#1.5 Finding Autumn Read online

  So what if he’d been a decent father figure to me? My mother didn’t understand that his one act of evil overshadowed all the good he had ever done. He tried to rape one of his students. He had violated her in every conceivable way, short of that. I didn’t believe there was redemption from that.

  A few minutes passed before Darien started knocking on my bedroom door. I shoved my earbuds in and cranked up my iPod to block out the sound. He was always trying to fix me. He was like Autumn in so many ways. As much as I tried to push them both away, they never gave up on me. With my defective family, it was hard not to think of them as better off without me in their lives.

  I drank for hours until exhaustion kicked in and I drifted off. I was disoriented when I opened my eyes and startled when my bed shook. The lighting was dim, but I recognized Autumn immediately lying on the bed next to me. She had a beautiful smile on her full lips, and it made me forget my bad mood. Waking up next to Autumn was nothing I’d ever complain about.

  I turned on my lamp and allowed myself a moment to take her in fully. She was naturally beautiful, and I could stare at her all day and not grow bored. She had a light about her; and although she’d been through the worst life could offer up, it hadn’t diminished that light. She snagged one of my earbuds and frowned in my direction.

  “Drinking in the dark while listening to Radiohead? How very self-indulgent of you.”

  “I like how you’re never afraid to call me on my bullshit.” It was one of hundreds of qualities I admired in her. I had fought the physical attraction from early on, but as we got closer, I saw how smart and honest she was. I felt at times as if I was surrounded by frauds—myself included in that distinction—and it was refreshing to be around a girl who spoke her mind.

  She moved closer until every soft curve was pressed against me. She ran her finger across my chest, and I felt myself getting turned on by her nearness and her touch. I wanted her so much, and it was all I could think about when she was next to me. I could picture her big brown eyes full of need as I rocked into her deep—making sure she came before I finished. The thought of even being inside her had me rock hard.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

  No, I wasn’t okay, but I couldn’t put my problems on her. Was it insane for me to imagine the day I could be completely honest with her? The reality was the day I opened up to her and revealed my true self would probably be the last day I’d ever see her again.

  “Just having a bad day. It’s better now that you’re here.”

  “I think it’s more than that. You can tell me the truth.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I was fine as long as she didn’t leave me. Maybe I was a selfish prick, but I wasn’t ready to let her go.

  “Fine, if you won’t tell me, let’s play a game instead.”

  Her suggestion eased my tension. She was letting me pretend for a little bit longer, and I would seize the opportunity as if my life depended on it. I could already feel the crushing loneliness looming on the horizon. “What kind of game?”

  “It’s called two truths and a lie.” I couldn’t hide my restlessness over her suggestion. I had built up a tower of lies, and sometimes it felt like she was only a hairbreadth’s away from making them all tumble down. She frowned at my reaction and pushed my shoulder playfully. “Come on. I’ll even go first.”

  “Okay. How do you play?”

  “I’m going to tell you three things. Two of them are true and one of them is a lie. You have to figure out which one is the lie.”

  The game sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. It was making me feel all sorts of immoral, and I didn’t want to drown in my guilt. It would be better to change the subject—tell her how incredibly sexy I found her.

  “Can’t we play another kind of game?”

  Her pouty lips parted, and I liked how I affected her. But she had a stubborn streak, and I could see her fight off the same desires I was feeling. I tried to gauge her reasons behind the game. Was she trying to get to know me? Or was there more of her she wanted to share with me? I almost didn’t want her to open herself up any more. It didn’t seem fair.

  “No,” she said firmly, and I could see her rack her brain over the things to tell me. “I’ve suffered from panic attacks for the past couple of years and need to take medicine sometimes to control it. I had an incurable crush on you since we met and I tried to fight it because I thought you were completely wrong for me.” She started to breathe harder. “And I’m not a virgin.”

  Forgive Thomas for hurting this beautiful girl? Never.

  She gave me so much of herself each day. I imagined the confession weighing on her, and I wished she understood how little it mattered. I could see the fear in her big brown eyes, and I was shocked to realize she thought I’d be turned off by the revelation. My heart squeezed inside of my chest to think of her worrying I’d not want her because of it.

  Was the fact she was a virgin a surprise? Of course it was. She had a boyfriend for a couple of years in high school and, as much as it felt like a gut punch to think about it, I assumed they slept together. But like most everything I thought I knew about Autumn Dorey—I was mistaken.

  Before I could answer, she placed her fingers over my lips. “You don’t have to say your answer out loud. I just… wanted to put it out there.”

  I kissed her fingertips before removing her hand from my mouth. “All right.”

  I had seen rumor after rumor about her posted online, and it made me wonder how she kept from getting jaded. She showed not a trace of bitterness despite the lies told about her. I despised the men and women of Newpine and what they had done to her reputation. She rose above it all, and she was a better person than I was for not seeking revenge against them.

  “Your turn,” she prompted.

  “I know.”

  I wouldn’t lie to her, not after she shared a secret she’d been guarding closely. The truth was I wanted to tell her how I felt. I was scared over how she might react, but she was worth the risk. “I hate football sometimes, like the enjoyment I once got out of playing the game has been zapped away. I’ve always put my family first, no matter what, and people have been hurt because of my blind loyalty.”

  Autumn had been hurt by how much faith I put in my family. I didn’t know if things would be different if I had accepted the truth about Thomas long before we met. I may have written him off, but up until I got to know her, there was still a small hope I was wrong about my stepfather.

  My opinion about his crime didn’t seem to matter much to my family. Delia was his daughter and their blood bond appeared unbreakable. My mother nurtured her hatred of Autumn and voiced disgust about her in the most public way possible. I wondered if I had told my mom from the beginning that I believed Thomas was guilty, whether my words would have stopped her from giving interviews to the press that slandered Autumn. My mother’s intention was to show the public she was standing by her husband and not buying into the story told by a girl my mom considered an oversexed teenage deviant.

  My feelings were all mixed up about football and my family, but I wanted Autumn to know I had clarity about one thing—the most important thing.

  “And I’m not in love with you.”

  She wasn’t expecting my admission, and I hoped the shocked look on her face reflected what she’d consider a good surprise. We’d been dating for a couple months, and it might have been too soon to confess I was in love with her. It didn’t feel soon to me since I finally started admitting it to myself a month ago after I visited her in Newpine. I hoped she might have guessed at my feelings since inside I felt like a different person. I was a man completely and hopelessly in love. She started to answer and I mimicked her move of settling a finger against her lips. “No fair. You can’t answer if I wasn’t allowed to.”

  Instead of talking, she snuck her hands under my shirt. They left a trail of heat as they traveled over my bare skin. As she pulled at my shirt, urging me to ta
ke it off, I marveled at how utterly sexy she was. It was overwhelming how much my body reacted to hers. She breathed deeply and when her chest heaved, I stared at her breasts as they strained against her tiny t-shirt. My desire grew as I felt the curve of her hips when she wiggled next to me.

  Once my shirt was off, she tenderly grazed the scar near my ribs with her fingertips. “Believe it or not, that didn’t come from football. I had a bad fall off my bike when I was twelve,” I managed to say, although my lust for her made it hard to focus.

  Autumn moved her hand lower and began to play with the top of my boxers. I become painfully hard and begged her to come to me. She straddled herself across my waist, and I loved that she didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t afraid to take control and I wanted that for her. I’d only take what she was one hundred percent willing to give.

  She kissed me hard, and I responded in turn. The kiss was hot and deep, and we couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. She had the most amazing taste, and I continued kissing her to get my fill, which would never happen—I would never get my fill of Autumn. The way she tossed off her shirt with zero hesitation told me so much about where we were as a couple and how much trust she had in us. My hands wandered over her body—her skin felt like satin against the roughness of my palms. I cupped her full breasts in my hands, and I loved watching her respond. Her face was completely open and she made small moans as I applied more pressure around her nipples.

  I figured I must still not be completely devoid of any moral sense because I did stop her as she went to take off her bra. We had been a couple for months, but our physical relationship hadn’t progressed. Although I had specific reasons for not rushing things, there was something to say for taking things slow. Every kiss and touch mattered, and I no longer felt like I needed to race to get to the main event.

  Autumn shared none of my uncertainty, and I held my breath as she removed her bra. Her arms rested at her sides, and I felt like she was giving me a gift of being able to look at her freely. Her breasts were perfect—ample with dark nipples that tightened to delicious buds as I stared at them. Under all the oversized shirts, she had been hiding a centerfold’s body.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said quietly. “I could spend hours looking at you and still wonder if I’m dreaming. It doesn’t seem possible that this is real and you’re here with me in bed.”

  “I’m real and I’m yours,” she whispered while resting her soft palm against my cheek.

  Her words made me feel like the happiest man alive. I wanted her to be mine and never to belong to anyone else. I wanted to chase away every bad memory with her, and for her, and when she ever thought about being touched, it would be my touch that came to mind. Not his—never his.

  She arched her back—fully accepting my touch. I couldn’t wait to drive her body wild. I’d been told I was good in bed—a useful trait derived from my need to please others. I didn’t take what I wanted and leave my partner unsatisfied. I gave until they were imploring me to finish with them. However, whatever small pleasure I got from making my past flings come, I guessed would pale in comparison to watching Autumn climax.

  Running my tongue over the soft skin of her breasts made my cock jump in my pants. She made small mewling sounds as I kissed and licked the sensitive skin around her nipples. When she shut her eyes and ran her tongue across her lips, I realized she was lost to sensation.

  The way she tasted had me wanting to love every inch of her bare skin. Although I could spend hours paying rapt attention to her breasts, I dipped my head lower to move closer to the button on her jeans. I kept kissing her, but I settled my hand between her legs. I began to massage her through the fabric, getting into a rhythm when I found the spot that made her gasp.

  I wanted her so badly I couldn’t see straight. I rested my hands on the button of my pants—a strong temptation surfacing to remove them and finish what we started. My erection was pressing against my zipper, and I knew I’d last all of thirty seconds once I was inside her.

  I wanted to be her first and only lover. The fact she was a virgin hadn’t extinguished my desire for her—not hardly. I liked the idea of being the only man she decided to take that step with. I wanted to own her body—to make her see how good sex could be.

  I wanted most of all to be with her and have no regrets. But I understood, later, the guilt would gut me. Sleeping with her under false pretenses would be unforgivable.

  She reached to undo my pants, and I stopped her. Actually, I couldn’t believe I had in it me, but my brain won the battle against my body. “Not yet,” I said. “I think I’ll need a dozen ice cold showers, but I want to do this right with you. And I think that means not rushing into this.”

  “And that’s okay with you? Waiting?”

  The uncertainty in her voice reassured me I made the right decision. I understood her hesitation, and why it was so important that she be the one to initiate things. It was a bit of a role reversal for me, but for her it wasn’t a challenge.

  “Yes,” I answered quickly. “Although I want nothing more than to take you right now, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right, and I would feel like an ass if I pushed you too hard.”

  “But I think I’m ready….”

  “You sound unsure, and I’m fine with that. Because when we do have sex, I want you to have zero regrets.”

  The heat was still there, and I had to figure out a way to cool us both down. I tried to think of the least sexy things in the universe. Math, I thought. Math problems probably wouldn’t bring about the desire to strip down and have sex. As I ran equations through my head to say down boy to my erection, it made me consider a theory we had gone over last year in my mathematical concepts class.

  “Do you know I have a favorite math theory?” I asked her. She got comfortable in my arms and I held her close—never wanting her to slip away.

  “No,” she responded with a small laugh. “But I think it’s adorable that a big, strong, alpha football player has a favorite math theory.”

  “It’s called unsolvability. It means there are math problems that don’t abide by a set of rules, you can’t verify if they’re true or not based on a math theory. They defy logic and can’t be solved in the usual way.” I spoke in a reverent tone—trying to relay my sincerity. I didn’t show this side of myself to anyone and it mattered to me that she knew the real me. “And it reminds me of us. On the outside, it seems like things can’t work. There are too many variables trying to keep us apart. But, despite it all, we’re together and being with you is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

  “You’re the best thing to happen to me, too.” She kissed my shoulder, and I drew her words into my very soul. “But what variables? What’s trying to keep us apart?”

  “Things from before that I can’t tell you. I should tell you, but I don’t want it to ruin everything. Because it feels like what we have is fragile and the more you get to know about me, the more likely it will all shatter,” I whispered against her skin.

  “I can accept you as you are right now,” she said firmly, and the certainty in her tone pained me. “No more questions until you’re ready to give me the answers. But I do want them from you one day. Because I’m not afraid to know you, and I can take it. I’m patient, and I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

  Likely, Autumn would one day look back and regret suggesting I was allowed to be a liar for longer. I was getting her to lower her shields; and, in a way, it felt cruel to convince her to do it for my sake. The shields were the only things protecting her from the pain that could slice to the quick.

  I was a selfish and weak man who didn’t want to give up the only true love I’d ever felt. I loved her as she was and wouldn’t change a thing about her. Yet, I was a fool to believe she’d ever feel the same about me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nightly, I dreamt about Autumn. They were mostly nightmares, half-remembered dreams where she was screaming for me to help her and I was stuck in place—unable to move. The nightm
ares grew worse as I continued to delay telling her about my connection to Thomas. Each lie I told felt like another stone slipped into my pocket as I waded deeper and deeper into our relationship. The waters were rising around me, and the lies were pulling me down, ending all hope of ever resurfacing.

  I had the briefest of tastes of her, and I wanted more. Being sexual with the girl I loved was poles apart from my previous relationships. My sexual past consisted of mostly drunken hookups that concluded with an awkward morning after.

  The next time we were together, alone in her dorm room, she had told me to take her and how she wanted me as much as I wanted her. Being with her felt so incredibly good because it meant something. When I savored the taste of her clit on my tongue for the first time and felt her climax with my fingers pushed inside of her—I felt the strongest bond to her. I loved the way her eyelashes fluttered when she finished and the way she gasped for breath. I loved knowing I could do that to her and she belonged only to me.

  I told her we had to wait—I had to divulge all my dirty secrets before we took that next step. She promised me I wouldn’t lose her, and I wanted to believe in those words. I clung to the idea like a life raft—despite knowing in my heart she wouldn’t exonerate me. She couldn’t forgive me because I’d never be able to forgive myself.

  The thing was, I could make excuses for my lies. I told myself I hadn’t known the real Autumn and would have never expected to fall in love with the girl I’d been groomed to despise. I approached her with an ulterior motive, but the end result was I’d uncovered the truth. My goal when I saw her at the party was to find out what really happened between her and my stepfather. And I accomplished that. I believed with every fiber of my being she had told the truth.

  Even if I could make exceptions for my lies, I couldn’t repent for the one thing I’d never be able to change: loving Thomas. How could she accept that the man who had tried to rape her had been my father in all ways but one? I was ashamed of my love for him, but couldn’t deny it had been real. It was twisted, but I almost wished for him to have been cruel and malicious all along. I didn’t want the loss of him to hurt the way it did. I craved the ability to walk away from my stepfather without as much as a backward glance.