When Autumn Ends Page 13

  “Do whatever it is you need to do, but the publisher wants a rough draft of something in front of them by January thirty-first.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? That’s only two and a half months away.”

  “And your point being? You’ve written number one bestsellers in less time than that.”

  “Edward, that was a different time in my life. I can’t be expected to—”

  “I’m not expecting you to do anything. The publishing company you have a legal binding agreement with is. So, make it happen.”

  The more I was around Edward the more I was beginning to realize what a douchebag he was. He was falling right into the new trend of the more books the better because the more books I pumped out, the more money he’d make. Yes, writing was my livelihood and a means to pay my bills, but it would always be an art to me first, and I’d never produce half-ass work just to appease some stupid publishing deal.

  “Don’t forget you have that dinner on Thanksgiving weekend.”

  “I won’t be there,” I said as I stood up.

  “What do you mean you won’t be there?” Edward asked, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

  “Just what I said…I’m not going.”

  “Ethan!” he shouted when I reached the door. “You’re committing career suicide by excluding yourself from these events.”

  I opened the door and turned around to face him before making my exit. “I may be, but I’d rather kill my career than kill myself, and for the first time in a long time, I feel alive…and it has nothing to do with my career.”

  He shook his head in disbelief as I walked out the door.

  I took the elevator down and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, knowing I should probably head upstate to my cabin and lock myself away until I came up with something that would at least appease my publisher even if it didn’t satisfy me. But as I got into my car and headed out of the city, my heart was leading me in a different direction than my head.

  ***

  Three hours later and I was standing on the front porch of Jenna’s place, waiting for her to answer the door. Her smile that greeted me erased any doubts I may have had about blowing off my writing.

  “Ethan! I thought you were in the city.” Her warm, soft lips pressed against mine was like a refreshing rain after a long, tedious drought.

  “I was. This afternoon. I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I—”

  “Don’t be sorry. This was the best surprise ever! Come in. You’re just in time to be my guinea pig for this new recipe.”

  I followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until she put the plateful of pasta in front of me.

  “Well?” she asked after I took the first bite as she took a seat next to me.

  “It’s really good.” I wasn’t lying. Jenna was one of the best cooks I’d ever met.

  “Phew, I thought maybe I used a little too much basil.”

  “Nope, it’s perfect.”

  She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, unable to wipe away her smile.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Oh...” She snapped out of it, leaning over the table and kissing me on the cheek. “I’m just so happy you’re here.”

  Little did she know, but I was probably even happier than her to be here.

  After dinner, we sat in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine. “So, how did your meeting go today?” Jenna asked.

  I sighed heavily. I was having such a great time with her, I’d totally forgotten about the bullshit from earlier. “Ah, it sucked.” I focused on the dancing flames in the fireplace. “You know the new rule in publishing is crank out as many books as you can and who cares if they suck, as long as the publishing companies and agents are getting their money…fuck the readers.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. Gone are the days of Harper Lee where just one book could have a profound effect on future generations. It’s so sad.”

  “Yeah, it is. They’re expecting me to have a rough draft to my editor by the end of January.”

  Her eyes widened. “How on earth are you going to pull that off?”

  “Don’t know. I’m ready to just do what all these other authors are doing…give them a shit story, rake in the money for it, and just suck up the bad reviews.”

  “Ethan, you don’t want to do that.”

  “I don’t. But what other choice do I have? I have a legal obligation to my publisher and fuck the readers, according to Edward.”

  Her face dropped at the mention of his name.

  “Well, do you have any ideas at all for a new story?”

  I shook my head and took a sip of wine. “I’ve been so out of the writing world for the past year, I’m not even sure if I know how to do it anymore. I totally removed myself from anything and everything that had to do with the publishing industry.”

  “Well, they say that a lot of these old bed-and-breakfasts around here are haunted. Maybe you can do a ghost story and use this as the setting.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t overthink it.”

  She put her glass of wine down and pressed her lips to mine. “Then don’t.”

  I smiled as she lifted her shirt over her head. My lips trailed down her neck and we both eased ourselves to the floor. Any thoughts of a new book were temporarily put to rest. The only thing now filling my mind was making love to the beautiful woman lying beside me.

  Chapter 23

  Jenna

  I ROLLED OVER AND REACHED for Ethan, only he wasn’t there. When my eyes finally adjusted to make out the bright red 3:17 on the clock, I sat up, trying to make out the eerie shapes in the darkness. My mind always played tricks on me this time of night, creating an instant sense of dread. I reached for the lamp on my nightstand, amazed at how just a little bit of light chased away any irrational thoughts. My feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and I slipped on my sweatshirt that was lying on the chair. Darkness greeted me when I opened my bedroom door to the long hallway with a million thoughts racing through my head. Had Ethan gone in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye? Or maybe he’d just gone for a walk on the beach to clear his head. I knew he was stressed over the deadline his publisher had placed on him. I crept down the stairs, searching for some form of life, but there was none. I was just about to look out the front door for his car when a faint light in the dining room caught my eye.

  “Ethan.” I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him sitting at the table in the darkness with just the glow of his laptop.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I just rolled over and you weren’t there...and I missed you.” I moved closer.

  “Oh, I just woke up and had some thoughts I wanted to type out before I forgot them.”

  “That’s great! Is this for a new story?”

  “Yeah, but this one isn’t going to be the one I submit for the deadline. This one is going to get the proper attention it deserves.”

  I smiled, happy to see him showing a little enthusiasm once again for something he was so good at.

  “That’s awesome!”

  He nodded. “And I actually think I came up with something to appease my publisher.”

  “Really? Can you tell me about it?” I asked, taking a seat next to him.

  “About two years ago, I started this story. I was about halfway into it, and I ditched it. I wasn’t happy with the way it was going. I wanted to take some time to sit on it and see if I could rework some things. That was around the time Darrah and I were really at each other’s throats. She was accusing me of spending too much of my time writing, while Edward was on my case to get it done. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I deleted it, all seventy thousand plus words that I’d done. I thought I had some of it saved to my laptop, but I must’ve gotten rid of that too. It’s been so long since I even opened this damn thing, I’m surprised there aren’t cobwebs growing in
it.”

  “What about a flash drive? Is there a chance that you could have saved it to one?”

  “I probably did, but in the heat of one of my fights with Darrah, she wigged out and threw all my flash drives in the fireplace.”

  “Oh, man. That sucks.”

  “Yeah, well…like I said, I wasn’t happy with the writing, but now that I have the premise, I think I can put something together.”

  “Well, can you share the premise with me or do I have to wait like everyone else?” I grinned.

  “How’s this sound? Let me do a few chapters and then I’ll pass them by you first to get your expert opinion on them.”

  “Wow, I’m honored. Jonathan Reed wants my feeble little opinion on his work?”

  “No, Ethan Banks does.” He smiled.

  “Well, either way, I would love to be given that opportunity. But I have to warn you, I’m a very mean editor,” I joked.

  “The meaner the better.” He raised an eyebrow. “But somehow, I think I could win you over.”

  “Nope. There will be no special treatment, Mr. Reed. I—”

  He leaned over and pressed his lips against mine and I melted.

  “That’s not fair,” I whispered, throwing my head back as he kissed my neck.

  I reached over and closed his laptop, falling into his lap and surrendering.

  ***

  The morning faded into afternoon, and I was holding out hope that Ethan would be sticking around for a little while longer. “I know it’s like bedlam here with the plumbers running in and out and all of the other construction going on, but why don’t you just stay and write? You can sit on the beach during the day with your laptop, and then by dinnertime everything starts to quiet down.”

  He took my hand in his and pressed his forehead against mine. “I’d love to, but there’s one distraction I can’t ignore.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, willing to alleviate whatever it was, if it meant he’d stay.

  “You.”

  I shook my head and smiled in defeat, realizing how selfish it was of me to want him to stay with me when he had such a strict deadline to meet. “Fine. You win,” I relented.

  “So, today is Tuesday.” He stared into space, deep in thought. “If I write nonstop between now and Friday, I think I could be right on schedule to take a break and come see you again this weekend.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” He wasn’t even gone yet and I was already counting the hours until I’d see him again. My heart sank when he put on his coat and grabbed his things. Each time I was with him, it was harder and harder to say goodbye. “Oh, wait!” I darted into the kitchen and grabbed the little care package I’d made for him. “I made some blueberry muffins, chocolate chip cookies, and some baked ziti for you to take back with you for some writing fuel.”

  A genuine smile spread across his face. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.”

  “What can I say? You’re cute. Go write your brains out, so you can get back here this weekend, and I can start reading some of your chapters.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I walked out to the front porch with him, wishing I could freeze time. He took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. “You better leave before I kidnap you and hold you hostage. Hey…now there’s an idea for a book! Oh, wait, it’s already been done.” I chuckled.

  “I’ll text you later.”

  “K. Drive safely.”

  He brushed my forehead with his lips and headed down the steps to his car. The cool, brisk air sent a chill through me as I stood on the porch reveling in the intense connection I had with the man who’d just driven away. It seemed so bizarre to think that a little over a month ago I was ready to spend forever with someone else. Now here I was, consumed with this beautiful, damaged soul who was becoming a bigger part of my life than I could have ever imagined. Was it crazy? Maybe. Would it end in heartache? Possibly. But as screwed up as it all seemed, my heart was powerless to stop it.

  Chapter 24

  Ethan

  FOUR CHAPTERS IN, AND THE story was starting to take flight. It was completely coming back to me, and this time it all seemed right. Finding the first few chapters in an email I’d sent to myself years ago was an added bonus, but this time, my writing was much clearer, and I was feeling confident I’d meet this deadline with time to spare. It may not have been my best work, but it would be something to keep them off my back for now.

  I’d been living off coffee for the past two days and my stomach was finally speaking up. I stood up and stretched as I gazed out my office window, wondering when the rain had started. I ran my hand along my cheek line, discovering I was in desperate need of a shave. Come to think of it, I was in desperate need of a shower too, but for right now that would all have to wait because my need for food was stronger. I made my way to the kitchen and stuck my head into the fridge, adding a trip to the grocery store to my list of things to do. My stomach was thankful when I spotted the lone container of food Jenna had made for me. I wasted no time, popping the lid off and sticking it in the microwave.

  The moment the food she prepared touched my lips, thoughts of her immediately flooded my mind. I missed her—like really and truly missed her. This was all so strange to me. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone again. My heart had been locked away and the key was missing forever, but somehow Jenna managed to unlock it, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a little. I’d never felt the way I was feeling for her about anyone else, not even Darrah, and I was wondering when it would all be taken from me. Nothing good lasted in my life, especially not something as good as Jenna. So, for now, I was going to enjoy each moment I was lucky enough to have with her and deal with the aftermath of what was sure to come afterward. I’d only texted with her a few times since I’d gotten home and was dying to hear her voice, but I had to focus on getting some serious writing done and talking to her would just veer me off path. So, for now, I was limiting our contact to text messages only, until I could see her again. I scrolled through my phone’s call log at the dozen or so calls I’d blown off in the last couple days. Quite a few from Edward, which could wait, but also some from my sister. I hit her name, deciding to use this little break to call her back.

  “Ethan! I was getting worried,” she answered.

  My sister’s number one job in life was to worry. If it wasn’t over her kids, it was over me.

  “I’m fine, Helene.”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to call you for the past two days.”

  “Sorry, I have a deadline.”

  “Oh—you’re writing again?”

  I sensed a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.

  “Only out of obligation,” I responded.

  “Well, that’s still great news.”

  “So, what’s going on? How are the kids?” I changed the topic, wanting to get off me. For the past year, every time I spoke to my sister it was as if she was analyzing my mental state of mind. I knew it was only out of concern, but I wanted her to just stop worrying about me constantly.

  “Oh, you know. Kelsey is loving the college life. Josh has this new girlfriend he’s become a little too serious with. So, between her and all the sports he’s involved with, he’s barely ever home. So, basically, it’s just Tom and me. It sucks that they have to grow up.” She sighed.

  I was silent for a moment, wishing I’d been given the opportunity with Nolan. Right on cue, she was reading my thoughts like always.

  “Oh my God, Ethan, I’m so insensitive. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Helene, it’s okay.” I hated that she felt she needed to choose each word she said to me.

  “Well, I called to see what your plans were for Thanksgiving.”

  I hadn’t even given Thanksgiving a second thought. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure what day of the week I was in at that moment. “Oh, nothing much. I’m just going to be working on this writing project.”

  “We’re going to Dad’s. I’m goi
ng to cook there for everyone. He’s not doing too well.” She was cautious with her statement.

  “Have fun with that.”

  “I would love for you to join us.”

  Helene knew better than anyone what my relationship with my father or lack thereof was. The last time I’d seen him was at my mother’s funeral, and I refused to even acknowledge him. It made me sick to watch him play the grieving husband, knowing how much physical pain he’d caused my mother. I didn’t care he’d since stopped drinking and claimed to be a changed man. It didn’t change the shitty way he treated me growing up. He tried reaching out to me after everything went down with Darrah and Nolan, and I refused to accept any of his sympathy. I disowned him as my father a long time ago, therefore he was nothing to my son either.

  “Just stop, Helene. It’s not gonna happen.”

  “Ethan, this may be the last holiday he’s around. I just don’t want you having any regrets. Maybe make your peace—”

  “Me, have regrets? Me? I wasn’t the one who’d beat the shit out of my wife and a helpless child on a regular basis. Maybe he should be the one who has fuckin’ regrets, Helene.”

  “I know, Ethan. I’m not downplaying how he behaved, and believe me, once he became sober and realized how he treated you, he—”

  My anger sparked. I didn’t want to go off on my sister, so instead, I said my goodbyes before spewing something I couldn’t take back. I wished I’d never called her. Over the years, I’d erased any thoughts of my father from my mind, and the last thing I wanted now was for him to come crawling back into it. I took a few more bites of my food and pushed it away. I headed upstairs, hoping a shower would help clear my head and get me back into the writing mode I was in earlier.

  When I walked into my bedroom, I looked up at the custom artwork of the sailboat that Darrah had commissioned for a very hefty price tag. That picture meant everything to her, and it was as if I was noticing it for the very first time in the past year. I walked over and yanked it from the wall, slamming it onto the hardwood floor and stomping on it over and over again until it was unrecognizable.