”

“You can’t do this all on your own.”

I breathe in through my nose. I’m always on my own.

He leans against the wall of the barn, his eyes roving over me, studying me, like he might be seeing me for the very first time. “Autumn, I’m so sorry about your dad.”

Like a record cracking and screeching to a halt, my body goes rigid.Nope. We aren’t having this conversation.

“Go away, Ezra,” I tell him, that constant knot in my throatburning. I haven’t cried in years. I don’t plan to start today. I pick up two shovels and head toward my truck parked out back. Yes, I’m behind, but cleaning out the barn isn’t even on my agenda today.

I charge past him and toss the shovel and hoe in the bed of my truck, right next to the boxes and boxes of bare roots. I hop into the cab and lock the doors before he can think about jumping inside. Then, I’m off. Alone.

I’m transplanting at the complete other end of the farm, almost a mile out. He won’t follow. Not on foot. Not when he’s unsure of where I’m going. And I’ll be safely long gone before he has a chance to get in his car and follow.

Chapter Twelve

Ezra

I have no food—butthe Linus’s make sure I want for nothing. For the past two days, I have eaten every meal at their table.

“There’s a lot to do before the shop opens.”

“Always,” Dessie says, her Southern drawl on high.

“We’ll get there.” Don pats my wrist. “We’ve got some kids coming to help. Dessie will get them trained.”

I clear my throat. I have no desire to offend my long-time friends. But they’re getting older. They need more help than Autumn and a slew of high school kids. Kids who don’t know what they’re doing are more hindrance than help half the time—take it from someone who was one of those teens once. “I’d be happy to help out.”

“Don’t you have all that designin’ to do? We promised Autumn that next fall she’d have her bistro.”

“Yeah, well, that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve got a few sketches already in the works. I started the day you called. How long have you been wanting a restaurant on-site?” Or in other words—how long ago did Autumn talk you into this? It’s a harsh thought, though. Autumn’s never been a selfish person.

Don picks up my empty plate, placing it over top of his. “Dessie’s always wanted something more. A year-round shop or something similar to bring folks out in March or July, when they aren’t even thinking about Christmas.”

“Why not the shop, then? It’s already established.”

“It’s all Christmas decor.” Dessie shakes her head. “I wanted something for all year long. Autumn’s always wanted to cook—you know that. She brought this idea to us and it felt right.”

“Why doesn’t she just go open her own place? Why here?” There’s a sternness in my voice that I can’t quite shake. I can’t decide if I’m feeling angry with Autumn or protective of the Linus’s. Probably both.

“Don and I can’t man something alone, not anymore. So this works.”

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