Page 95 of Falling for Autumn Again

“Autumn—”

“You can’t stay here,” I blurt. I was right before—all along. He can’t stay here. Not with Mav. “It’ll just happen again.”

“I don’t care if it does.” He stands, the words ripping from his mouth.

“I do,” I say, my voice so much stronger than before.

“Hewon’t be the reason I do or don’t do anything.” He sounds strong and sure in this moment—and yet, I remember the boy Mav Bennett tortured just because he could.

I push up from the couch and charge back to my bathroom. I have a first aid kit back there. Ezra’s on my heels. “Sit,” I tell him, pointing to the toilet in my small bathroom.

He does, and with his obedience, I start my rant.

“He isn’t the reason you do anything?” I say, and Ezra is smart enough to keep quiet. I am talking and he is listening. “Well, guess what? He is the reason you’re bleeding. I didn’t see him give you much of a choice on that matter.”

I run a clean washcloth beneath the sink, dousing it in cold water, then press the cloth to Ezra’s cheek.

“Ow,” he grumbles.

I raise one brow—a silent,see?

I toss the cloth to the sink and rummage through my band-aid box. “He’s the reason I’m searching for butterfly bandages. He’s the reason your face is split open. He’s the—”

Ezra’s hand comes up to calm my own. “Autumn.”

A tremoring breath falls from my chest. “I’ve always known you can’t stay here. We were just kidding ourselves.”

“You’re giving him control. Don’t do that.”

I blink back the tears blinding my vision and place two small butterfly bandages over Ezra’s cut. He watches me. Like a magnifying glass in the sun, his eyes focus on me, creating an unnatural warmth over my limbs.

“How can I not?” I take one step back, inspecting my work and the bruise that’s already forming beneath Ezra’s eye.

“Autumn,” Ezra says, those burning eyes still scorching into me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry—not for him.” I never knew of the guilt Ezra took on himself, not until Phil mentioned it. I don’t want him feeling guilty.

“Let me finish.” He weaves his fingers through mine and I’m not strong enough to refuse them. “All this time, I knew I needed help. I got it, too. I can honestly say I’ve recovered from the trauma that Mav put me through. But I never realized how he traumatized you.” He peers at our knotted hands, pulling my fingers to his lips and kissing them. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that before.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Ezra

I’ve beenat the Green’s house painting every day this week. Every day, I ask April to see what I’ve done in the front and back yards. The backyard is easy. She’ll step out onto the back lawn willingly, with no prodding. But the front is always a little trickier.

“The sun is out today,” I tell her. “Yesterday it was so cloudy and the back is always shaded. You don’t get the full effect.” I stand on the dead lawn—that’ll be my next task—and beckon her outside. I stare at the house, but I study April. I watch her through my peripheral, silently pleading with her to follow me.

“I’m sure it’s not too different,” she says. She said the same thing yesterday and I got her out onto the porch.

And because I know April Green to be a kind and loving sort of woman, I use it against her. Against her… andforher, all at the same time.

“I’d really like you to see the progress I’ve made. It would mean a lot to me.”

Her brows are knit, making her look so much like her daughter in this moment. "Um."

“Just for a moment. Your yellow roses are in bloom and theyreally do look nice next to the blue.” When she doesn’t move, I add, “The yellow door was brilliant on your part.”

She takes one small step out onto the porch.

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