Page 90 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

I roll and reach across the mattress for her.

My hands find only empty sheets.

The honey cools and congeals in my veins, replaced by thick, icy fear.

She’s gone. Of course she’s gone. It’s what she does — she leaves, just when it looks like things might turn out okay after all.

I curl my fingers into a fist and slam it into my pillow.

I was a fool. A naive, dreaming fool. How could I have let myself believe that Isla Ingersole would let herself be anyone’s, let alone mine?

I feel so stupid.

A metallic shriek reaches my ears. I freeze, pouring all of my attention into listening. There, another squeal. It’s coming from downstairs — from the garage.

I leap out of bed and shove my legs into yesterday’s jeans. Grabbing the baseball bat I keep under my bed for just this sort of occasion, I make for the stairs.

My blood courses hot through me. I find that I’m hoping for an altercation, a way to release some of the pain that Isla’s just caused. This is not the day for an intruder to mess with me.

I hurl open the front door of my loft and look out over the garage at the machinery bathed in watery morning light.

There’s that sound again. I glide down the stairs, bare feet hardly a whisper on the wood planks. Rounding the corner, eyes scanning the space, I see the cause of the it.

Isla. Sitting at the main counter tapping away on the laptop that serves as our time clock, point of sale, record keeper, graphic designer, and everything in between. The metal shop stool she sits on squeals as she shifts her weight on it.

I lower the bat, blinking furiously as if she’ll disappear once I clear my eyes. She’s perched there wearing — I swallow, hard — one of my plaid button-up flannels and that’s it. Her bare legs wind around the struts of the stool, reminding me of how our bodies twined together last night.

I must make a sound, because her eyes fly to me in alarm. She smiles when she sees it’s me, and it’s like watching the sun emerge from behind September storm clouds.

“Hey,” she says. “I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I got up. Then I thought I’d do a little research. I made some coffee.” She points to the mug resting on the counter beside the laptop. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Research?” I’m having a hard time piecing together the meaning of her words.

“Well,” she says, a teasing smile playing over her face as she gets up to come wind her arms around my neck, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” She kisses my bare chest. I try to suppress a shiver, and fail.

“Thinking?” Apparently I’ve lost my faculties and can only repeat something she’s just said. Fantastic.

“I left Edgewood because I needed to.” Her fingers trace the muscle lines of my belly. I suck in a breath, trying to concentrate. Did she just say something about leaving Edgewood? I brace myself for the news that’s got to be coming — she’s leaving again. Of course. It was ridiculous of me to hope, yet again, for anything else.

She continues. “But now . . . things have changed. Thingsarechanging.” Her eyes rove my face, and they contain more than lust. “It’s been too long. I’ve kept Guin from her family, and with everything with Mom . . .” She shakes her head, blonde hair sweeping across her forehead. Without thinking I push it back and tuck it behind an ear. “It’s not right.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s not right?”

“Staying away.”

My jaw drops. I’m gaping like a fool, but I don’t care. My heart fixes on her words and the promise that I think I hear within them. I grab her shoulders, squeezing. “Isla. What are you saying?”

She stretches onto tip-toes to leave a whisper of a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’m saying that I’m not leaving this time. I’m staying in Edgewood.”

“You’re serious?” My voice is suddenly harsh with emotion.

Isla grins. “Absolutely. Unless,” her smile dims, “you can think of a reason why I shouldn’t.”

I seize her by the waist and lift her, my cheeks wet with tears even while I laugh with joy. “I can only think of reasons for you to stay.”

“Good.” She takes my face in her hands. “Because you are one of those reasons. A very important reason.”

Her lips are on mine, and I press into her with primal need and unadulterated happiness. Her cheeks are as slick as mine, and I can’t tell if it’s my tears or if she’s crying too.

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