Page 18 of Autumn Skies & Pumpkin Pies

“Because I loved you. You were trying to jeopardize everything you had ever worked for because of me and I couldn’t let you do that. You would have never been happy.”

“I would have been happy with you. I didn't need all of this to be happy,” I tell her, as I point back towards the board.

Warbee shakes her head. “That’s easy to say now. You didn’t have to make that decision.”

“You’re right, I didn’t because you made it for me. I got no say in it. Besides, you could have joined me after graduation,” I remind her.

“It’s not what I wanted.” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

Those words are like ice cold daggers. “So, you let me go because I’m not what you wanted, but you loved me.”

“I never said I didn’t want you. I didn’t want the life you wanted. Spotlights and fame aren’t for me. Those things were for you and Teaganne. I love and support you no matter what, but I couldn't let me hold you back. I’m always going to be this small-town girl and you needed more than that.” She turns around, her shoulders slump, but anger boils.

I slam my own cup down on the table. Warbee flinches and a pang of guilt shoots through my heart. “I needed you, but I didn’t get that, did I?” I tell her. As I leave the bakery, I hear sniffles and it pulls at every part of my heart. When I reach the truck, I climb inside and hit the steering wheel a few times. This is supposed to be our second chance but I’m messing it all up because of some damn wall with clippings on it. It’s the reminder that the life I used to have is over and that’s what set me off. I love the idea that Warbee kept them throughout the years. However, the reminder that my career is over is one of the hardest things to swallow sometimes. I’m a man with pride and some ego, both are bruised from the injury that ended it all.

Once I’ve had time to calm down, I head back into the bakery. Warbee is sitting at the table. When I enter, she turns around, shock registers on her face. “Rocker?”

I cross the bakery and pull her into my arms. My lips find hers in a kiss full of years where we have missed one another. The moment we meet it’s like I’m home. Home is a person, not a place, and I found mine once again.

EIGHTEEN

Warbee

When the bell over the door rings out through the bakery, I barely have time to react before Rocker is upon me. I quietly asked if it was him because I felt it was possible that I could be imagining things. A part of Rocker is so deeply ingrained in my soul that I find it hard to fight or ignore the pull he has over me. However, he never speaks; he just crosses the bakery until he reaches me. I knew it was coming, but I could have never prepared myself for this. Rocker pulls me into his arms. The arms that are so familiar in so many ways. Once upon a time, they were my safe haven, the place where I knew I could be myself. They’re still the same arms, just bigger, more muscle, a larger sense of safety settles within the pit of my stomach as they wrap around me. His lips find mine with ease. Lips that I still dream about even if I don’t want to admit it. The lips that were my first kiss. The fire that starts raging within my blood the moment our lips meet is unexpected. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s all consuming and exciting. My arms wrap around his waist and my hands tangle into his shirt. An anchor for me to hold myself firmly on the ground.

Eleven years of every emotion possible can be found between our lips in this kiss. It’s passion, anger, hurt, longing, lust, curiosity, and love, all wrapped up into one incredibly intense moment. A moment so intense I can barely breathe but when I do it’s all Rocker and I’m okay with that. It’s scary how consumed I can become with him. It’s possible he could be temporary in my life. I should guard myself more, but even as that thought comes into my head, I know it’s silly. There’s no way to guard yourself from Rocker Gordon, it’s just not possible.

When Rocker’s lips finally move away just enough for us to catch a breath, my head is dizzy. He’s barely a centimeter away, but there’s something completely overwhelming in breathing the same air he is. I finally find my voice of reason. “What are you doing?” It’s a valid question. Rocker has been nothing but confusing in the last ten minutes. He went from happy and sweet and to upset and angry, and now after storming out of the bakery he returns to kiss me like I’ve never been kissed. A kiss that reminded me of those kisses in the old Hollywood movies I love so much.

He sighs and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry for the mood swing. I guess, I’m still adjusting to this new reality and everything has been a little overwhelming since I returned.”

“I could see how that would be possible.” Rocker had a life so different than the one he has now. I was wondering if he was making the transition as easily as he seemed.” You know what I like to do when I’m overwhelmed?” He shakes his head. “I like to bake. Do you want to bake with me?”

“I’d love to,” he replies. I take his hand and lead him through my bakery to the kitchen. I turn on the oven so it can preheat and grab aprons from the hooks by the swing wood doors that separate the kitchen for the rest of the bakery. The kitchen is large and fresh. Exposed brick walls and all stainless-steel appliances, tables and anything else I could find. it’s a mixture of the old and the new. I head into the pantry and Rocker follows me without me asking. I grab some mixing bowls and start to pile the ingredients into the bowls in Rocker’s arms. We make our way to one of the long stainless-steel tables. “What are we making?”

I shrug but smile. “I thought we’d keep it simple and go with a classic...pumpkin pie.” It was always one of Rocker’s favorites. I start adding the ingredients for the crust and have him work it and roll it out before we place it into a pie pan and form it. Next, we move onto the pumpkin pie filling. The smell of pumpkin, cinnamon and all spice consumes my senses. It’s one of my favorite things about baking. Once it’s mixed, I take a spoon and let Rocker try it. He moans in appreciation. “It’s good, right?”

“The best. You should try it.” Rocker dips his finger into the mix and places it on my lips, waiting for my invitation. I try to fight the fiery pit in my stomach but lose and eventually lick the mix from his finger.

I laugh. “It’s a good thing this pie is for us and I’m not trying to sell it considering you just stuck your finger into it.”

Rocker’s eyes meet mine, he places a quick kiss on the tip of my nose, before stepping away a few inches. I feel the absence the minute he does and a part of me wants to protest but luckily, I remind myself that I don’t need him. “You know my entire life was about getting to the NFL and I made it. Being there was amazing, but it also wasn’t exactly everything I had hoped for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful I was a part of it, but it wasn’t all fame and glory like a lot of people assume.”

I shake my head. “I never assumed that.”

He looks at me and smiles. “Of course, you didn’t. You were always a step ahead of the rest of us. As tiring as it could be though, I still knew that when I stepped out onto that field, I was doing exactly what I should be doing. I knew I was great at it and that’s an intoxicating and addicting feeling to have. Then the injury happened…”

Rocker trails off and falls silent. I step forward and take his hand, the pie forgotten. “Did you know before the doctor told you?” From the moment I heard the news about his knee injury, I wondered if Rocker knew before the doctor told him or if he was hoping he could recover and play again.

“I knew the moment I landed on the field that it was done. I was done. Everyone around me kept trying to build me up and give me false hope, but I knew. I felt my knee rip in ways that can’t be repaired. So, when the doctor told me I thought I was prepared, but I guess there’s no real way to prepare to end your career at twenty-nine.” Rocker takes his ball cap off and runs his fingers through his hair before replacing it.

I look around the kitchen of my bakery and try to remember what it felt like for the year that I didn’t have the energy to bake. However, I knew there was a possibility for me to bake again. Rocker didn’t get that. The wall of fame comes to mind and it all falls into place. The wall set off the reminder that his life has changed, and he has been forced to let the game go. My hand reaches up and caresses his cheek. “I don’t have any words of wisdom for you. I wish I did, but I’m not sure there are any. You’ve had to let go of the one thing you loved more than anything.” That I could relate to as I sit here looking at this boy who somewhere along the way grew into a man.

Rocker gives me a sad smile. “The second thing I was forced to let go. The first thing I loved more than anything, including football, forced me to let her walk away eleven years ago.”

My heart jumps into my throat and I retract my hand from his face. “You can’t say stuff like that.” It’s more of a mumble and I hate how weak it sounds.

“Why not?” he asks.

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