Page 66 of Falling for Autumn Again

It’s high praise from Ed Green. I’m not sure I’ve been praised by anyone but Autumn and the Linus’s my entire life. My throat clenches at his words. Ed Green is truly the best man I know—and he just told me I was worth a dime. Something I’ve never heard from my own father.

“Thanks,” I barely get out.

His chest rumbles with a small laugh. “Of course a grown man, like yourself, will certainly have my daughter homebeforemidnight.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ezra

Okay,so I didn’t love watching Autumn walk away with scrawny, buzzed Kip. Not one little bit. But between me and Autumn, I’m the only one who could get the man’s name right. So, I can’t get too jealous. Right?

I go home, taking my plate of Autumn's insanely delicious chicken parmesan with me. My sweater did not deserve the goodness or the assault it received tonight. And I'm pretty sure Autumn's right. I don't think it'll ever recover. But that's okay because Autumn's expression when I came out half-dressed will be burned into my memory forever.

I’ll just wait for the girl to get home, then we can finish what we started. This house isn’t lacking in windows and I’ve got every single one of them open, letting in that sweet September breeze and any noise indicating that Autumn might be back.

I can hear Phil in my head telling me to find something else to do. Because sitting here waiting for the girl is doing nothing for my mental health.

There’s always a hole to be dug or a tree to be trimmed on a Christmas tree farm. Or… why not drive into town and get something to eat—because half a chicken parmesan serving isn’t cutting it for me. I hear the bowling alley has great nachos. If I happen to run into Autumn and her friendChip,so be it.

Okay, maybe that isn’t the healthiest plan either. But of my two lacking plans, I go with option number two.

I drive into town, passing Love High School where I met Autumn. I pass the old lumber shop where I spent way too much of my savings on wood to practice building things—things like birdhouses that my father took into the backyard and practiced shooting with his shotgun. He destroyed more than one of my sixteen-year-old masterpieces.

I’m still four blocks from the bowling alley, but I turn left past the lumber store as if I’m on autopilot. I’m a kid again, headed home.

I slow on Birch to three miles an hour, my eyes zoning in on the lights spilling out the living room window of the old brown house. The lawn is dead, and the baseball bat I left on the grass ten years ago is still lying there. The light from the TV flashes out the window, but I can’t see him sitting in his chair, whiskey in hand. I look, heart pounding, but I see nothing.

I’m just past the house when red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror.

“Great.” I drop my eyes to the speedometer, but I’m not speeding, not even close.

I shift my Civic into park and dig out my license and registration. My eyes dart back to the brown house and the trail of memories I’d like to forget.

The cop behind me exits his car and walks up to my vehicle with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” he says, his tone low and cool, his brows knit. His wide mustache is flat, no hint of a smile on the man’s face.

“Aw,” I scoff. “Not very.”

“That’s right. Did you know that an accident can be caused bysomeone going too slow just as easily as someone driving too fast?”

I replay his words in my mind. “I highly doubt that.”

He slides his dark glasses down to the edge of his nose. Glasses he doesn't need to be wearing—it's evening. The sun is setting, and the sky is dim.

“What did you—” he pauses, and I recognize those eyes.

“Ezra?” Canelo says. I never knew why my Mexican friend went by the nickname—in Spanish, the word means ‘cinnamon’.

“Canelo?”

He smirks. “It’s plain old Antony now.” Canelo opens up my door and leans against the open edge. “What are you doing here, man? It’s been years.”

I unbuckle and stand up to tell my old track friend hello. Canelo wraps me up in a hug before I’m completely upright.

“You’re a cop now?”

“I know, right?” he says. “Thought I’d spend some time on this side of the law to see how I like it.”

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