Page 94 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

“I visited Mom in her senior community. She says all you do is work and hang around this place, haunting it like a ghost.”

I scowl. “I’m fine.”

“She just wants to make sure you’re okay. And so do I.”

“Like I said,” I growl, “I’m fine.”

Even though I’m not.

Even though things just haven’t felt right since Dad died.

Even though I’m lonely as hell.

“I know that one of the perks of the caretaker gig is that it comes with the family home. And I get that you love this place. But it might be good if you get out of here every so often. Hang with the living for once.” Andrew offers me that easy smile that makes everyone love him.

Hell, it makes me love him too. Being his brother might feel unfair sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not Andrew’s biggest fan.

“Yeah,” I concede at last. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m glad.” He slaps me on the back. “And hey, if you go while I’m here, I’ll be your wingman.”

I consider his offer in silence, evening drawing close around us.

Autumn

Deadwood, South Dakota, is exactly the last place on earth I’d like to be at this moment.

Unfortunately, that’s where I am.

I step out of the airport and inhale the Deadwood air for the first time in ages. It smells just as cold and unforgiving as it always did every time I visited my folks. They moved here after I left for the big city, saying they were after the history and the quiet.

It’s too quiet.

I’ll never understand why settlers stayed in Deadwood. Sure, at first it was for the gold, but that didn’t last long. Why remain? The winters are long, the path through the mountains punishing. At this latitude, the list of reasons to stay isn’t exactly long.

But then I guess I’m not one to talk. Here I am, darkening the doorstep of the most backwoods city I know, even though I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t move away from New York City until I was a successful working fashion model. Joke’s on me.

I shiver in the October chill and pull my coat closer around me. I’d forgotten how strong the winds are here, and how bitter.

Kind of like how bitter I am that I have to be here at all.

But it was the only move that made sense after everything that went down in New York. I barely had enough money to get here. There’s no way I could afford to live anywhere else than my parents’ basement. At least it has a private entrance and a kitchenette.

Life could be worse.

I sigh as I wait for the taxi I’d pre-booked. I wonder how many more lies I’ll tell myself in the days ahead.

Xander

Ifind myself at The Bison Saloon in downtown Deadwood. Andrew and I depleted my stash of beers at home and I couldn’t stop thinking about his offer, so now we’re here, getting our beer fresh from the tap.

And because I’m eager to prove my brother wrong — that I’m no ghost haunting our family’s graveyard.

Also, if I’m being honest with myself, that I’m scared he and Mom are right, that there’s something wrong with me. That working at the cemetery has broken me somehow.

So here I am, hanging out with the living. The problem is it only makes me feel more invisible than ever. I don’t know how to do small talk, how to attract a woman with the flick of a glance.

Not that I’m sure I want to. If I get with a woman, it’s got to be the real deal. It’ll be with a woman that fully captures me mind, body, and heart.

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