"Maybe good?" I ask, my eyebrows raised. Maybe it's not about Autumn after all. I can't imagine there's anything Faith would know about Autumn that would make me feelmaybe good. "I suppose those are pretty decent odds. I'd want to know. Hypothetically speaking, of course." I wink at Faith, the vise-like grip on my stomach loosening.
"Autumn's home."
No tightening in my core now. Just a feeling like my bones have turned to jelly and they're undulating inside me like ribbons in the wind. Those two words send me over the edge.
"Owen?" Faith's forehead leans closer, urging me to speak.
My throat is dry but I find words. "For how long?"
Faith looks away. She shrugs. "I don't know. She's moved back for now. Someone took over her lease on her apartment in the city. I suppose it depends on how all this"—she gestures to the room around us—"goes."
Holy fucking shit. Autumn Cummings was back home. And not like in the past when she came back just for a weekend, in which case I could hole up inside to make sure I didn’t run into her. She wasback. I realize that she’s come back to care for her mother, which means Faith must be thinking this is her last fight.
"It's going to work, Faith," I assure her, remembering that I’m the doctor here and need to comfort my patient. I don't know that, of course. I don't have a crystal ball, or a magic wand. All I have is an ardent desire for a favorable outcome.
Faith extends a hand between us, and I catch it.
"Of course it will," she says, squeezing my hand gently before she lets me go.
The curiosity is killing me. I have to ask. "How is she?"
I regret it the second I say it. I shouldn’t show interest, it will only encourage Faith. We made a pact ten years ago: we don’t talk about Autumn. Now that pact is broken and I want to know everything.
"She flew in on a redeye early this morning. So, right now she's tired. But I bet she'd be up for a visitor later this afternoon." Faith’s face looks hopeful.
Is this woman trying to kill me? I can’t see Autumn. No way. She should know better than to encourage us to get together … but of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t know the hell I walked through with her daughter. Neither of us made it out of that fully alive.
My head shakes back and forth. An automatic response. "She doesn't want to see me, Faith."
I don’t want to see her either, but because Faith doesn’t know why we broke up, only that it was ugly, so I am trying to play it cool.
Faith lowers herself from the exam table and reaches for her purse, winding it over her shoulder. "Perhaps before I die one of you will finally tell me what happened between you two." There's an undercurrent of irritation in her tone.
My only response is a nervous chuckle. If Autumn hasn't told her mother yet, it means she doesn't want her to know. And after everything that happened, I can at least respect that.
"That's what I figured you'd do," Faith says tartly, and the laugh dies in my throat.
Through my lab coat I feel the warmth of her palm, and I turn toward it. Since I was fifteen Faith has been like a mother to me. My own mom left me and my dad when I was five, and when Autumn and I became friends, Faith welcomed me into her home. Soon I became Autumn's boyfriend. Faith treated me like a member of the family. We had family meals together, she listened to me gripe about the guys on the soccer team, and I knew I could go to her with anything. I don't know what would've happened to me without Faith's love and guidance. I was a flailing teenager, a good kid at my core, but my heart had been broken by the rejection of my own mother. Faith's presence and inherent mothering filled in the cracks in my heart.
Autumn may be in pain, knowing this is her mother's third dance with the devil that is cancer, but she doesn't have the market cornered. I'm hurting too.
Faith looks at me, hope plain on her face. "So, will you come by for dinner?"
Fuck no. Willingly walk into the lion’s den and see the woman who owned the scars on my heart?
No way.
"Tonight?" I ask nervously. Shit, it's hard to deny this sweet woman.
She nods. Dinner on Monday has become a ritual of ours, and I don’t have anything planned tonight because I assume I will be eating at her place. It started when she beat cancer the first time. I took her out for a celebratory dinner, and while we were at the restaurant, she'd commented on how nice it was to spend time with me away from her health issues. We'd decided then that we'd make it a weekly occurrence, and aside from illness and the odd vacation, we haven't missed a Monday. Last month I started mowing her lawns on Sunday. It was safe to say that if Autumn was living at her mom’s, I wouldn’t be able to avoid her without being rude to Faith, and that I would never do.
I sigh. "I don't know, Faith. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on."
Please, God, let me stay away. Let me resist the hold that Autumn has over my life.
A disappointed look creeps into her eyes, but she's quick to tuck it back.
Her upset makes me feel the need to amend my statement. "For now, at least. Give me a few days to catch up on work and I’ll see if I can stop by."
