Page 61 of Autumn on My Mind

My heart thuds, thuds and stirs and swells in ways I don’t understand, and I swallow, my question suddenly gone. It’s vanished off my tongue and from my mind, just like every other thought I’ve ever had.

You have a little crush, I tell myself. That’s all. A baby crush that will go away.

“I—” I begin, but I still can’t find anything.

Autumn Ridge! That’s where I was going with this. Good. Yes.

“Do you want to come back to Autumn Ridge with me this weekend?” I blurt the words out, louder than necessary, and as soon as I’ve released them I wish I could take them back. But that’s not an option, so I make myself go on. “I love Autumn Ridge in the fall,” I explain. “And”—my voice turns sheepish now—“I don’t want to make the drive by myself.” I clear my throat. “Traveling together wouldn’t be weird, would it?”

I’m not sure if Dominic will love this idea or hate it or think it’s stupid, so I watch him carefully, hunting for any sign of his true thoughts, because all I see right now is surprise.

And he doesn’t move; if anything, his body stills. But the warmth fades from his eyes until it’s replaced by something more difficult to decipher. An inscrutable expression that tells me nothing at all, eyes guarded as he considers me.

I can see a myriad of thoughts running through his head. I just can’t tell what any of them are.

His throat bobs as his hesitant gaze continues to dart over my face, and for one brief moment, his eyes drop to my lips. His shoulders shudder with an unsteady breath, until the room feels too warm and I can’t bear his scrutiny any longer.

“Forget it,” I say, forcing a laugh. “It was dumb. I don’t really need⁠—”

“Weekend after next,” he cuts me off softly. He inhales again and then exhales roughly, still searching my expression, and the tension drains from his body as he nods again. “We can go then.”

I blink, hardly daring to believe him, but a slow smile spreads over my face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, and then he holds up one finger. “If.”

My smile freezes on my face and then falls right off, shattering on the table between us. “If?”

“If,” he repeats, his eyes gleaming with unmistakable challenge. It’s not an expression I’ve seen before. “If you get an A on your engineering midterm.”

My jaw drops, and he rolls his shoulders into a shrug.

“Get an A on your midterm, and I’ll take you to Autumn Ridge.” His eyes meet mine, and when he speaks again, his voice is low, the words deliberate and slow. “In fact…” He squares his shoulders like he’s steeling himself, then another deep breath, one that pulls all the oxygen from the room until I can barely breathe. “Get an A, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Reese.”

My mind flits to a dangerous place—an image of Dom and I watching a beautiful sunset at Make-Out Ridge, stealing kisses we’re not supposed to steal.

“Anywhere?” I say.

He gives me a slow nod. “Anywhere at all.”

Sunday is blissfully low-key. Berk’s is closed on Sundays, as is the pumpkin farm, so I sleep in until ten with no interruptions. I talk to Juliet Monroe about the Fall Festival this week, because she and Rosie are the ones running the whole shebang. Wednesday is Pumpkin Day—thus why Juliet picked up so many of them on Bugelbach’s opening day—and along with my regular pumpkin patch work, I’m going to be on duty at the festival too.

My pumpkin-handling gloves are ready to go. My pumpkin-orange sweater is hanging from the corner of one of the metal shelving units by my sleeping bag. Wednesday will find me in fine form.

It has occurred to me, however, that I need to make a few adjustments to my housing arrangements before that.

Namely that I have no food and no means of preparation.

As much as I would love to eat every meal at Keller’s Bakehouse, I know this to be both unhealthy and unrealistic, so it is with empty-bellied alacrity that I return to my childhood home on Sunday. I time my visit to coincide with Alvina’s presumed return from church, which she’s probably attended with Daryl; maybe I can get a hint of how things are going today.

My food prep comes first, though, so when I emerge into the kitchen, I get to work. I’ll buy some groceries tomorrow, but for now I make a few PB&Js to last me a couple meals as well as grabbing some granola bars, some Pop-Tarts, and the newly purchased bunch of bananas Nathan has on the kitchen counter.

Sorry, Nate. Have to get that produce in.

I stuff my food into a plastic grocery bag, and I’m about to head out when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I can tell it’s Alvina, based on the lack of unnecessary thudding and thumping Nathan does. She rounds the corner into the living room a second later, and because she doesn’t look around, she doesn’t see me.

Based on how she’s dressed—heels, fitted pants, and a soft-looking sweater with jewelry shining at her ears and wrists—she’s changed out of her church clothing. But the expression on her face is one I haven’t seen before, or at least not in a long time; it’s sad, contemplative, and not entirely present.

Her footsteps are slow as she drifts not to the couch or the TV but to the wall where a smattering of pictures hang. She seems to know exactly what she’s doing, because there’s no hesitation in her movements when she reaches for one of the photos and lifts it gently off the wall.