Page 98 of Falling for Autumn Again

“But Autumn, I’m here to stay. Through the good and the bad. I love you.”

I clamp down on my bottom lip, listening to his confession that never gets old.

“I’m not going to promise you we’ll never see Mav again—some things are just out of my control. But I can promise you that I’m all in. That I’m here for you. For April. For Summer.” His hands cup my jaw and cheeks, holding me, peering into my eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, we never need to see or think about Mav again. We’ll stay away from him. But even if we see him, Autumn—I’m good. Do you understand that? He can’t hurt me anymore. He isn’t allowed to affect our lives anymore.”

And for the first time—I believe that. I see it in Ezra’s eyes. Mav can’t hurt him anymore.

“Okay?”

I nod, but my emotions won’t let me speak anything aloud.

“We’ll get there, Green. I promise you that. And if I need to, I’ll wait for you. Okay?” he says.

I bob my head in his hold once more, everything inside of me wanting to shout those words.I’m in.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Ezra

Autumnand I are going to make it. I won’t ever give up on us. But there’s something I need to do. For both of us.

So, after another full day of painting the Green family home, I pull up in front of the house where I grew up. I kill my engine, not hesitating this time. I step outside and walk right up to the front door of Mav Bennett’s old house. It’s in ten times worse shape than April’s. But that’s because, unlike Ed Green, Mav never cared.

I knock on the front door, but when no one answers, I twist the doorknob and push my way inside.

“That you, Eugene?” Mav yells from the living room.

I step into the entry and take a breath. Stale and rancid odors fill my nostrils and lungs, making me wonder if he ever takes out the trash or cleans a dish.

I know this place, too well. And yet, I feel like a stranger walking inside.

“You’re late,” Mav calls.

Crossing into the small living room, I add smoke to the mix of nasty smells in this house. There are empty whiskey bottles on the floor next to his recliner. Blue illuminates his face in the lightof the TV, an old Western adoring his screen. “It’s not Eugene, Dad. It’s me, Ezra.”

His eyes scan over to me and he snorts. “So it is.” The dingy, dim light of his blue eyes ping-pongs up and down my body. “You’re back?”

The most haunting thing about being chronically drunk is that you often don't remember the sins you've committed until someone else brings them up to you. Clearly, Mav doesn't recall our encounter the other night. He was too far gone.

“I’m back,” is all I say.

He grunts. “You need money. I see.”

And while that’s ironically not completely false, I don’t want one thing from this man. “Even if I did, you don’t have any.”

Mav snorts again, his eyes back on the TV. “What then, an apology? That ain’t coming.”

“No, I suspect not. But I guess the fact that you know you owe me one means something.” I breathe, filling my chest and remembering all the things Dr. Appleby told me. I’m not a product of him. I’m whoever I choose to be.

Mav flutters his eyes up to the ceiling, looking like the child he isn’t. Neither of us are children. And he won’t treat me like one. I won’t let him.

“I’m just here to tell you that I’m back in town. I’m here to stay. But this will be my only visit to see you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Mav hiccups. “But you had to come say it to me, huh? Still have daddy issues, boy?”

“I’m far from a boy. And you were never a daddy.”

Mav’s eyes bounce back to me. “Guess you did grow up. You got money?”

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