Page 2 of All Autumn
At the door I paused and removed the ring I’d loved until a few minutes ago. Walking back to the desk, I set it in the middle of all the broken glass. I stared at it for a moment, my heart just as shattered as that champagne bottle. When the tears threatened to fall, I walked out, refusing to let Brian see me cry.
“Don’t do this, Autumn.”
I kept going. As I walked past the employees who’d gathered to witness my shame, I somehow managed to hold my chin up. I’d never been so humiliated in my life, and I didn’t know which feeling to embrace. The embarrassment, the rage brewing inside me, or the ache in my chest that felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my heart?
2
~ Connor ~
I’d never been happierto lose a customer. The Merricks had been the clients from hell. I bet I’d shown them more than a hundred houses over the past six months. Nothing had been right. The living room was too small. The living room was too big. Same for the bedrooms, bathrooms, and kitchens.
Then there was the land. The houses I’d shown them were either too high up in the mountains, too low, too close to the neighbors, or too secluded. They were too close to town, too far away. They cost too much—even though I’d never shown them a house above their stated budget—or the price was suspiciously low. That cheap, there must be something wrong with it.
Thirty minutes ago I’d stood in the middle of the living room of yet another house, listening to both of them complain about the paint colors.
“It’s just fucking paint,” I’d snapped. It was as if time had stopped, all three of us shocked into silence at my outburst.
Before I could apologize, Mr. Merrick said, “There is a lady present, Mr. Hunter. I don’t think you’re the right realtor for us.”
There was a God. “Yes, I believe you’re right. I’ll email you the name of a realtor I think would be perfect for you.” I faced Mrs. Merrick. “I sincerely apologize for my language.”
She huffed, then marched out of the house, her husband giving me one last look of disgust as he followed her. “Good riddance,” I muttered after the door banged closed behind them. I’d never lost my cool with a client before, but since it got them off my hands, I couldn’t quite regret it. When I got back to the office, I’d send them Al Crane’s contact information. He was always trying to steal other realtors’ customers, and I’d gladly give him this couple on a silver platter. Al and the Merricks deserved each other.
Adam, my twin brother, and I owned Hunter Brothers Luxury Log Homes. He built them. I was a licensed realtor, selling our own properties, along with other houses in the area.
Driving home, I berated myself for letting the situation go so far downhill that I’d acted unprofessionally. I should have referred them to another realtor months ago. But they’d become something of a challenge, and I’d never backed down from a challenge. Live and learn, I guess. That was one mistake I’d never make again. From now on, if…
“The hell?” I yelled, yanking the steering wheel hard to the right. The car coming at me swerved back into its lane, but the driver overcorrected. I watched with growing horror in my rearview mirror as it disappeared off the side of the mountain. Making a U-turn, I sped back to where I’d seen the car go over.
When I reached the edge, I peered down, not even sure the car would still be visible. The roads around here were two lanes, often with steep drop-offs and heavy brush. There had been instances where drivers went over the side and no one was the wiser. Last month a woman had done just that, and three days passed before they found her, barely alive.
Luck had been on this driver’s side. Not only had I seen the car go over, but there was only a ten-foot drop before the land flattened out, then dropped off again. The car’s grill was embedded in a tree, which had stopped the vehicle from flying off the second drop-off. I slid down the side of the mountain, afraid of what I’d find when I reached the door.
I peered into the window. All I could tell was that the driver was a woman with long, honey-colored hair. The airbag looked like a huge blob of dough trying to devour her.
“Miss? Are you okay?” The airbag began to deflate, allowing me to see her face. “Autumn?” We’d been friends since grade school. My heart pounded with urgency as I pried open the door. “Autumn, are you okay?” She was crying, so that meant she was alive, thank God. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me where it hurts.”
She lifted her tearstained face. “Right here.” She hit her chest with her fist.
“Your chest hurts?” Christ, did she have internal injuries? I needed to get rescue out here.
“No,” she wailed. “My heart.”
“You hurt your heart?” That was oddly specific.
“No, he…he did.”
I glanced at the passenger seat, but there was no one there. Maybe she’d bumped her head, leaving her confused. I gently touched the bruise on her cheek from the airbag. It had probably saved her life, so a bruise was a small price to pay.
“Does that hurt?” Ignoring my question, she pushed the deflated airbag over the steering wheel. “Don’t move,” I said when she started to climb out. “You might be injured, your neck or something.”
She rotated her head. “Nope, I’m fine.” Tears filled her blue eyes again. “Except for my heart. That’s irreparably broken.”
“It’ll make me feel a lot better if you’d stay still. I’ll call for rescue to—” I think my eyes bugged out of their sockets when she flashed me as she swung her legs to the side of the seat. “Autumn, you’re, ah, naked under that raincoat.” And why was she wearing a raincoat on a sunny April day anyway, which, at the moment, wasnotstrategically covering her below the waist? I glanced up, not seeing a cloud in the sky, and kept my gaze lifted, giving her time to cover herself.
“Yeah, well, you know what they say. The best laid plans and all that.”
Whatever that meant. At least she’d stopped crying. There wasn’t a man on earth who knew what to do with a crying woman. Actually, thinking about it, she’d gone from sobbing to pissed in mere minutes. I was more worried than ever that she’d hit her head.
