Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 19570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Ryder has never needed to chase anyone.
He tells the truth—his version of it—and lets the rest fall where it may.
But Autumn wants more.
More answers. More control. More of the man he keeps locked behind silence and shadows.
She’s not asking anymore. She’s confronting.
And she doesn’t understand the dangerous storm she’s summoning...
Because the type of love she’s been longing for?
It’s already here.
But it comes at a cost
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
EPISODE 1
Autumn
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be approaching our destination,” the pilot’s voice filters through the cabin. “Please secure your personal belongings and buckle your seatbelts.”
I don’t move.
I can’t.
Outside the window, clouds break into blinding white, then into nothing. My fingers clamp the armrest, and my cheeks are wet, but I don’t remember when the tears started.
I’m the last person to deplane, and only because two flight attendants helped me to stand.
I grab my bag and walk down the jetway like I’m not inside my body. My legs move, but the rest of me—whatever’s left—is still back in Seattle. Or maybe it’s frozen midair somewhere over God knows what state.
Everything ahead of me blurs until I see her. A face I’ve known forever, torn apart just like mine.
“Autumnnnn.” My mother rushes toward me, flinging her arms around my shoulders. Her perfume—rosewater and rain—hits me so hard I almost fall apart in sobs.
“Oh, I’m so happy to see you. I can’t believe... I’m so sorry...”
“Me too.” It’s barely a whisper. It’s all I’ve got.
My dad wraps us both into a clumsy, too-tight hug. His voice drops like a stone: “We’ve been looking forward to seeing you again, Autumn.”
Just like that, years of silence fall away. Or pretend to.
When we finally break apart, a desk agent wordlessly hands us a box of Kleenex and we head for the exit.
Outside, Buffalo slaps me in the face with its special flavor of winter: wind sharp enough to slit skin, diesel and street salt soaking the air, and a sky the color of poured concrete.
My mom slides into the backseat beside me as my dad starts the car. Her hand folds over mine, and her grip tightens with every mile, like I might shatter if she lets go.
Still on edge, I stare into the rearview mirror every time my dad makes a turn.
I’m waiting to catch a glimpse of black SUVs, suspicious shadows, or men in suits with secrets in their eyes.
There’s nothing.
Only slush-streaked roads and a deafening quiet.
Still, something crawls under my skin, and I can’t help but feel like I brought ghosts home with me.
When we pull into the driveway, I can’t help but notice that the house hasn’t changed.
It’s still a weathered colonial with chipped shutters and a porch that creaks when stepped on too hard. It sits on a quiet street lined with bare maple trees and mailbox flags that never quite latch. Everything is exactly as I remember it—stubborn in the way only childhood places can be.
My mom gets out first and opens my door.
“Dare I ask,” she says, brushing snow off my shoulder, “are you crying because of ending things with Nate?”
“No.” I pause. “I ended things with him a while ago. We’re divorced.”
“What?” Her eyes sharpen.
“Divorced.” I say it again. Flat. Final. “It was finalized a while ago.”
They exchange a look I’ve seen before. One I don’t want to decode right now.
I don’t ask. I don’t care.
“I can’t pretend to be upright another second.” I’m on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s get you upstairs.” Her hand presses gently against the small of my back.
I let her lead me.
When we reach my former bedroom, I stop cold in the doorway.
They’ve put it back. Everything.
Same twin bed. Same corkboard, empty but still bleeding pinholes. Same floral curtains I once swore I’d tear down the day I turned eighteen.
It looks like it’s been waiting for me. Like the girl I used to be is still in here, hugging a diary to her chest. Still stupid enough to think she could outrun fate on a one-way ticket.
“We’ll be ready to listen when you’re ready,” my mom says softly.
I nod.
She shuts the door behind her with a gentle click.
I fall face-first into the bed. The sheets smell like dust and detergent and time I’ll never get back.
And then I break.
Not out loud. Just quietly enough that the tears pool in the pillow and the sobs fold in on themselves—small, contained, like they’re afraid of being heard.
They don’t stop. They don’t slow.
They just keep blurring everything until sleep drags me under like an undertow.
Later…
A soft buzz trembles against the mattress.
I roll over, bleary-eyed, and my heart stutters when I see who it is.
Ryder.
For a moment, I’m tempted to open it—to see what he could possibly have to say. But our last argument still rubs my heart raw in all the wrong places, and I can’t trust that voice anymore. Not when it’s cost me this much.
I hit ignore and set the phone face-down on the nightstand.
It rings again.
Him. Again.
It keeps ringing. Again. And again. Until silence finally settles.
I flip the phone over and open my inbox.
Ryder…
Please leave me alone.
I promise to do the same for you.
I’m about to shut it off when one last message appears on the screen:
Ryder
I’ll never make a promise I can’t keep.