Page 51 of Yours Truly, Fall

He hands me the key, then works on sliding the case back just as Mrs. Carson sees us. “Hey there, you said you were visiting the coaches over on the training field.”

The rubber screeches as the case slides back in its place. Brandon grabs my hand and says, “This way.” We push out into the sun through the side doors and run along the sidewalk back toward the parking lot.

The sneaking around school property, stealing the key, and pissing off Mrs. Carson have me laughing as adrenaline courses through me. Seeing Brandon’s million-kilowatt smile has my heart beating faster. That or the running, but I think the credit goes to him.

Dolly was a wild child, but she got it right when she said to listen to your heart over your head. Mine is currently shouting for me to take a chance on this man. But kissing him breathless usually requires breath in the first place, and the high school parking lot isn’t exactly romantic.

I slow down just as we reach the car and bend over to catch my breath. With my fingers wrapped tightly around the ornate brass key, I look up to see him leaning against the car, which is small compared to him, and wondering if not now, when?

Just do it, Autumn. “Brandon⁠—?”

“Brandon Culver,” Mrs. Carson yells, waving a sheet of paper in the air. “You stay right there.”

“Get in,” he says, rushing to the passenger side and dipping inside just as quickly as I settle in behind the wheel and start the car, ready to peel out. We roll down our windows, so we don’t miss a thing, and because it cools me off.

Even when we’re driving away, I can hear her yelling that we didn’t sign out. I glance over at him next to me, and we both burst into laughter. “I didn’t write the date either.” I could ride the high that comes with pulling off a stunt like that all the way home. Or better yet, to his house.

“Rebel,” he replies, chuckling.

When I sneak a peek at him, the wind blowing through his hair, he has a smile that feels more like him than any other I’ve seen, and adventure brightens in his eyes that only draws me closer to him. I want his arm wrapped around me again, to feel safe under his protection as he snaps back at anyone trying to harm me, and to feel beautiful like when he looked at me earlier in the field. He didn’t see flowers; he only saw me. I gulp, knowing exactly what is happening. I have feelings for Brandon Culver. How in the world did that happen?

Seeing him in a new light, it’s easy to pinpoint exactly how that happened. And as much as I want to blame that ridiculously handsome face of his, I know it’s not that. Okay, it’s not just that. It’s his heart and who he is as a person.

I wasn’t joking earlier about him being the full package. I just didn’t realize I was susceptible to falling for him.

He laughs again, and says, “You showed her.”

“I sure did,” I mumble, staring at the road ahead, realizing I’ve detoured so far from the path I was headed that I’m not sure if I’ve lost my way or found my heart with this man.

I set the key in the console tray, having no idea what it goes to or what it will open, but it doesn’t matter right now. This, our time together, does, and I’m having the time of my life.

“What did Mrs. Carson mean when she said you were on your way out at the hospital?”

Until now.

CHAPTER 22

BRANDON

“As much as I love our town and diner, I would kill for a fast-food burger and fries right now.” She glances over, still riding the high from our getaway. “And a shake. Chocolate. What kind would you get?”

It doesn’t escape me that she’s detouring the conversation she wants to avoid. “Chocolate,” I reply, though my head is still on what Mrs. Carson insinuated. “Are you leaving Mountain Laurel Cove?”

“No, we’ll just pick up food from the store.”

I have to give it to her, though. When she’s focused, she sticks to that track like a pro. “I meant the hospital.”

“Oh.” She glances over at me. “It’s, um . . .” Her eyes return to the road. “It’s complicated, Brandon.”

The ache in my shoulders dulls on the trails my thoughts are currently trekking. The possibility of Autumn leaving doesn’t sit right. We just connected, or reconnected if we’re counting the relationship I can’t seem to remember, and now she might be leaving? I ask, “Can you elaborate?”

The smile strips away from her face, her expression tensing as her knuckles whiten on top of the steering wheel. I watch as her gaze hardens, and she stares ahead into the distance. “I don’t have plans.”

“You don’t have plans to leave or plans to stay?” I stare at her like this is my business. It’s not, but I don’t know. The past week hasn’t been as horrible as it could have been since she’s been with me. She thinks I don’t need her, and her keeping me company isn’t part of the job description. It’s not really something I can insist she stay and tend to.

Though the burning lick of increasing pain through my muscles from moving that cabinet would say otherwise. Is it so bad to want her to choose me?

We laugh like good friends.