Page 58 of Savored Sins
But as I bend my head down to kiss her, my lips seeking hers, she jerks away. She fuckingpushesme. And I swear to god I’m so stunned I freeze. I don’t even have time yet to be embarrassed.
“Christ,” Autumn snaps, eyes blazing. “Don’t youevertake anything seriously? Or are you just like—incapable? Everything’s always fucking fun and games to you, isn’t it?”
A hot wave of embarrassment flashes through me. Clearly, physical comfort wasnotthe way to go here. But what else was I supposed todo? I don’t know how to handle this stuff. When it comes to emotional support, I’m freaking useless. Nothing Autumn said is wrong.
But I don’t know what to say to that, so I just give an exaggerated wince. Like she hit me right where it hurts—but in a funny way, you know? She doesn’t need to know how much her comment stings. I’ve got to keep on rolling.
“Sorry,” I say, raising my hands to show her I’m not trying to start anything. “Sorry—you’re right. Not the time.”
Autumn blows out her breath. She doesn’t look mad. She just looks… tired.
“Thanks,” is all she says.
But I’m still reeling. I’ve got to get out of here.
Leaving Autumn still standing near the mantel, the drawing of Lena still in her hand, I get to work packing up my shit. I’mnot really sure how I’m going to edit this pilot so there’s anending, but I’ll figure something out. Because I can’t stay here another minute—and I can tell things have changed between me and Autumn. Now that shit’s taken a turn, the footage I’ve got is all I’m going to have.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna head out,” I say. As I blow out the candles and fold up the spirit board, whispering to Lena that I’m sorry for the rushed goodbye, Autumn just watches me. When I move to the door, she follows, silent. “Thanks for letting me film. I’m glad Lena finally got her story out there. I’ll see you around.”
Autumn nods.
Not even waiting for a goodbye, I step outside, pull the front door shut behind me, and stride off down the path, cutting across the yard to the cabin. I know it’s stupid, but I feel so rejected. Sounwanted. I feel like I did when Maddie Carver said I was the reason my dad left.
At this moment, all I want is to go the fuck to bed.
So that’s what I do. I’m pretty sure I’ll feel back to myself in the morning—once I’ve shaken off the weirdness that was tonight.
twenty-eight
ZEKE
Phoebe: So that episode you did at the antique store… please tell me you sanitized that chair.
Zeke: Before or after?
Phoebe: BOTH
Benji: Oh god
Zeke: That’s my little secret
Will: Do I even want to know?
Benji: Do yourself a favor. Do NOT listen to episode #3.
Sleep did me good last night. In fact, although Autumn’s rejection is still nagging at the back of my mind, I’ve been able to forget about it for most of the day. As long as I stay moving, that is—which hasn’t been hard.
I had to go out to Hadley to record an episode for the podcast, and then it was on to Pelham to film some TikToks. Will can say what he wants about me not having a real job or whatever, but I’m staying pretty damn busy. And these sponsors haven’t dropped me yet—so suck on that, Carter Langley, with your smarmy LinkedIn messages that never fucking stop.
Just kidding. I don’t really mean that—not about Carter. He may be a sell out, but he’s a good dude. It’s nice he thinks of me, even if the job he wants to give me would put Charlie Brown’s goddamn teacher to sleep. Hard pass.
So now I’m sitting in Brewed Awakening with my laptop in front of me, poring over the footage from last night. I’m a natural on camera, but as I look through the clips I’ve got, I’m finding that Autumn isn’t half bad either. She’s hot, of course—which always helps—but even more, she went along with my efforts to amp up the drama. I mean, until we got to that bombshell Lena dropped—because after that, we didn’tneedmore drama.
The footage is perfect. It’s raw, honest, and completely real. I know the people who watch these shows can’treallytell the difference, but I’ve got to think that the realness comes across somehow. Like, maybe they can’t see the ghosts, but they’ll be able to sense from my demeanor thatIcan. At least, that’s the hope. That’s what’s going to win me this competition.
I mean, that and my good looks. No need to beat around the bush here.
As I take a sip of my coffee, I slump against the back of the booth, stretching my legs out under the table. I’ve been going hard at this stuff all day, and I think I’ve about reached my limit. A little TikTok break is in order, and then I’ll wrap up, finish my coffee, and head out.
