“I can’t do it tomorrow, but I can the day after.”
“Friday it is,” I say as I open the car door for her and watch her climb in. “How about I pick you up at six?”
“I’ll be ready.” She turns the key in the ignition and with a final wave, closes the door and pulls away from the curb.
Leaving me alone, standing under the most beautiful autumn sky coming to terms with the fact that I am, officially and unequivocally, falling in love with her.
SIXTEEN
Bex
The cool autumn air nips at my cheeks as we walk down the quiet street, the faint scent of wood smoke drifting on the breeze. Our first official dinner date was cozy, the kind where the conversation flows easily and the food is almost as good as the company. Austin had showed up right on time, looking effortlessly handsome, and picked me up with that easygoing smile that always makes me feel special. He even brought me a single white rose—simple, sweet, and unexpectedly romantic. So far, so good: the evening has been beyond what I would define as perfect. It’s the kind of night that makes you want to hold on to every moment.
I pull my coat a little tighter, savoring the crispness of the evening, when my hand accidentally brushes against Austin’s. The touch is brief, almost imperceptible, but it sends a little jolt through me.
Before I can pull away, his hand finds mine, warm and sure, his fingers threading through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My breath catches, and I glance his way, feeling a rush of something—excitement, maybe, or anticipation. It’s such a simple gesture, but it feels like so much more.
His grip is firm but gentle, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. This thing between us, in this quiet moment, feels like we’re finally starting to understand one another.
The evening is calm, with only the sound of our footsteps on the pavement and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. I’m acutely aware of his presence beside me, of the warmth of his hand and the way it makes everything else seem a little less cold, a little less uncertain.
I squeeze his hand, just a bit, testing the waters, and when he squeezes back, it’s like a silent promise. We walk on, the world around us fading into the background, and for the first time in a long while, I’m content just to be here, next to him, our hands clasped together in the autumn chill.
Austin’s gait slows as he indicates a park bench nearby. “Want to sit?”
“Sure,” I say, following where he leads.
As we approach the bench, a couple walking past slows. The man sidesteps and plants himself in front of Austin.
“Austin Porter?” he inquires as Austin nods. “Thought so. I’m Thomas Landon, Tommy Landon’s father.”
A look of recognition floods Austin’s features as he stands up and shakes Thomas’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Tommy is a good kid. He playing tonight?”
“Sure is, that’s where we’re headed now,” he says, his eyes bright as he peers over Austin’s shoulder to talk to me. “Sorry. He’s been coaching my boy for months now and tonight he goes on the field for the first time. Ever.”
“That’s exciting,” I say, making sure to give his wife, who stands nearby beaming as well, a quick wave.
“You guys headed over to watch the game?” she asks, her voice hopeful.
Austin looks my way. “Well, we hadn’t planned on it…”
“But we can,” I say, looking at Austin with my eyebrows raised in question.
“Well, hope we see you there,” Thomas says as he grabs Austin’s hand and pumps it once more. “And thank you for giving Tommy the self-assurance he needed to get out there again. We’re forever grateful.”
As they head off, I turn and look at Austin, who stands in front of me wearing a sheepish expression.
“If I’m not mistaken, that guy seems to think you’ve been helping his son out?”
Austin holds up a finger. “Okay. Give me a second, and I’ll explain.”
“First things first,” I say, already getting the hint without him having to come out and say it. “Do you want to go to the game?”
He shrugs. “Yes, but I really want to spend time with you, too.”
“You can do both,” I say with a giggle.
He looks around, almost twitchy. I can sense something is up. “Did you have something you wanted to tell me?”
