Page 1 of Fall I Want
Chapter 1
Autumn
I’m three steps from the office when the bell above the main door of Cozy Coffee sounds. I pause, realizing I forgot to lock it after I entered. My heart rate doesn’t increase, but I spot a clear path to the emergency exit in case someone is being nefarious.
The two very full glasses of cheap wine I drank before bed and the fantasy that ripped me from dreamland haven’t done me any favors this morning. I might as well be a zombie because my brain isn’t functioning yet.
“Autumn!” my best friend, Julie, yells in her motherly tone from across the building. Thankfully, she’s not a murderer. Not that I was concerned. Cozy Hollow is safe, and most people don’t even lock the doors to their homes.
I flick on the overhead light and set my keys on the desk.
As I look around the tiny room with its single exposed redbrick wall, I realize how disappointed younger me would be knowing we’re working the same job I had at sixteen. The only difference is now I have the fun title of Assistant Manager, thanks to Julie’s parents, who promoted us both.
Back then, I believed I’d become an inspirational story: barista turned mega best-selling author. I went to a prestigious university for undergrad and received a master’s degree in fine arts fromanother. As it stands, I graduated nearly a decade ago and have nothing to show for it.
By my thirties, I was supposed to be thriving, but my creative well is bone dry and has been since the breakup from Hell.
“What if I were a robber?” Julie scolds as her chunky-heeled boots clunk against the hardwood floor.
As soon as September first rolls around she pulls those vintage, dark leather Doc Martens from her closet. They have a distinct sound when she walks.
Less than a minute later, my bestie greets me at the doorway wearing a serious expression and stares at me. Her bright red hair is twisted into a low bun, and her spider headband matches her dangly earrings. When the Halloween accessories appear, I know my favorite season has officially arrived. Autumn isn’t just my name; it’s my entire personality 365 days out of the year.
“What?” I finally ask.
“You know better, Autie. Considering you devour slasher movies like you’ll croak next week, you’d think you’d be aware of the risks.”
“At this point, I’d welcomeanyadventure to break me out of the monotony of my so-called life.”
I’m not even Bill Murray in that 90s movieGroundhog Day; I’m in an oblivious, non-supporting role stuck in a loop. My soon-to-be psychologist sister believes it’s one of my cycles and has given me solid advice, but nothing has worked. I’m broken and boring.
“You should be careful what you wish for,” she warns. “Words carry power. You of all people know that.”
“I’m not into the superstitious stuff,” I remind her, or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself.
“You say that, but you won’t walk under a ladder, and you’ve complained about that bad luck mirror you broke for two years.”
She’s right. Maybe I’m alittlesuperstitious. It’s better to be safethan sorry, right? While it’s annoying that she’s almost always right, she knows me better than I know myself and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.
I bend down and type in the code to the safe. The door clicks open, I remove the money drawers and then count them down to ensure we have the correct starting bankroll.
“Sometimes I worry about you.” She sets her coffin-shaped purse on the desk next to my keys.
“This is Cozy Hollow, Jules.” I don’t explain further because she’s memorized the safety statistics.
“Yeah, and you’ve always heard people on TV sayI never thought it would happen here. It only takes one bad pumpkin to ruin the whole damn patch. You’re too trusting, and your situational awareness is lacking. Did you even notice me on your walk to work this morning? I trailed you the entire time.”
She tucks a tube of dark brown lipstick into her back pocket then waits for my answer. “Youneversaw me,” she finally says, not needing confirmation.
She’s been overprotective of me and Blaire, like a big sister, for as long as we’ve known each other. Not to mention she is a year older than us both. However, her paranoia about being kidnapped is why her parents enrolled her in karate lessons in second grade. They thought she would grow out of it. She hasn’t.
Pretty girls going missing in neighboring small towns kept her up at night for years. Nothing like that has or will ever happen in Cozy Hollow.
“Don’t worry about me, bestie. On my walks here in the early morning, I always have this.” I pick up my key chain, showing her the pepper spray in its orange and black bedazzled case. It sparkles under the overhead light.
“At least I’ll sleep better knowing you’re protected.” She’s being sincere.
“Good. I’m fine. I promise. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a strong man to walk me to and from work every day.”
