Page 81 of Falling for Autumn Again

“Once,” he says, “he took me aside and told me I was a good man. He told me I wasn’t my father. And that I should never see myself as a reflection of him. He told me that few rise above the hand they’ve been dealt. And that I had risen high.” Ezra sniffs. “It meant a lot to me. He saw me separate from Mav and his problems. He could very easily have asked you to stay away from me because of Mav. But he didn’t. He gave me a chance and he saw me for me.”

I swat away an escaping tear. “He was the best.”

“The very best.”

“You’ve always been more like Dad than your own father.” It’s true. Still, the words encourage us both. Logically, I know this is dangerous territory. I should be cautious. I should step back. My heart remembers all too well how it shattered when Ezra went away. And yet, it also remembers how very much it loved him.

As much as I try to forget or ignore the fact—I can’t.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ezra

“Mom?”Autumn calls, peeking her head inside the Green’s two-story house. The paint is peeling on the wooden siding outside and one of the shutters has completely come off the building. The grass is overgrown and infested with weeds. Mr. Green would hate that. He’d have never let that happen.

“Maybe she isn’t home,” I say, following after Autumn and stepping into the quiet house.

“She’s here,” Autumn says, her tone droll.

I reach for her hand and she doesn’t pull away when I slip my fingers through hers. “You’re sure?”

She pauses, tips her head up to mine, and, with her voice low, says, “My mother hasn’t left this house in five years.”

Since Ed Green died. “Never?”

“Never.”

I swallow, unsure of what we’ll find. April Green was always helping someone, never sitting still. I can’t imagine her home-bound.

April rounds the corner. Her brown hair has streaks of gray spilling through it. It’s cut short in a bob, though she used to keep it long. While she’s gained a few wrinkles since I last saw her, shestill resembles an older version of her daughter. She’s smiling, her lips dabbed in pink gloss, and her cheeks warm with a blush. She looks likeher.

“Ezra Bennett?” she calls out, joyful and somewhat shocked. She sounds like she always did. “Is that you?” Her arms open wide and her eyes drop for only a second to mine and Autumn’s clasped hands.

I’m a bit shocked she’s letting me hold her hand—and in front of her mother. Reluctantly, I slip my fingers from Autumn’s and fall into a hug from little April Green. She’s even shorter than her daughter.

Their home looks the same—maybe a little more worn, but not much. It’s clean, with photos of her girls on the wall, with Ed’s carving knife still on the end table next to his chair. That knife lies to me, making me think he’ll be next to round the corner.

I remember this place as if it were my own home. It was the happiest place of my childhood, next to the loft barn. Being alone with Autumn was always my happiest place.

“Hello, April,” I say, patting her back, then standing straight.

“I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been years.” Again, her eyes dart to her daughter. “What brought you back?”

Autumn. Though I told myself it was a job and the need for a paycheck and a place to stay. It was Autumn that brought me. I told myself she wouldn’t be here, that I wouldn’t have to face her or the past. But now I know I was only lying to Phil and myself. I wanted her to be here.

“Work, actually. I’m designing the bistro the Linus’s are opening up.”

She chuckles. “Autumn’s place?”

I nod and return April’s warm smile.

“Come sit!” April grabs me by the hand and drags me into her sitting room. The place Autumn and I weren’t allowed to hang out as kids.

“I’m going to grab your groceries, Mom.”

“Okay,” April says without bothering to offer her help. It isn’t like her. She was always helping.

“Do you need another set of hands?” I ask her. I hadn’t seen any groceries, but then it all must have been packed in the back already.

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