Page 13 of Autumn Skies & Pumpkin Pies

“You have to.”

“The hell I do! I love you. I told you at the beginning of the summer I’d stay if you wanted me to. I told you that if it came down to you or leaving for college, I’d pick you,” he reminds me.

I step towards him. “I know and I love you so much. I wish you could see that right now, but I have to love you enough to let you go.”

“That’s such bullshit!”

“It’s not! I know you don’t see it right now, but you will. You’ll understand once you’ve had time to come to terms with it. This is the best thing for you. You’re destined for greatness, Rocker. You’re destined for a life outside of Blue Ridge. You deserve that and I want it for you. You have to let me go.” These are the daily reminders I tell myself. I thought they would prepare me for this moment, but they’ve done nothing but give me the perfect speech.

Rocker scrubs his hands over his face. “You can’t do this.”

I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I breathe in the scent of his soap and cologne before reaching up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I have to. I hope someday you understand. I love you enough to let you go.”

“And I love you enough to hold on,” he counters. His hand locks with mine. The warmth and safety of it breaks me in a whole new way.

I almost give in because the idea that this could be the last time, I feel his hand in mine is too much to bear. After taking a deep breath I meet his blue eyes, they’re swimming in moisture. “I know you do, but I’m walking away and eventually you’ll see this is the right thing to do. I’ll see you again someday under the autumn sky.” I pull my hands free, spin on my heels and nearly run to my car. Once I’m finally inside, I glance at the field. I half expected him to chase after me, but he seems to be frozen in place. The tears break like a dam in a river, the uncontrollable sobbing hits me like a tidal wave. I have no idea how I’m going to survive this.

Even now that memory seems like just yesterday. My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. I can feel those same pin pricks at the back of my eyes as I draw closer to the field where I found and lost the love of my life.

FIFTEEN

Rocker

This morning was a rough one. I slept harder than anticipated and even though my house came furnished, it did not come with a coffee maker. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I don’t trust people who can survive without coffee. I got dressed quickly after calling my mom to let her know I arrived in to town safely and then headed out the door. I had to find some coffee. On my way to the high school I spotted a little local bakery, Bee’s Batter. It’s the spot that used to belong to June, Warbee’s granny. It makes me sad to see June Bug's is no longer around. The sign for Bee’s Batter is hard to miss with the mixing bowl of spilling batter and a spoon lying beside it being circled by a few honeybees. It was cute, catchy, and perfect for our small town. Luckily, there was a truck backing out of a parking space as I got closer.

The moment I enter the bakery, I’m hit with all the scents of autumn and I love it. Although, with this time of year and the scents that accompany it, the memories of Warbee are hard to ignore. Regardless, it is still my favorite time of year. By the time I finish ordering, my arms are piled high. I ended up buying way too much, but it all looked and smelled amazing. I don’t even wait until I reach the school to bite into the apple cinnamon scone calling my name. It’s even better than it looks. By the time I reach the school, I’m beyond full and wide awake. I grab the second to-go cup. The bakery’s special today was apple cinnamon tea and even though I’m not a big tea fan I couldn’t turn it down.

I watch as the students stand around in the cliques as I make my way to the football field. It’s going to be a bittersweet moment to step onto that field again, so I figured it was best to do it alone and not in front of the team I’m going to be coaching. Memories from my glory days come flooding back at full speed. The pep rallies and football games with an entire town cheering for you. Those were the memories that I thought I’d always hold on to. Then Warbee happened and now this field is tied to her in more ways than one, and nothing can come close to that.

As I approach the football field, I notice a female student just standing on the fifty-yard line, our yard line. The yard line where I confessed, I was her secret admirer, kissed her for the first time and had my heart shattered. It’s odd to see a female student on the football field unless she’s a cheerleader. The alarm on my phone starts to go off, alerting the student I’m approaching. However, when she turns around, I realize she’s not a student. She’s just petite. I guess some things never change because Warbee Carter is still no taller than five-feet tall. Her red hair hangs just past her shoulders as it dances in the wind. She pushes her large, black rimmed glasses back up her nose with one finger. “Rocker.” Her voice is barely audible, but I could read those lips from a hundred yards away. The lips that I had tried my hardest to forget my freshman year of college but no matter who I kissed, they never compared to hers.

“Warbee,” I reply. Silence falls between us as the autumn wind moves between us. I can hear the students and rustling of leaves in the distance, but I’m lost in her hazel eyes. It’s like I’m seventeen all over again. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I do...kind of. I heard a rumor you were returning to be the head football coach.” She pulls the sleeve of her sweater down until her slender hands are tucked inside. It’s a nervous gesture that I’m guessing she never outgrew. Something about that makes me smile.

I nod my head. “Some rumors are true and that’s one of them. I’m back. I got a house just outside of town.”

Warbee looks away, almost as if she’s uncomfortable. “That’s good.” The bell rings and she turns back to me. “I guess that’s our sign.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. May I walk you to your classroom or office?” The question falls out before I can think about it.

A blush creeps up into her cheeks. “Yes, I’d love that.”

Neither of us says much as we walk among the students. I follow beside Warbee. Being in her presence again reminds me even more just how much I missed her. When we reach the cooking lab she turns around and smiles up at me. “Cooking class, huh?”

She nods her head. “Yep, if I remember correctly, I saved you a few times in this class back in the day.”

I chuckle. “You did. Although it was your fault, I switched my second semester elective to cooking.” She laughs and it’s still the same sound I remember. It’s sweet and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My heart speeds up as well.

Warbee shrugs. “It’s not my fault you assumed it’d be an easy A. You thought because we spent so much time in my granny’s bakery that you’d sail right through cooking class.”

“Well, I didn’t think that cooking and baking would be so different,” I admit. Warbee smiles at me. I smile back and I watch that blush flood her cheeks. She’s still the same yet so different at the same time. I skim her hand to see if a ring is on that oh so important finger. I breathe a little easier when I see it empty and no tan line from one either. I’m not sure why it even matters. It’s been eleven years since I called her mine. I’m being silly for thinking I could do so again so easily. I’m sure a girl like Warbee has a boyfriend at least.

We stand there, facing each other but it’s silent, neither of us sure what to say. I clear my throat. “Hey, does Blue Ridge still do the Blue Ridge’s Bushels of Fun?” Bushels of Fun was the yearly fall festival. It started in September and continued to grow throughout the season.

“Of course! Some things never change. It kicks off this Friday,” she tells me.

My smile is instant. “Well, if you aren’t busy would you like to go with me on Friday evening? I mean we can take the hayride and pick some pumpkins and bob for apples.”

---