Page 11 of Sins of Autumn

For fourteen days.

Fourteen fucking days.

It didn’t sound like much, just hours and seconds when you broke it down, but when it felt like part of you was missing, when the pain twisted itself into something physical, clawing at your chest, fourteen days was endless. Each second dragged, and each minute felt like a lifetime. Nights were the worst. The silence and the absence of his warmth were a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.

Part of me was relieved, thankful for the space to breathe and sort through the mess he’d made of me. Mostly, I was crushed. I hated the tiny voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe I didn’t matter to him as much as he always claimed. It was relentless, eating away at the fragile pieces of my heart I was desperately trying to hold together. Every day had been a battle, a rollercoaster of hysterics, rage, and a sickening emptiness I couldn’t shake.

The anger kept me afloat, burning bright enough to drown out the hurt, but it was fleeting. Always so damn fleeting. I wasn’t sure what I would get out of this spontaneous vacation, but a change of scenery couldn’t hurt. Right?

The faint beep of the security system announced the front door opening, pulling me from my spiral. I didn’t think twice about it. Cherish had run out to grab ice for the coolers; she didn’t want to deal with it in the morning before we headed out. I backed out of the closet with a pair of sweatpants in hand, wondering what to match them with.

“Taking a trip without me?”

I yelped, my heart slamming against my ribs. Whipping around, my pulse thundered in my ears as my gaze landed on him.

“Wilder?”

He was leaning casually against the wall beside my now-closed bedroom door.

His eyes fixed on me with the unrelenting intensity that always stripped me bare. He looked infuriatingly perfect as if the last two weeks hadn’t gutted him the way they had me. He was so damn gorgeous this could have been an image in a men’s magazine. The smirk tugging at his lips was one I knew too well.

For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The storm of questions that had haunted me every day since that night surged forward, demanding answers. I wasn’t sure I wanted them anymore. I certainly didn’t need them. Whatever answers he had would not be beneficial to me moving on. I was pretty certain they would just split me open all over again.

“You like the flowers?”

What a stupid, rhetorical question. I had been going out of my way to make them all live for as long as they could. He knew I liked flowers. There were four massive vases in my room. More were downstairs.

“What are you doing here?” I asked in place of answering.

“I needed to see you up close.”

That implied he’d seen me from a distance. I scoffed, crossing my arms like it would protect me from the weight of his presence. “So, you show up in my bedroom?”

“I just need you to listen,” he said, cutting me off, his voice soft but commanding. “Can you do that for me?”

“How the hell did you even get inside the house?”

He smiled, and my stupid heart flipped. “Cherish left the door unlocked. Convenient, isn’t it?”

“More like reckless,” I shot back, my arms tightening. “You need to leave.”

“I’ll go,” he assured, way too smoothly, his tone almost playful. “After we finish talking.”

That word felt like a cruel joke, given the way he looked at me, like I was still his.

“You don’t get to decide when we talk, Wilder,” I snapped, desperate to drown out the war raging inside me. “And you sure as hell don’t get to just show up here like this just because you can.”

“But I did show up, Mint,” he replied, his tone softening, “You’re going to listen to me whether you want to or not.We can always do this the hard way. I know that’s your favorite.”

My face flushed. I tried to hold his gaze, but my mind betrayed me, spiraling. It felt much longer than two long, miserable weeks since I’d felt him inside me. We’d always been insatiable, unable to get enough of each other, stealing moments whenever and wherever we could. Sometimes it wouldn’t even be sex, he’d just hold me close and everything else melted away.

The memories twisted something sharp and ugly in my chest. It disgusted me how much I missed him.

My body ached for someone who clearly wasn’t mine, not wholly. My heart was one thing. It had belonged to him and only him for years. He was my first everything beyond a few meaningless kisses. I thought I was safe in his hands. My eyes began to burn, and I silently cursed.

“I can’t stand that look on your face.”

Why did that sound so sincere? He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us in a few quick strides. My breath caught as I really took him in—slacks and a button that hugged his fit frame. I shifted, instinctively stepping to the side, keeping my eyes locked on him. I wasn’t afraid of Wilder, I never had been, but I knew he thrived on control. I had always happily given it to him. Now he could go fuck himself.

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