Page 25 of Yours Truly, Fall

My heart squeezes, but I manage to keep the tears at bay. I want to hate him as much as I always have, but he’s making it hard to keep clinging to the pain he caused years ago. Why do I keep holding it over his head like it happened yesterday? How much pain was it really anyway?

We were sixteen, hardly a thing, and nothing more than a promise. Is it that he killed the possibility or ruined the fantasy I had built in my head of how it was supposed to turn out? Probably both.

But looking at him now, I’m finally seeing things more clearly. I played a role in our past, willingly or not. It’s my reaction that shaped it, just like it did in our interaction a little while ago.

Swaying to the side, I lean my hip against the rail and grin. “You’re letting me off easy when I really don’t deserve it.”

A devastating smile slides onto his face when he looks at me, causing my knees to betray me by weakening. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Autumn.”

I tighten my grip on the wood, still daring to look straight at him. “Do they? Even if they hurt you?”

He nods, returning his gaze to the mountain in the distance. “Especially those who hurt you. That hurt came from somewhere. Or was it an unintended consequence of a poor choice? We all make them at some time or another.” Glancing at me, he adds, “But that’s the last chance they’re being given, so they better not blow it.” The slightest of grins still stands, but I see the resolution in his eyes. “Know what I mean?”

He would offer me more than I’ve been able to offer him in all the years I’ve known him. A second chance. A clean slate. “I know what you mean.” I look at the ocean so far away, trekking the coastline until I lose the water and the part of the cove where I live to the mountain. My heart pangs, wishing it could bring me the comfort I so need right now. It’s beautiful here, but I’m a fish out of water in his territory. “A fresh start.” That’s not what I’ve given him, although I thought I had. I just hope he gives me the opportunity this time. “I know we tried this once before, but what do you say we start over again?”

“I don’t need to give you a second chance,” he says. I do owe him the truth about our past, even if he doesn’t think so quite yet. He will. When and how that information will be revealed is yet to be determined.

“I was hoping you’d do me the favor for how I reacted.”

“Nah.” He chuckles under his breath. “We’re just getting comfortable. There are bound to be slipups.”

I grin into the wind as if I can hide it from him. He nudges me with his elbow. “Since I’m up and I got you out here, do you mind looking me over? I’m having trouble checking out my back in the mirror.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it. Turn.” I drop my gaze to the deck and slide up his backside when he’s not looking. When did Brandon Culver grow into this… this… this model of a man? I bite my bottom lip and study his spine.

“Thanks for taking on the dirty work.” He chuckles louder this time, more carefree, allowing some room for humor to return.

“It’s why I’m paid the big bucks.” His eyes shoot to mine over his shoulder. “I’m not paid big bucks, for the record.” I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it's sadly true. Laugh so I don’t cry. “As a first responder, you probably relate too well.”

“If it did pay the big bucks, what would you do with the money?”

Trailing over every rise and fall of his body’s topography, I reside on the bruising a bit longer. I study the edges, looking for the blurriness I like to see during the healing process. I reach forward but stop, and ask, “Do you mind if I touch your spine?”

“You can touch me.” Despite it sounding like an invitation, I run the tip of my finger from his neck to his lower spine, keeping the pressure light but with enough to find any pain. There’s no wincing and no reflexive flexing under my touch.

“You’re healing nicely, Brandon.”

“I like being Brandon with you over the alternative.”

“Mr. Culver?”

Turning around, he grips the railing behind him. “Yeah. But if you prefer the more formal, I’ll let you call me Lieutenant.”

I balk before a tidal wave of laughter swells and rolls through me. “You’ll let me?” Snickering, I reply, “Got it, Lieutenant Culver.” The sound of it brings images of him dressed like Maverick in Top Gun—shirtless while playing volleyball on the beach and a flight suit with aviator glasses. Long overdue desire runs through me at warp speed, reaching my breasts and perking my nipples. I cross my arms over my chest to hide the physical reaction I’m having to him while questioning what the heck is happening. It’s Brandon Culver, for Pete’s sake. Of all the men to be turned on by, this is an unexpected turn of events, and not welcome.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Oh my God! He can tell. He rights himself again, rubbing his hand over his injured shoulder. “You can say no.”

“No,” I snap in a panic, walking away from him to hide whatever kind of reaction I’m having to him. I’m positive I don’t want to get more personal than what’s already occurring.

“Okay,” he replies, sounding more injured than I found him at the hospital. “Sorry for⁠—”

He’s not responsible for turning me on. Well, technically he is, but he doesn’t know he did. Does he? What is wrong with me? He’s a patient, not my personal fantasy come to life. Oh geez. Get your mind out of the gutter and cover your butt. “I’m just joking. Ha. Ha. Ha.” I fake laugh, struggling to find a smile in this mess and now freaking out that he could ask me anything and I’ve said it’s okay. Oh Lordy. “You can ask, but no promises I’ll answer.”

“That’s fair.” The smile that seems to come easy to him most of the time falters, but his eyes on me never do. “What’s your last name?” Oh, thank God.

“Season.” I think about possible implications of him knowing this, still surprised he didn’t know it already. But I’m not going to hide who I am, and a conversation about my name beats talking about my traitorous nipples. And what if it helps him remember? This could be a good thing.

“Autumn Season?” The wide eyes and lifted brow, the gaping mouth—Yep, this is the typical reaction, so I wasn’t expecting less. “Next you’re going to tell me your sisters are⁠—”