"Well, yes," she says haltingly. "But things have changed, Owen…"
I trace her jaw with the tip of one finger and her eyelashes flutter closed. Palming her cheek, she leans into my touch. "Autumn, I love you too much to make you stay on just my account."
I don't give her a chance to answer. My lips fall down onto hers, consuming her mouth. She tastes like wine and sweet Autumn, the girl who wrecked my world when I was eighteen. The woman who might very well wreck my world once more.
When I pull back to look at her, I can see the confusion in her eyes. She wants that job, but she wants me too. She’s lost, and scared, and her mother is dying. This is the last thing she wants to think about. I can see it in the way her gaze goes half lidded and a sly smirk creeps across her face.
She tugs at my pants. "Let's finish what we started that night at your dad's."
And just like that she’s replaced any deep conversation we would have about this with sex. Sex is our distraction from the inevitable sorrow laying in the next room and the pain it causes both of us to watch her die.
Autumn crashes her mouth on mine and I go with it. As much as Faith is on borrowed time, Autumn and I could be as well. I don’t know how long this bliss will last. If I had it my way: forever. But with New York, and Autumn’s fondness for running across the country when shit gets hard, I can’t say with one-hundred-percent certainty that she’ll stay.
I lift her in the air and turn, placing her back down on the counter. Our sweeping tongues momentarily wipe away our woes. Our kisses become frantic and needy.
I rip myself away from Autumn, stepping back, and she hops down, leading the way out of the kitchen. Instead of walking to her bedroom like I expect her to, she slips out the back door. I follow her, confused, to the shadows on the side of the house. Then her earlier comment about finishing what we started at my dad’s dawns on me.
My lips press against her neck as I yank down her shorts. She hitches one leg onto my hip, and in one smooth, fluid motion I'm inside her. She swallows her strangled moan, clenching tightly around me as I wrap one arm around her back and cup the back of her head with my other hand, protecting her from the wall.
"I love you, Owen," she whispers.
It's so dark I can't see her features clearly, but I hear the tremble in her words.
I press my lips to hers, an attempt to steal her sorrow and worry.
Can she feel my love? Can she feel how devoted I am, how I'm willing to make us work, no matter where we live? We aren't teenagers anymore. Physical distance doesn't have to mean the end for us.
"I love you, Autumn. I love you so fucking much."
After that, there are no more words. There are only two people hiding in the shadows, hearts broken and grasping for a respite from the pain.
When Autumn's thigh muscles clench, I kiss her deeply. She comes hard, soaring, her release as physical as it is emotional. The feel of her, the sound of her, is more than I can take. My body jerks, and I press my lips together to keep from crying out.
We stay that way for a minute, our heart rates slowing. Before I pull away, I kiss her lightly.
On her lips, there is the salty taste of tears.
* * *
"Son? You there?"
My dad's voice creeps through the thick fog in my sleepy brain as I hold the phone to my ear. I crack an eye open and lift my head from the pillow. Beside me, Autumn sleeps soundly, her mouth parted slightly. Deep, even breaths escape her. After the emergency room visit and what happened on the side of the house, we are both exhausted.
"What's wrong?" I whisper into the receiver, rolling over and trying like hell to get up without disturbing Autumn. How many nights has my dad called me, drunk and needing help? Too many to count. The thought irritates me. Before he can answer, I add on to my question.
"Dad, you're going to have to figure your own way out of whatever it is you've landed yourself in this time."
"Uh…" Dad pauses, and then coughs. "Going to be a little difficult to get myself out of this one, son. I'm in jail."
I pinch the bridge of my nose and stifle a sigh. "What happened?"
Behind me I hear the rustle of sheets, then feel the touch of two warm hands, followed by a set of even warmer lips on the center of my back.
I turn my head to the side, and there is just enough moonlight coming in through her window to see Autumn's features. I love her bedhead. I want to wake up next to it forever.
Not if she takes that promotion you told her to take, fuckface.
Driving the thought from my mind, I force myself to focus on the most pressing problem at this current moment. As if there aren't enough of them.
