Page 33 of Autumn on My Mind

“This is me,” I say, pointing, but he keeps moving.

“You probably shouldn’t drive right now.”

My shuffling steps come to a halt, and I sigh. “What are you doing?” I say as a wave of tiredness hits me. I twist around to look at Dominic, whose hand falls back to his side.

“What do you mean?” he says, but his eyes dart away from mine. In the light of the street lamp I can see how green they are; I can see the frayed edge of his backward hat and the waffle knit of his shirt.

“Did you read the letter?” I say instead of answering him.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Now’s not the time⁠—”

“Did you read it or not?” I insist.

And his whole frame sags. He runs one hand down his face, but he still won’t look at me. “Yeah,” he finally says. “I read it.”

That crumbled, exhausted creature in my chest jumps. “And?”

“And what?” He pauses for a second and then goes on, “What do you want me to say? What do you want to hear?”

He’s not defensive or even angry—just tired. Like maybe he needs closure so he can move on, too.

“I want us to forgive each other and move on,” I say in my best firm voice. It’s not great, because of the vomiting thing. “I want us to forgive each other and go about our lives.”

But Dominic shakes his head, looking even wearier than before, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible.

“You were never the one I couldn’t forgive, Reese.”

Dominic drives me home in total silence. I don’t ask any more questions, and he doesn’t offer any explanations. Once he drops me back at Nathan’s house, he takes my keys and returns with my car a few minutes later before walking down the sidewalk and disappearing into the night.

I throw up two more times and fall asleep on the floor of the bathroom, my cheek pressed to the cool tile. I’m woken at five the next morning when Alvina steps on me, shrieks, and flips the light on.

“Reese?” she says.

“Hnnnggg,” I say.

“You look terrible, sweetheart. Are you ill?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Take a shower.”

She leaves me to get on with it, so I wiggle-slither over the edge of the tub and then flop to the floor of the shower. I lie there for a second and hope I don’t drown.

I do have to admit, however, that I feel much better once I’m clean, minus the throbbing arm Alvina stepped on. I have no appetite to speak of, but I’m not nauseated any longer—just tired. If today weren’t the grand opening of the pumpkin patch, maybe I’d stay home, but since it is…

“All right,” I say, looking at myself in the mirror. My orange sweater makes me look like either a pumpkin or a carrot, perfect for the occasion, and my jeans and sturdy boots are comfortable enough to be moving around in all day. I pull my hair into a quick braid over my shoulder and call it good.

You know what was not good?

Last night.

I shake my head to ward off the memories, because I don’t have time to wallow, as tempting as it sounds.

I keep seeing, in slow motion, a vision of myself hurtling toward the storm drain to vomit while Dominic looks on. There was splattering and hacking and gasping.

There were fur boots.

With a shudder, I smooth my hand down my sweater and then head for the door.

The opening day at Bugelbach’s is everything Joe and I hoped it would be. He asks how I got the scratch on my cheek; I change the subject. Juliet Monroe comes to claim all of the billion pumpkins she’s going to need for the Fall Festival—they’ll look amazing—and Archer Kade comes by too, asking about deliveries for the Sleepy Holler event he puts on at Horseshoe Holler.

I try not to be obvious about it, but I do notice some sparks between them, if I were the kind of person to notice those things. They’d be a gorgeous couple; Archer has an easy cowboy confidence, and Juliet has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They only speak a bit, but she blushes when she sees him, and his eyes linger on her when she’s not looking.