"Needles," I say weakly, and my one-word explanation seems to be enough for Linda and Melody.
"Happens all the time." Melody waves a hand around like it was no big deal.
"Autumn, why don't you get out of here for a while?" my mom suggests.
“No. I’m good.”
Owen breaks in. "She's right, Autumn. The treatment takes a while. Will you be okay in here for a few hours?"
I glance back at the IV in my mom’s arm and another wave of dizziness overtakes me. "Okay, maybe I will step out." I lean down and brush a kiss over my mom's cheek. "Call me when you're done. I'll come right back."
I say goodbye to everyone else and retrace my steps through the room and out into the hall. I'm almost to the door that leads to the waiting room when I hear my name.
"Autumn, wait."
I’m still not used to hearing his voice.
I pause just outside the door and turn around. Owen stops. His eyes are soft with apology. "About the other day … I'm sorry. I really want this”—he motions between our chests— “to be less contentious. I know we didn't end well, but that was a long time ago. We're adults now. We can do better."
He's right. I hate when he’s right. It’s been a decade since the dark choice I had to make, since his unforgettable words, and it does no good for me to hold resentment in my heart.
I nod slowly. "So, you want to be … friends?" Never in a million years would I have thought I'd ever be friends with Owen Miller. Not after what happened between us.
Relief tumbles over his features. "Friends. Friends would be great."
I simply nod and turn back around, opening the door and stepping through. I'm three feet away when I realize I didn't hear the door close behind me.
As I look over my shoulder, I find Owen standing there with his hand propped against the open door.
"What?" I ask, stopping. He has an amused look on his face.
"Are we the kind of friends who get coffee together?" His eyebrows raise hopefully. "I have some things I'd like to say."
Am I ready to go there yet with Owen? Maybe after a stiff drink, but not coffee. Not today.
“Maybe another time.” I give him a sheepish smile and he frowns slightly, nodding.
I turn around and keep going until I get to my mom's car. As I slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath, the tension melts into a puddle at my feet.
He'd watched me until I walked out of the treatment facility and turned the corner. I didn't have to look back at him to know it. I felt his gaze on me, felt the apology I'm certain lives somewhere inside him. Do I have an apology inside of me for him as well? All those times he called after and I never answered. The deleted emails, returned letters. Changing my number, my dorm room and just about anything so that he could never contact me again…
Maybe.
Just maybe I owe him an apology too.
From the look of it, he's been waiting a long time to ask me for coffee and tell me he's sorry about what he said the last time we saw each other.
He can wait a little longer.
Chapter 6
Autumn
I'mglad I let everyone convince me to leave the hospital during the treatment. I needed the sun and fresh air and general lack of needles and blood. Each time I've been around Owen it feels like I'm gasping for oxygen, and that makes me nervous. I was prepared mentally for the anger I felt around him, but not the other stuff…
The car window is rolled down; the air rushing through pushes my hair around my face. I don't have a hair-tie, so I wind it into a loose knot and tuck it into the back of my t-shirt. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm heading for Main Street. I make a right turn onto the lengthy thoroughfare and my vision explodes with tourists. They wear hats and visors, loose t-shirts and shorts. Some wear fanny packs. I used to think fanny packs were the epitome of nerdy, but now that I'm older I see the utility in them. Although, I'm not sure if appreciating their function would ever convince me to wear one.
The shops on either side of the street are hard to see because of the sheer volume of people walking around. I pause at a red light, watching pedestrians cross over to the other side of the street. A sullen-looking teenager slouches behind older people I assume are his parents, staring down at the phone he holds inches from his face.
