#1.5 Finding Autumn

by Heather Topham Wood

  “Do you really want me to leave?” Please say no, I silently begged as an innate need arose inside my core to help her. I may not have been the one who had shattered her—not yet anyway—but I had to shoulder some responsibility for her pain. I’d been one of her accusers, believing the worst instead of facing the truth. Loving someone evil was a small burden compared to what she had faced.

  A hiccupping sob escaped her lips and I could see the way she was struggling to keep it together. In the past two years, how many times had she been forced to hold back her emotions? She’d been vilified despite the fact she was the victim. She needed to know my truth—but not tonight. Tonight, she needed a friend.

  Finally, she stepped aside to let me into the room. I reacted on instinct and scooped her up in my arms. “Come here,” I whispered into her ear. She felt good—too good—and I had to make a concentrated effort to not have a physical reaction when her slight body was pressed against mine. An emotional reaction was unavoidable. I wanted to keep her next to me forever and protect her from all the bad shit in the world.

  I guided her away from the door and she stiffened in my arms. “Where?”

  “To bed.” The suggestion put a panicked look on her face, and I tried to lighten my tone. “I’m not going to try anything. I promise.” She didn’t seem certain if she believed me, but I meant every word. She might not be psychologically safe from me, but she was physically safe. Although she didn’t completely trust me, I’d never cross any lines with her.

  I fell onto her bed and she followed soon after. My shoes came off, and I tried to shift around to make room for her. Her bed was tiny, and she was crushed against my chest once she lay down. She set her ear over my heart, and I tried to control my breathing. I needed to be a rock for her, and I tried to conceal what kind of effect she had on me. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  The culpability in my tone forced me to close my eyes. If anyone had told me a few months ago I’d end up in bed with Autumn Dorey, I would have punched him in the face. But I was here with her, and I never wanted to leave.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She had steel in her voice and I understood how much she wanted to avoid the topic of Thomas’s release. I could have avoided talking about him, too, but I was playing a game of chicken with her. If she opened up, maybe I’d have the balls to tell her who I was.

  “What did you come to tell me?” she asked.

  I had been so sure about confessing, but feeling her in my arms was putting me in panic mode when I started to think about what it was I was going to lose. In the end, she would fucking hate me. “It’s not important now.”

  In a sense, it was the truth. Autumn needed someone to comfort her at the moment and I was there. I wanted to get her talking. I understood what it did to a person to keep everything bottled up, and I didn’t want that fate for her.

  “Autumn,” I said. “You can tell me anything. I swear I’m not going to judge you…”

  Autumn’s muscles went taut, and I could hear in her voice how much my words upset her. “Judge me?” she asked quietly, into my chest. “What are you talking about?”

  My drunkenness had distorted my words. I was trying to make her feel safe and have her understand she could talk to me about what had happened in her past. But I was messing up my chance. “I mean that whatever you say to me won’t change anything between us,” I said, backtracking, praying the moonshine would stay at bay for a moment while I chose my words. “We’re friends, and I want to know everything about you. Whatever has you upset, you can talk to me about—”

  She interrupted me and lifted her head, staring at me with pleading in her soft brown eyes. “I can’t, Blake. I just want to turn my brain off for a few hours and not even think about it.”

  I let it go. I’d give her anything she asked for at this point. I’d been a blind fool and it hurt to know how utterly wrong about everything I’d been. Autumn Dorey had always been the wronged one, but I had refused to see the total truth. Thomas had clouded my vision, forcing me to consider his twisted version of that night as the truth.

  “Try to relax, and I’ll be here when you wake up. I swear, Autumn, I only want to be your friend,” I said.

  Pulling her close, I could feel her muscles relax and her body curl into my own. Her movements pained me. I was torn in two: wanting to help her get through the anguish caused by my stepfather, while also knowing I was playing a dangerous game. Any relative of Thomas Bridges wouldn’t be welcome in her life. Yet, if she could see inside my head, she’d appreciate how much things had changed since I first saw her at the Football House.

  Autumn had destroyed me when I saw her crying. It had brought on the strongest desire to drive down to the jail and wrap my hands around Thomas’s throat. I blamed him for the hellish predicament I was embroiled in. It was tempting to imagine what things would be like for Autumn and me if he never existed. I thought about how I could have met her at the party and started dating her without having to lie to her every single day. Thomas was locked away in a prison hours away, but he was still able to orchestrate a coming catastrophe. There were no means to avoid how wrecked she and I would end up if I dared to kiss her.

  For the night, I wouldn’t think about the future. I’d slip into the familiar role of the fixer. I couldn’t do much for her. What I had to offer was like giving aspirin for a brain tumor. But I still had to try to help.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke up with a painful erection coupled with a debilitating hangover. It took a concentrated effort to open my eyes. The unfamiliar room took me aback. As the fog cleared, I remembered the party and then coming over to Autumn’s. However, it still didn’t explain why I was lying in her bed clad only in my boxers when the last memory I had involved us both being fully dressed. My mouth went dry as I noticed her with the blanket lifted up and her head tilted down.

  “What are you doing?” I managed.

  “Oh crap! You startled me!” Slamming the blanket down, she scurried away from me and pushed her back into the headboard. Her reaction was my worst nightmare come true. What happened between when I passed out the night before and the morning? If I took advantage of her, I’d hate myself a thousand times more than I already did.

  “I have the worst hangover in the world; and, honestly, things are a little blurry for me about last night. Did we…?” I could have collapsed with relief when she cut in, not allowing me to even finish the thought.

  “No, of course not.” Her face betrayed her embarrassment over the fact I had just caught her checking me out. It was endearing to see her flustered, but I couldn’t allow my affection for her get in the way of what I knew must be done.

  It wasn’t much comfort to hear her tell me we hadn’t been together. Because the way she was watching me heightened my awareness of how deep her feelings ran—serious feelings that would leave her broken-hearted if we crossed the line from friends to lovers. As we sat for a moment in silence, her lips were parted and I saw the affection toward me in her eyes. Being drawn to her wasn’t something I had control over, but I must have had shit for brains to act on the impulse by coming over the night before.

  Jumping out of bed, I located my pants, realizing I must have undressed at some point during the night. I was panicked—not only about being partially clothed, but how badly part of me craved the thought of crawling into bed to be back beside her. I made a lame joke about how we were lucky I didn’t end up butt-naked, but it fell flat. There was too much sexual tension permeating our breathing space. Everything I said or did from this moment forward would affect where our relationship was headed.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, and I could sense her lost in her own little world. I took a seat next to her and waited. She looked at where our legs were touching and I felt my skin prickle at her stare. It was likely she had no idea how much I wanted to kiss her. She was beautiful in a way that made the hurt come back if I stared at her for too long. Because looking at her shattered the illusion
in my mind. I could under no circumstances, in good conscience, kiss her.

  Autumn tilted her body in my direction, and I saw her entire heart in her eyes. She hid nothing, and I couldn’t begin to comprehend how much it must’ve taken for her to put herself out there. She pressed her lips together and started to bend forward in my direction. I was tempted and rationalized one small kiss couldn’t hurt. But I had the strangest sensation if I kissed her—I’d never be able to stop.

  I wished for a pause button—a way to get a few minutes to really think my actions through. Because once I kissed her, there was no taking it back. I was setting into motion something that could never be undone.

  She must have noticed my hesitation, and her cheeks turned pink. Her head twisted away from mine, as if she was trying to save face. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. I would kiss her senseless if it was an option.

  “Autumn, I think I messed up. I shouldn’t have come over here last night. I was drinking and I saw you called as I was leaving. It won’t happen again.”

  “Do you not like me? Is it an attraction thing?” she asked with tightness in her voice. I could feel her emotions. She was confused and irritated by the mixed signals I’d been sending out.

  No matter what had happened to her in high school, it hadn’t stripped her of who she was inside. She was too fearless—too full of life—to ever be anything but incredible. “Don’t do that,” I said. “Don’t look for ways to get me to say how beautiful you are.”

  My words got a rise out of her. Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not. It’s just I know you see a lot of girls, and I’m wondering why you’re so against the idea of kissing me. Figured I would check to see why I don’t meet your standards.” Her expression contorted into a blend of hurt and anger.

  Her emotions impressed upon my own, and I jumped off of the bed to put distance between us. If I were close enough to smell the honey scent on her skin, it would make the process of pushing her away impossible to accomplish. “Autumn, you’re acting like the same people you claim to hate. You’re making assumptions about me based on what people at school say. I’m not the type of guy to run around hooking up with girls and bragging about it.”

  She sniffed, and I could see regret seep into her features. Quickly, she apologized for not being above the rumor mill. She had opened up to me somewhat in the months we spent together as friends. She had told me about being harassed in school—being called a slut and a cock-tease. She blamed the rumors on her ex-boyfriend—a dick who treated her like crap and spread lies about their relationship. I had already known most of the stuff said about her in high school. Delia and I would spend hours online looking up what we could about Autumn. The Facebook page dedicated to Autumn was a masterful move on the part of her ex-friends. The obvious intention was to display Autumn’s wild side and undermine her testimony against my stepfather. The page was taken down a few weeks later, but it left a lasting impression on my sister and me. Delia felt vindicated, as if the virtual words and images were proof of Thomas’s innocence.

  As I thought about Autumn’s disloyal high school friends, I understood it was time to stop my selfish behavior. I liked her, but where were we headed? We couldn’t be a couple, and as much as I wanted to at least be her friend, I was the worst kind of friend to have. I was a liar and a schemer, and I couldn’t do it anymore. The guilt was getting to be too much.

  “I’m not trying to be an ass here,” I said with an apology resonating in my voice. “I may have given you shit about Josh, but if you’re looking to get involved with someone, he’s the right kind of guy for you. We’re not good for each other.”

  I ignored the vomit-inducing sensation caused by the suggestion. I wanted to kill any fucker who came sniffing around her. The last thing I wanted was to see her dating anyone, but I had to steer her feelings away from me. I’d been trying to come off as disinterested, but it was useless. Autumn seemed to possess the ability to see past my artificiality and to know innately when I was sincere or not.

  She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why? Is it because I look like your ex?”

  My pounding headache worsened at her line of questioning. “What? Where would you get that idea?”

  “You were staring me down at that party and said later I reminded you of someone. It didn’t sound like a favorable comparison, so I assumed it was an ex-girlfriend.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and I could see her struggling to hold it all together. When she had asked me for an explanation about my strange behavior the night we met, I claimed it was a case of mistaken identity. It never occurred to me that it would lead her to assume I was referring to an ex.

  “You’re nothing like her.” I gasped. It was as close to the truth as I was willing to come. She was nothing like the Autumn Dorey I had envisioned in my mind. Or the fabricated version created by Thomas.

  “So, it’s you then?” Autumn demanded.

  “If you knew everything about me, you’d be running as far away from me as humanly possible.”

  “Tell me and let me decide for myself,” she said flatly. Her stony expression told me she was expecting answers and wouldn’t be satisfied with my lame attempts at skirting around the truth.

  If I ever needed an opening to come clean, it would never be better than that. I tried to figure out what to say, how to possibly defend my actions, but I was speechless. What I’d been doing was indefensible. I was never truly myself with anyone, and I had hoped to have the chance with Autumn. But it wasn’t meant to be. I understood how impossible our situation was when I noticed her looking at me as if she could see right through me. She seemed offended by my hesitation and asked me to go. She seemed suddenly intent on shutting me out.

  I was unhinged and the truth was a loaded gun I was concealing in my back pocket. To keep her safe, I had to stay the hell away from her.

  “I’m a coward, and as much as you deserve to know the truth about me, I can’t tell you,” I said with regret. “I like you, and I can’t stand the idea of you thinking I’m a piece of garbage.”

  She asked me to leave again as I tried to apologize. She had been mine and I had pushed her away in the span of seconds. By the look on her face, I assumed her hurt was gradually being replaced by anger and frustration. She had no idea that painting myself as a bad guy was my warped way of protecting her. She had suffered too much and didn’t need another person in her life that would end up hurting her. I wished things could be different, but I couldn’t change who I was.

  As I started to walk away, I felt like I was deserting her. After the promise I made to myself that I’d take care of her, I was leaving. I left her room cast as another villain, and it was the role I had to remain in.

  ***

  “What the fuck was that about, Blake?”

  “Watch your mouth. I may be your brother, but you shouldn’t curse so much.”

  Delia laughed humorlessly. “My father is serving time at the state pen. Since he’s been locked up, he’s taught me how to curse, trade cigarettes, and make prison tats. Can’t blame me for my poor upbringing.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  We sat across from each other at a diner in Clark. For several years, we had been going to the same diner. It was our place to hang out when we needed a breather from our parents. With the outdated wallpaper and broken floor tiles, it was high up on the dive scale. Nevertheless, they made the best cheeseburgers in town.

  It was a week since I ran out on our family dinner and I was trying to make it up to Delia. My mom had plans for the night and her absence was a welcome respite. I didn’t want her probing over my lack of enthusiasm about Thomas’s release. She had been calling me non-stop since my freak out. She was insistent over resolving my issues with Thomas before he returned home.

  “Blake, are you even fucking listening to me?”

  I shot Delia an annoyed look before taking a long gulp of water. “You’re only doing it now to get a rise out of me.”

  “You know me so we
ll.” Delia tossed back her long hair and leaned forward, her blue eyes trained on my face. “Anyway, I asked what’s going on with you. You ran out of dinner like your ass was on fire and avoided my calls all week long.”

  “I just have stuff going on.”

  “Blake, things between you and Dad are messed up. I get it,” she said with exasperation. “But we need to support him. The last time I saw him, he looked awful. He had a bruise on his face that he couldn’t explain. He’s lost a ton of weight….”

  “Stop it,” I begged her. She wouldn’t force me to feel sympathy for him. I was trying in my own crazy-ass way to come to terms that the man I had thought of as “Dad” was a sex offender. And then my heart decided to fuck up my life by making me fall for his victim.

  Delia ignored my pleas. “He told me he’s written you. What did he say in the letters?”

  I hadn’t planned to read the letters. Setting them on fire as soon as they arrived seemed like a better plan. But I couldn’t help myself. I was looking for something in his letters—some sort of explanation for what he’d done. Reading them anyway was a fool’s errand, because words could never adequately explain why Thomas attempted to rape his student.

  “He misses me and wants to see me. He’s sorry for what he’s put our family through,” I said shortly. Delia nodded, pleased with the answer. I didn’t want or need his apology. If Thomas wanted to express regret to someone, it should be to Autumn.

  “He’ll be home in a couple of months, and we can finally move on. Isn’t that what we’ve been waiting for?” Delia asked.

  I watched my sister for a long minute. I had to tread carefully. Delia could come off as fierce at times, but she had a fragile side most people rarely saw. “Do you think about it at all, Del? About what he did?”

  Delia frowned at the question. “Of course I do. I’m almost the same age now as the girl he screwed. It makes me sick to think about him doing the nasty with some high school girl behind Mom’s back.” Before I could respond, she added, “But it doesn’t make what he did criminal. Aren’t all men the same? Thinking with their dicks instead of their brains?”