He nodded. On that, they agreed.
He hoped he had the words.
––––––––
~oOo~
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Ida hooked her bag over her shoulder and wagged her finger at Cox. “Autumn wants privacy with you, so I’m leaving. But you need to know I’m not scared of you, and that girl right there is my ride or die. You might be a big, hot, scary biker, but I fight dirty.”
In the ten minutes since Autumn had pulled him into her apartment, Cox had decided Ida was one of the rare not-shitty people in the world. She didn’t like him at all, but her animosity was why he’d warmed to her. She didn’t like him because he’d hurt her friend, and she was not letting him off easy for it. He admired that kind of loyalty.
So he answered her puffed-up threat with a somber nod. “Heard.”
Shifting her focus to Autumn, Ida shook her finger again. “And you! Be smart, but don’t be chicken. Figure out what you want and how to have it. You get that backward way too much. And call me when you two fools figure this out.”
With that, she wrapped Autumn up in a hug, kissed her cheek, and sailed from the apartment.
And they were alone.
For Cox, the week she’d stayed with him was such a numb blur, this moment right here felt like the first time they’d been alone since the night he’d stayed at the inn with her. That night seemed ages ago and also like last night.
She was watching him, her arms crossed protectively over her heart again. A span of six or eight feet, the length of the fancy marble island in her kitchen, separated them.
All he’d seen of this apartment was what was visible from the front door, but even that limited perspective made him a little uncomfortable—and also impressed. Autumn was apparently loaded.
This two-story apartment in a redesigned old school building was ultramodern and bright. Extremely urban. The staircase alone, a wide, curved sculpture of a thing, belonged in a museum. Nothing in Signal Bend came anywhere close to architecture like this.
He grabbed that thought and choked it out. Thoughts like that had not pushed him all the way to Indiana, and now that he was here, he was interested only in going for the thing that had pushed him here.
“What did she mean, you get it backwards too much?” he asked, because they were the words he had just now.
A faint pink hue arose on her face, and she chuckled softly. “Ida says I’m afraid to go for what I really want and figure out what I need to do to get it. In her opinion. She says I try to figure out what I can have and then work on making myself want that.”
“What do you really want?” His chest did a weird thump as he asked.
For an uncomfortably long time, Autumn contemplated him silently. He stood, held her gaze, and let her look as long as she needed.
Then, with a great heave of breath, she turned and grabbed the tequila. “You want a drink?”
Cox went to her and took hold of her arm. “After we talk. I want to know what we say here is real.”
Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say. She snatched herself free of his grip and wheeled on him. “And why should booze matter? We said plenty to each other stone-cold sober, you said plenty to me sober, and that didn’t make anything you said any more true, did it?”
Cox didn’t remember enough of that week to recall anything significant he’d said to her before he’d told her to go away. All he remembered was needing her and always finding her when he did, until he’d sent her away. He remembered being able to breathe when she was with him. But if he’d made promises to her, he didn’t remember them.
Her flash of anger, though, ignited his hope. She was still angry, still hurt. She hadn’t gotten over it, over him. The wound he’d made was still fresh, hadn’t hardened into a scar.
That meant he could heal it.
He said the most important thing he could think to say: “I’m sorry.”
She blinked. After a long moment’s consideration, she took a breath and asked, “What are you sorry for, Cox?”
“Hurting you.”
She opened her mouth to respond, and he sensed the challenge coming—those two words were not enough. So he hurried on before she could interject, pushing words from his mouth as fast as he could find them.