#1.5 Finding Autumn (6 page)

I stared at her dumbly, before finally nodding in agreement. I was glad Delia was relentless when it came to tracking me down. If my phone hadn’t been ringing, I may have ended up taking Laura home with me. It would be another mistake I could add to the string I’d been making. I could keep drinking and sleeping around to numb what was going on, but it wasn’t going to rectify the situation. If I wanted to make things right—I had to tell Autumn who I was.

I caught a ride back to campus with one of Don’s friends. Darien had tried to talk me out of going, but he backed off when I told him to leave it alone. He knew when to push and when to walk away. No one was going to keep me away from Autumn Dorey. Except Autumn herself when she cut me out of her life. She’d hate me after my confession, but at least I’d be able to look at myself in the mirror again.

The hallway tilted as I made my way toward Autumn’s room. I had no concept of time, but guessed it had to be at least after two in the morning. I had to wait outside her building for a good ten minutes, struggling to stay upright, until I was able to follow another freshman into the dorms. The doors locked after midnight and only students with a key card could get inside.

There was no hesitation on my part when I knocked on Autumn’s door. The only problem I could see was if her roommate were there. But, considering Autumn’s roommate slept at her boyfriend’s more than her own room, I was hoping she’d be scarce. The conversation Autumn and I were about to have didn’t require an audience.

I almost fell over when the door swung open. Being unsteady on my feet, I had to keep a hand on the wall to make sure I didn’t lose my balance. The moonshine was hitting me like a freight train, and I hoped everything I had to say to her would come out before I collapsed.

“What the hell are you doing here? I’m not your sponsor,” Autumn snapped as soon as she registered me. I could admit she had a point. I had to stop reaching for her when I was at my most vulnerable.

“I have to talk to you. I need to tell you something, and there’s no way I’ll spit it out if I’m sober.” I sounded like a blubbering mess. I was a coward to unburden myself after I drank my weight in alcohol. If I were any kind of man, I’d come to see her stone cold sober and lay it all out for her.

She was speaking forcefully with hand gestures for emphasis, and I tried to regain my focus. She wanted me to leave, and I didn’t blame her, but I had come here on a mission and I had to complete it. “Can I come in? I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway.”

“No. It’s not a good night. Find whoever dropped you off and get a ride home. Call me when you’re not about to puke on my floor.” She had put on her familiar, no-nonsense voice. I let out a long breath before meeting her eyes. It was then I noticed something was off. Her cheeks were damp with red splotches and her eyes were red-rimmed. Despite the stiffness in her voice, she looked so very lost. Her eyes were soulful, and I was intimidated by how strongly I could read her through them.

“Autumn, were you crying?”

She swiped her hands across her face before narrowing her eyes. “Yes, and my tolerance for your bullshit is at an all-time low tonight. I don’t know how you got the idea you have an open invitation to come to my dorm room whenever you like. It’s rude to me and would be annoying as hell to my roommate if she was here.”

“Do you want to talk about why you were crying?”

“No.”

She didn’t have to say it because I already knew. She had found out about Thomas’s release. As I looked at her—stared at this beautiful girl crying—dark rage built inside of me. I hated my stepfather—hated how he’d done something horrible to someone who was so
impossibly good
. I’d been a fool to believe his version of events, and I could admit it to myself now. Autumn was never a liar. She had trusted Thomas in the same way I had and paid the price for her naivety.

And now, I felt more revulsion over my own actions. Who had given me license to dig into her past—a past full of violence and pain? Before me was a broken girl, and I was ashamed by the sight of her. Her sorrow made me feel like I was nothing more than a puppy-kicking, no-conscience asshole.

“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.