Page 21 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

AUTUMN

PHILOSOPHICAL SHIT

M anhattan, Kansas, was a small city an hour west of Topeka. Sprawling fields welcomed us as we pulled off the highway and hit city roads.

It was amazing what a good night of sleep did for a person.

I felt human again.

After nearly thirty-eight hours, thanks to a few pit stops and our overnight stay in Kansas City, I was home.

Technically, my family and Lisa lived in unincorporated territory outside of Manhattan, but we claimed the city as ours, since it was the closest landmark other than the fields.

Ryan’s hand was wrapped around mine as he pulled onto a tree-lined street. “You ready for this?”

“For more sleep? Yes,” I said as I stared out of the window and watched the passing houses.

Ryan looked comfortable today, in a pair of cloth shorts, slip-on shoes, and a T-shirt that had no business being as tight as it was. He was still wearing his glasses, and his tattoos were on full display.

He looked like an infuriatingly badass nerd. It was annoyingly hot.

“I meant if you’re ready to see everyone,” he said as his thumb stroked across the back of my hand.

Oh.

“Lisa’s at the funeral home this morning to work out the service arrangements,” I said as I swallowed the sand that coated my throat. “I told her I’d catch up with her tonight.”

“What about your family? Do you want to go see them or crash first?”

Honestly, I needed to sleep a little more before I saw my parents and sister. I loved them, but the fact that I hadn’t cut out Shep as easily as they did created a wedge between us.

“I’ll see them after I see Lisa so I can get the funeral details from her. I’m sure they’ll want to go, and that will keep Lisa from having to call them.”

Ryan nodded. “Rest it is.”

The car bumped and bobbed as he pulled onto a cracked cement driveway that led to a quaint yellow house.

“Home sweet home,” I said with a sigh. The little two-bedroom house was a welcome sight after endless hours of highway driving and gas station coffee.

Ryan put the car in park and studied the house. “I thought this was a rental, and that you weren’t going to see your family until later?”

I unlatched my seatbelt. “It is, and I am. This is just where I always stay when I come to visit.”

His brow knitted together. “You don’t stay with your family when you visit? I thought the rental was because I was coming with you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ford.” I opened the door and stretched. “I don’t like staying at my mom’s house. She can be . . . temperamental. I need space. The owner is a family friend, so she lets me book it without going through the rental site and gives me a great deal.”

Like I had summoned her, a rusted-out station wagon pulled in behind us.

“Perfect timing,” Beverly said as she eased out of the driver’s side. “I was hoping I’d get here before you. It’s good to see you, Autumn. Though I wish the circumstances were better. I’m so sorry to hear about Shep.”

I offered her a watery smile and a light hug as I met her in the driveway. “Thanks, Bev.”

She held up a shiny silver key that looked brand-spanking new and let out a sigh. “New keys. We’ve been working on the place for the last month. It’s still got a little way to go—oh hello. ” Her weathered eyes widened as Ryan appeared behind me.

I glanced at him, then turned back to Beverly. “Do I need to put down a pet deposit for this one? He followed me here from New York.”

She snickered. “I think it’ll be fine. He looks house-trained."

“He’s not,” I deadpanned.

“Just point me to my crate,” Ryan teased as he slipped his arm around my waist. “Although I’m a great bedmate."

I rolled my eyes.

Beverly laughed, but it turned to a sigh.

“That’s what I didn’t get a chance to tell you when you called to see if the house was available.

The last renters we had trashed the place.

Broken furniture and water damaged the floors.

Apparently, there was a kitchen fire at some point.

” She shook her head. “We’re almost done with it, but the second bedroom is still a construction zone.

It’s got paint, sawhorses, and tools in it.

We’ve still gotta paint, get new carpet down in there, and get a new bedroom set.

But the main bedroom and bathroom are good to go.

And they look real nice, if I do say so myself. ”

“That’s fine. We only need one bed,” Ryan said at the same time I shrieked, “ What?! ”

His arm tightened around my waist, shaking me out of the shock and shutting me up. “Thanks for getting this together on such short notice,” Ryan said as he shook Beverly’s hand. “I’m Autumn’s boyfriend, Ryan.”

The lie slipped off his tongue easily.

Beverly made eyes at me as she shook Ryan’s hand. “ Well done. ”

Just great.

Beverly handed over the new keys and waved us off before backing out of the driveway.

“What the hell was that?” I shouted as I spun on him, shooting daggers from my eyes.

“I was stopping you from freaking out on a little old lady. She seems nice.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I stared at him, utterly perplexed, as he grabbed two bags out of the car, made his way to the door, and let himself in.

Ryan fucking Ford . . .

I grabbed my one bag and headed inside. The house still smelled of fresh paint and lumber.

The layout was the same, but where old wallpaper had been, soft gray walls were now in their place.

The original wood floors had been replaced with vinyl planks.

The corner hutch was gone, and generic department store artwork now hung over a fake plant that came up to my waist.

Beverly’s rental was one of my favorite places to stay. The house used to drip with charm. Seeing it turned into yet another white and gray minimalist snoozefest was a knife to the heart.

Where were the doilies? The lace curtains? Where were the tchotchkes that were adorable but also kind of creepy? Where was the old roll-top desk that I always spent hours writing at?

I was grateful that she had worked so hard to get it ready for us to stay. Still, it was another memory stripped away.

Shep and Lisa had eaten at the old oak table with me. We had sat on the frilly couch with its curved back and talked for hours. We had taken pictures together in front of the red-brick fireplace with one of my books on its release day.

The fireplace had been painted white now, and the flooring was gray . . . just like everything else.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I pictured him there, all long legs, soft middle, and salt-and-pepper hair.

Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me in as I cried.

“Why don’t you rest for a little bit?” Ryan whispered into my hair.

I didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Hey, cupcake,” Ryan said, looking up from his laptop when I wandered into the kitchen.

I rubbed my eyes, warding the sleep away. “What time is it?”

“Three in the afternoon.”

I yawned. “Great. I’m not going to sleep tonight.”

Ryan chuckled and closed his laptop. “You’ll sleep.”

“Did you rest?”

He shook his head. “I had client calls to catch up on.”

“Right.” Because he had dropped everything to drive across the country with me. “What do you do on your client calls?”

He lazily thumbed through a small leather-bound journal. “Problem-solve.”

“Like . . .”

“Like, I’m a paid best friend. A professional listener.

A confidante. A sounding board. I’m not a therapist or a psychologist. I don’t claim to be.

People need a third party to talk through their problems who isn’t going to judge them.

I have a few women who are clients, but most of the people who ask for help are men.

With me, they know they’re not going to get some thirty-thousand-foot view of their relationship.

They’re going to get practical advice mixed with philosophical shit. ”

“Philosophical shit. How professional-sounding."

He cracked a smile. “Now you’re getting it.”

“So what happens when you fix a relationship? Isn’t that bad for business?” I asked.

Ryan pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“There are always going to be people who need help in relationships. My goal isn’t to keep them coming back.

My goal is to give them the tools to work through their issues, whether it’s communication or finances, or more practical things like sharing a domestic burden and teaching them about their partner’s mental load.

Word-of-mouth recommendations are better for business than keeping the same client trapped in a hamster wheel for years. ”

I blinked. “You’re a robot, aren’t you? A machine programmed to say all the right things?”

He chuckled. “Sadly, no.”

“Are you secretly a giant blue alien and you’re hiding in this body?” I circled my finger toward his chest.

Ryan’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Never mind.”

“You seem to be well rested,” he said as he stacked his things on top of each other, then slid them back into his backpack. “Good nap?”

I nodded as I stretched. “I feel almost human.” Before I could say anything else, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. “Sorry. It’s my mom,” I mumbled before answering. “Hello?”

“Are you in town?” Mom shouted over the din of the hair salon. “Bev just came by and said you’re here with a boyfriend? I called Amber to see if she knew something because you have a boyfriend? ” Her laugh of disbelief was insulting.

I glanced at Ryan. “It’s complicated. But yeah. A—uh—friend made the drive with me, so I didn’t have to be alone.”

“You love traveling alone. What’s different this time?” she yammered on as she smacked her gum.

I could almost smell the spearmint through the phone.

“I came for the funeral.”

Ryan looked at me curiously. Not that I blamed him. I shouldn’t have had to explain to my mother why I was here.

“Ryan was worried about me driving after the news.” Had she not heard? “You did hear that Shep died . . . right?"