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He stared at his dad. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you ever do anything to make her want to stay? You didn’t even talk to her about the shop.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d made no promises. No commitments. No nothing. Because he was afraid. That was, up until tonight.
“I was going to talk to her tonight.” Because the truth was, he loved her. Like it or not, terrified as he was, he loved the hell out of that mouthy woman. He didn’t know what he was going to talk to her about. Maybe the shop? Maybe about her staying? Maybe about her leaving? There were always lots of “maybes” when it came to him thinking. Because “maybes” kept things casual.
It wasn’t until right then, with her gone, that he knew what he should have known the whole time. He definitely wanted to talk about how he loved her. And there was no maybe about it.
“Then do it,” his father said. “Don’t sit back and wait. You want something, you go after it, and you hang on to it.”
“What if she doesn’t want to be hung on to? She left. Why would I ask her to stay when she clearly doesn’t want to?”
“You never asked her if she wanted to. You assume. And all that’s doing is making a dipshit out of you, son.”
Huck wanted to tell his dad that the saying went a bit differently, but it didn’t matter. He felt like a dipshit. That didn’t stop his father from handing his ass to him though.
“Autumn is not Sydney. It’s time you really understood that.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s gone now.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Why fight for the woman you want?”
“Damn it, Dad, how can you tell me she’s not like Syd? She left!”
“Why do you think that is? If you don’t know, you should find out. You think she’s gonna haul ass out of here without saying goodbye to someone she cares about? Then you really don’t know her. That
’s what Sydney did. If you don’t realize that’s not what Autumn would do, then you never knew her at all.”
Maybe he didn’t know her. Or maybe he just fucked up royally. Because he’d drove around town and there had been no sign of Autumn. No motorcycle.
She was really gone.
He got back in his truck, cursed and hit his steering wheel. Nowhere else to go but home. He drove to his place. Hating every mile. Replaying every moment with her, the things he could have said. Wondering if it would’ve made a difference or if she’d have left anyway.
Then it hit him: it didn’t matter.
She left? She was gone? Then he’d chase her. He’d find her. He’d tell her everything he should have said and prove to her why they would work. Why he wanted her to stay. First he needed to get a bag packed because looked like he had to get to LA.
He pulled up to his house and found a shiny bike in his driveway and a woman on his porch.
He recognized both instantly, and his breath stalled.
You think she’d leave without saying goodbye to someone she cares about?
His father’s word flashed in his mind. She cared about him. Now he had to either stop being a chicken shit and say what he needed to say, or let her go.
Either way, it was time he fought.
He got out of the truck and walked toward her. Her eyes were a little red. Like she’d been crying? She held her arms over her chest. It was the most defensive, the most scared he’d ever seen her.
Stop being so self-centered.
He hadn’t thought that maybe something had gone wrong in her world. Something that had nothing to do with him.
“What happened, honey?” he asked.
“You!” she snapped. Oh. “You happened. I was fine. And like an idiot, I thought you were different. I thought I meant something to you—”
