Return To You - Leia Stone Page 0,7

She fully let go.

I was the idiot who kept hope alive.

Chapter 3

Autumn

I'm woken from my nap by a smell that's as odd as it is comforting. Following my nose into the kitchen, I find onions sizzling in a pan. I rarely cook in the city, and now that I'm smelling something so typical of my mom's cooking, I feel homesick despite the fact that I am already home.

My mom stands beside a cutting board, using what looks like all her strength to squeeze a clove of garlic through a press.

"Mom, let me," I say, hurrying forward when she grabs another clove.

She shoots a look of irritation at me but relinquishes the tool. "Two more after that one, then put it all in the pan."

I do as she says, stirring the mixture after I've followed her instructions. My mouth waters, and I realize I haven't eaten since the breakfast sandwich this morning. My redeye caught up with me and I slept through lunch.

Across the counter, I see two pounds of chicken and more vegetables. "You don't need to make a big dinner for me, Mom. I usually just eat a sandwich or some take-out noodles."

She makes a face. "They don't eat real meals in the big city?"

I stifle a sigh. "They do. You would've seen it firsthand had you accepted my invitations to visit." My words sound harsh, but they are delivered in a soft tone. I didn't come here to expose unhealed wounds.

"I had some things going on, Autumn. You know that."

I nod, staring down at the contents of the pan. But even when she got better, she never visited. Part of me thought it was her way of saying she didn’t agree with my decision to move across the entire country even though she begged me to follow my dreams.

"Turn that down, sweetie, or the garlic will burn."

I do as she says. The air in the kitchen is thick with hurt feelings. And my guilt. So much guilt. I should have moved back years ago, after her first diagnosis. What kind of asshole daughter just sends money to their sick mom and thinks that will fix things?

My head hangs with shame as my throat tightens with emotion. “I should have come back years ago,” I say almost to myself.

Mom's arms wrap around me from behind, resting her head on my shoulder. "Stop, honey. Don't beat yourself up. I'm the one who told you not to come home—"

I shake my head. "I shouldn't have listened to you."

"I'm your mother. I raised you to listen to me." She gives me her no-nonsense tone and I can’t help but grin.

"But you're not always right."

She pulls me spinning me around to face her. Her eyes are wide, surprised. "What? That's not true. Who told you that?"

I laugh and she pulls me closer, until my cheek is pressed to hers. "I should've come to visit you. I was wrong," she whispers.

I raise one eyebrow. "Can I get that in writing?"

I feel her chuckle, and when she pulls back, she keeps me in her arms. "No, you may not. And you'll never get me to admit to saying it, not even in a court of law."

I smile at her playfulness, and try not to show my surprise. Since when is my mom this lighthearted? Cancer has changed her.

"How was your appointment?" I ask, and at the same time the doorbell rings. "Are you expecting someone?"

Her eyebrows pull together. "Normally, yes. But not tonight. He told me he couldn't make it."

He?

I follow her out of the kitchen. "Mom, are you dating someone?"

Hell yeah, Mama, get some.

She ignores me, and I steel myself to meet this mystery man. Do I know him? Oh my gosh, what if he was my childhood principal or something weird?

As I’m preparing myself to meet my mom’s side piece, she opens the door and I swear everything in time freezes in place. The dust motes in the air, the leaves on the trees, the bees on the flowers, everything stands still.

It's him.

Time thaws.

All the air in my lungs escapes.

My body suddenly weighs less; the slightest breeze could carry me away.

"Hi, Faith," Owen says to my mother. His eyes steal over to me and he clears his throat. "Autumn."

His gaze sharpens as it rakes over my body and I suddenly feel like the universe hates me. My hair is in a messy cascade of curls all the way to my back from my nap and I’m wearing fucking sweatpants. My heart races, my