Page 20 of Yours Truly, Fall

The golden hue flooding the room dims as the sun begins its final descent. I move back to the window to take it in. That view peacefully washes through me, bringing a welcome reprieve from the past few hours. My chest feels looser, and breathing comes easier. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to breathe like I have time to spare.

This job is coming at the right time, and despite the circumstances of my arrival, I refuse to let the patient’s attitude sway me from doing my job. I’ve dealt with difficult patients before. Brandon aside, with this view to wake up to, I should be grateful for the change in scenery and the slower pace, which will keep me grounded in the here and now. I’ll take this mountain view to sterile hospital hallways any day.

What I don’t like is the sea of bland browns everywhere. He has a whole landscape outside, the trees and ocean in the distance, and he chose to surround himself with brown. Utterly uninspiring. Says a lot about Brandon’s dating life over the years. The most eligible bachelor title comes to mind again. He might be the king of his domain, but there’s not a queen’s touch to be found in this place. The walls, the sheets and blankets, and the curtains are all in varying shades of brown, from beige to chocolate. I want to relax into sleep, not be bored into it.

Stacking another pillow, I punch it into place, setting my thoughts on tasks to be accomplished and off the man with those incredible biceps lying on the couch in the other room. Wait . . . ugh. Don’t go there, Autumn.

I take one more peek into the bathroom to make sure the towel is where I want it and a stack of washcloths is by the sink, just in case he needs help in here. When I walk down the hall, I hear Brandon and his mom whispering. I don’t want to sneak up on them or have them thinking I’m an eavesdropper, so I clear my throat. “The bedroom is set up. I think you’ll be more comfortable in there, but I can make any adjustments needed once you’re settled in bed.”

Brandon’s eyes track me as I cross the room. “What is the protocol?”

“For?” I ask, sitting on a barstool.

“You being here.”

His mom stands from the chair where she’s been keeping him company, and weaves around the coffee table. “I need to get going before it’s too dark or I’ll be stuck here.” She comes to the kitchen peninsula and grabs her handbag. Looking at me, she says, “That stretch of dirt road is not my friend in broad daylight, much less at night.”

There’s just enough glow coming up from the distance to give some light, but it’s fading fast. I stand and start to walk with her to the door. “A bit treacherous. Will you be safe?”

“I will, dear, thank you. And thank you for coming to take care of Brandon.” At the door, she lowers her voice and whispers, “He won’t show it, but he appreciates the help.”

I grin, glancing at him. Nothing about his sourpuss expression makes me think he’s amused by what she said, if he heard her. Looking back at her, I whisper, “Don’t worry. I’m used to difficult patients.”

She looks back once more to her son. “Autumn’s here to help. Listen to the professional. Love you.”

He replies, “Love you, too, Mom,” as she walks out the door.

“Good to see you again, Brenda.” I shut the door, then lean my back against it. “Time to party.”

Horror crosses his face as soon as his mouth opens. “What?”

I laugh, returning to the living room. “I’m just kidding. You know, your parent is gone, so I thought I’d make a joke.” I’m still grinning but mutter under my breath, “You’re no fun.”

“I’m fun.” Oops, guess he heard me.

Sitting in the chair to face him, I shrug. “Don’t have to prove anything to me.”

His brown eyes stay on mine as he watches me like I’m about to do a magic trick. “You’re different than you were at the hospital.”

This should be good. I rest back, making myself at home since it will be for the next week. “How so?”

He drags his gaze to the knee I’ve lifted and then lowers it to the other foot resting on the floor. “Relaxed.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No, just different.” Sliding down the arm of the couch, he leans his head against a cushion. I’m sure he’s tired, so I don’t know why he’s forcing himself to stay awake.

“Well, I was working at the hospital where whispers and warnings go hand in hand.” I glance behind him, met with the remaining minutes of daylight in the distance, before looking around his house. “Here, it’s just us.”

His lids become heavier, and he stifles a yawn. “Yeah, just us. So what do we do now?”

“Your mom mentioned that you already ate dinner, but I didn’t have time before coming over.”

A long dip of his eyelids has me wondering whether I should go ahead and move him to the bed or let him nap where he is. I’m wide awake, so there’s no harm in letting him rest on the couch. I didn’t see a TV in his room, so if he wakes up later, I’ll have to help him return to the living room.

He exhales slowly like he just got something off his chest, managing to turn his gaze on me again. “She brought over a lasagna. She makes the best. Help yourself.”

My stomach growls in response, filling me with an unwarranted embarrassment. Everyone eats. I’m not unique like that. “Sounds good. Thanks.” I stand, taking the remote from the table and setting it within his reach. Kneeling beside him, I ask, “How are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort?”