is a creep?"
"No, he's not," I say adamantly. "He's not."
"So what's the problem?"
"I hooked up with a guy -- on my kitchen floor," I hiss, keeping my voice low, out of earshot of the kids. "I'm a terrible parent."
"She was asleep," June says, waving her hand dismissively. "You think Cade and I haven't gotten it on in the kitchen when the kids are asleep?"
"It's different," I say. "You're..."
"Please don't say married," she says. "You've not been on a single date since you've moved here. That's two years, Autumn. I think that's a long enough mourning period."
"I'm not in mourning!"
"Well, then stop acting like you are," she says. "You're not a nun. You didn't take a vow of celibacy just because you became a mom."
"You think it's totally fine?"
"I think you're doing a great job making it not fine," she says, sipping a glass of water.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It was good, right?"
I exhale heavily, heat rising to my face at the thought of it. It was more than good. It was...mind-blowing. Fantastic. The best sex I've ever had.
"Yeah," she says, laughing. "Exactly. It's written all over your face."
"I don't know him, June."
She looks at me for a long time. "How long were you married to Edward?" she asks, not waiting for an answer. "Seems to me like you didn't really know him either."
We sit in silence, listening to the kids playing, until I finally speak. “Damn it, June,” I say. “Why do you have to be so…reasonable?”
The sound of male laughter interrupts us, and I turn to see June's husband Cade standing behind us, holding Callie. “Reasonable?” he asks, grinning. “Really?”
“You shut your mouth, Cade,” she says, reaching for the baby. “I’m totally reasonable.”
“I’d be afraid of whatever advice you’re getting from June here.”
“How long have you been eavesdropping?” I ask.
Cade puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Not even a little bit,” he says. “Whatever you two had to talk about that was so important this morning is not at all my business.”
“That’s a smart man,” June says, smiling. “I’ve trained him well.”
Cade kisses the top of her head. “I have to go in to the shop for a little while,” he says. “Can you handle the two heathen children?”
“I think I’ll manage,” June says.
I wait until Cade leaves to speak. “You and Cade are good parents,” I say.
“Yeah, we are,” she says, leaning forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But we’re not saints, Autumn. You have no idea how far from saints we are.”
I can’t help but laugh. Yeah, right. Because June, the sweet little bed and breakfast owner, is totally a badass.
“Seriously, Autumn,” she says. “Go have a wild one-night-stand -- or a few nights. Or make him your boyfriend if you want. And if you need Cade and I to babysit Olivia so you can have an actual, real-life date, we will.”
My eyes go wide. “I’m not making him my boyfriend,” I say. “He’s just…a fling. At most. Maybe not even that.”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “If he’s just a fling, then why do you care what happened this morning?”
Damn it. I swallow hard. June is right.
“Exactly,” she says, as if she can read my mind. “You know I’m correct. And don’t eff it all up just because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I protest, automatically, obviously lying.
“Of course you are. You like him.”
“I can’t like him,” I say. “I don’t know him.”
“Well, you can remedy that part of things, now can’t you?” she says. “Getting to know someone is easy enough.”
“Easy for you to say.” I cross my arms over my chest and give June a sullen glare, aware I’m being ridiculous, but she just laughs.
“I’m quite sure you’ll manage just fine,” she says.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Luke
“Where the fuck have you been?” Elias’ voice greets me even before I get out of the truck. I don’t answer, don’t look at any of them standing there in my damn driveway, because I don't want to deal with them right now. Lucy starts to run excitedly toward my brothers, before getting distracted by a squirrel and running off in the opposite direction.
“I don’t need shit from you, Elias, so lay the hell off.” I’m on edge from this morning, practically crawling out of my skin on the drive home from Autumn’s place. What happened this morning shouldn't matter. It was a bullshit argument after a bullshit one-night-stand, and that was it. It shouldn’t get under my skin.
And it shouldn’t have me this edgy now, twenty minutes later. I tell myself that she means nothing to me.
Friends, she said. I don’t have friends – not of the girl variety.
“He has his panties in a bunch over some chick he’s banging,” Silas says, supposedly talking to his twin, but says it loudly, so I can hear.
All I hear is the part about banging some chick. I walk straight toward Silas, and shove him backward. “I said, fuck off.”
“What the hell, Luke?” Silas lunges for me, and then Killian and Elias are between us.
“Both of you,” Killian says. “Shut the hell up. Now.”
“Then tell him to stop being such a fucking asshat,” Silas yells.
“Oh yeah, I’m totally the ass –“
Killian smacks me hard in the chest. “Shut up before I knock both of you idiots out,” he says. “Our mother kept a diary.”
My blood is pumping so loudly in my ears that it takes a second to register. “A diary,” I say.
“We found it,” Elias says. “River and I did. Everything is in there.”
Everything’s in there.
“What?” I ask. “Show me.”
I’m struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of guilt. I’d stuck around in West Bend after my mother’s suicide, because I’d thought something was off about it. I’d even gone and poked around the old house, at least until I couldn’t stand being there anymore -- until the darkness of the place threatened to envelop me, even in the middle of the daytime. It reeked of memories of the past, shit I didn’t want to think about anymore.
Since then, I’ve been distracted by Autumn…
Killian claps me hard on the back, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Elias has the diary.”
Family, I remind myself. That’s why I’m here. I'm not here to be distracted by a woman.
“You were right,” Elias says, handing me the notebook. “It wasn’t a suicide. Jed killed her.”
“We assume Jed killed her,” Silas says. “The journal implies it.”
“Whatever,” Killian says. “We know it was Jed. We could easily take care of it.”
“Yeah, man,” Elias says. “That’d be real fucking smart, seeing as he’s the sheriff and all. Why don’t you go take his ass out right in front of the mayor’s office, while you're at it? I’m sure that’ll work out well.”
“Shit, start seeing a movie star and all of a sudden you’re all ‘think logically’ and ‘don’t commit murder, Killian’,” he says.
“Shut up for a damn second," I say, opening the journal. “I can’t even hear myself think.”
“You think?” Silas asks. “I wasn’t even sure you could read.”
I glare at him. “I’m going to kick your fucking ass in two seconds if you don’t shut your mouth.”
Silas hoots. “I'd love to see you try, big brother.”
“Cut it out, both of you,” Killian says. “You guys are giving me a headache. Why are we standing outside anyway? You got beer in the fridge?”
“Dude, it’s like nine in the morning,” Elias says.
Killian raises his eyebrows. “Do you have a fucking point?” he asks. “Beer? Fridge?”
I toss the keys at Killian. "The fridge is full of beer,” I say. “Wai
t, I thought you were going back to the rig.”
“I have to,” he says. “Leave tomorrow.”
“You’re going to really leave right in the middle of this shit?”
Killian shrugs, the way he does. Things just roll off his back; that's the way Killian has always been, mellow like that. But it pisses me off that he can just leave, walk away like none of this matters to him. It should matter to him. He points at Elias and Silas. "You two idiots, leave Luke alone to read through the journal while I get us some beers. I'm not doing jack shit out here until I get a cold one."
"It's all near the end in the journal," Elias starts.
"Leave him be, Elias," he says, disappearing into the house.
Elias glares at him. "I folded down the page," he says.
I pull up a lawn chair and open the journal to the page, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Fuck this day. It was already a shitty day to begin with and now this.
I lose myself in the pages, squinting at the pieces of handwriting that are hard to decipher, words here and there that I can't quite make out. It's definitely hers, though – it's like hearing my mother's voice from beyond the grave. At one point, I look up from it and catch Silas' eye.
"It's weird reading that shit, isn't it?" he asks.
"Spooky," I say. It's like stepping into her head, and that's not a place I've ever wanted to be. I've always thought of her as weak, too afraid to leave my asshole stepfather. He'd beaten her down so many times that she was too helpless to get out. Except, that's not what I see in the journal. Her voice changes over the course of it. And then I get to the thing that hits me like a blow to the guy, that makes the world tilt on its fucking axis.
I look up at Elias. "Are you kidding me?" I ask.
"Keep reading," he says. "It gets worse."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Autumn
Olivia points at the freezer, and then at her mouth, before letting out a loud scream.
"Ice cream?" I ask. I'm about to say no, when Connie – Connie C. to differentiate her from Connie S. over at the salon -- bustles past me, wiping her hands on her gingham apron.
"Oh, give that baby some ice cream," she says, slipping behind the ice cream freezer and reaching into one of the containers to scoop out a bit into a cup. "It won't hurt her any."
"Says the woman who doesn't have to deal with a kid who doesn't want to nap after she gets all hopped up on sugar." I protest, but half-heartedly. This is part of our regular routine here.
Connie C. laughs. "You sound like my daughter when I get around the grandkids," she says. "Here you go, little Olivia."
"I swear, I think she's associated you with ice cream, Connie," I say, holding the cup while Olivia tries to spoon some into her mouth, the liquid dripping down her chin.
"There are worse things to be associated with," she says. "How's business, Autumn? That fire up there didn't hurt your harvest now, did it?"
"Not terribly," I tell her. "We caught it in time. We're actually almost finished harvesting."
"Luke Saint has been helping you out, I hear." She slips behind the counter and begins placing my groceries in the paper bags, but I know she's really sussing me out for juicy gossip. I force my expression blank. Connie is one of the worst gossips in town – her general store and the local hair salon are the two main sources of information in West Bend, and everyone knows it. And the last thing I need is for her to get the idea that there's anything other than a business relationship going on between Luke and I.
I haven't talked to Luke since we hooked up. No phone call, no text, no Luke knocking on my front door with groceries in his hands and that crooked grin on his face.
Nothing.
"Yep," I say. No elaboration. "Do you have any of that French bread you had before?"
"Oh, it's in the back, sweetie," she says, putting a head of broccoli in a bag. "Hang on, I'll grab you a loaf."
I exhale, relieved at the brief reprieve from Connie's questions. And from thinking about Luke.
At least, that's the case until he walks in the door.
Luke is wearing jeans and a t-shirt that looks like it was dyed to match the color of his eyes, a cornflower blue hue that's warm and icy at the same time. When Olivia sees him, she holds up her spoon and grunts, waving it in the air excitedly and sending droplets of ice cream all over the floor. He looks at me for a good long moment, then down at Olivia. "Hey there, Olivia," he says. "That looks like some delicious ice cream."
When he looks up at me, his eyes look tired, dark circles underneath, and his face is wan. "Hey, Red."
"Grocery shopping?" I ask brightly. Too brightly, I think, clearing my throat. Be casual, I tell myself. Be cool. Like I do this all the time, hook up with someone and then, you know, act like a big asshole.
"Just popped in for a couple of things," he says, glancing behind me. He looks uncomfortable.
"I -- uh, wanted to say something, Luke," I start. My heart thumps loudly in my throat, so loudly I swear he has to be able to hear it in the room. I wipe my palms on my jeans. Why are my damn palms so sweaty?
Just apologize to him, Autumn, I tell myself.
"Oh yeah," he says, distracted. "Don't worry about it, you know? I haven't given it a second thought."
Oh. Not a second thought. I feel like someone punched me in the gut.
"Here you go, dear," Connie says. "Luke Saint. Well, there, speak of the devil. Did you feel your ears burning? We were just talking about you no more than thirty seconds ago, now weren't we, Autumn?"
If my face could flush any darker, I'd be the color of an eggplant. I look out of the corner of my eye at Luke, but the expression on his face is unreadable. This is the kind of thing he'd usually be prepared for with a quip, some kind of wisecrack to embarrass me even more.
Oh God. He must hate me that much, that he doesn't even care to be a smartass about it. I have thoroughly fucked things up.
"No, uh--" I stammer. "We weren't talking about you, I don't think..."
"I was just asking about how you were helping her out at the orchard," Connie says.
"And I was just telling her that I was grateful for your help," I say, my voice curt.
Luke nods, his expression drawn. "Yes," he says, looking at his watch. "I'll, see you at the orchard on Monday, then."
I swallow hard, watching Luke's back as he walks about the door, trying to stifle the uneasy feeling I get in my stomach as he leaves. It's just a casual fling, I tell myself.
"Well, now," Connie says, eyeing me as she slides the loaf of bread into my shopping bag, "he turned around and left without even getting what he came in here for."
"Yes," I say, my head swimming. He obviously didn’t like what he saw in the store.
"He's a good-looking one, that Luke Saint is," she says, clucking. "All of the brothers are. Damn shame about that family, though."