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They both helped me that night. They’re both special to me in different ways.
“Connor?”
He coughed a little, his voice growing more gruff. “Yeah?”
“If my dad gets better like they think he will, then I’ll head back to Boston. And if I can do that, then I’d like to go to Thanksgiving at your parents’ house.”
“You would?”
“If you still want me to.”
“It would mean everything to…me. But are you sure?”
“I never spend Thanksgiving at the farm. I can only ever afford one holiday flight and Christmas wins.”
“I can help with any flight, Autumn.”
“I know. But this is the one that counted.” I leaned back against the swing. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too. And I’m here if you need me.”
“Th
at’s all I need.” Tears filled my eyes again.
“Don’t cry,” he said, his whispering voice softer. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How did you know I was crying?”
I heard him take a long, slow breath. Full of hesitation. “I’m starting to memorize you,” he said. “Not just your words but how you talk. The silences between words. The sound you make when you’re thinking. The quiet where you try to hold back, and the little floods where you don’t.”
I pressed my fingertips to my mouth, listening, absorbing every word straight into my heart.
“I know you’re crying because I can hear you,” he said. “And I can’t hold you but I want to hold you. So much.”
“Me too. I need to feel you.” I curled hard around the phone, holding it tightly.
“I can’t hold you and be there for you, but I hear you. And I changed my mind; if you need to cry, go ahead. I’m listening. I’ll take anything you need to give. Anything and everything. I’m right here. You can give it to me. I can take it. I want to.”
His words unlocked something deep inside me. What I thought would be a tired little cry turned into a flood of tears, pouring into the phone. Fear for my father. For the farm that was already struggling. For gratitude that I was home, and for the longing to be with this man who was hundreds of miles away.
“Thank you,” I said, voice reduced to a croak.
“Try to get some sleep,” he said, his whispered voice thick now. “But call me if you can’t. I’ll stay up with you. As long as it takes.”
“Okay.”
A pause.
“Autumn?”
“I’m going now.”
“All right.”
Another silence, and then we laughed.
“For real this time. Good night, Connor.”
