and made a less selfish wish—there were plenty of other people who could use a little bit of magic. But if she was really going through with this, she needed all the help she could get. She’d even saved a silver dollar specially for the occasion. The coin lay against her sweaty palm. She stared down at the smooth surface of the water, trying to slow her heart and think of the right way to phrase the wish.
“You okay, Firefly?”
The childhood nickname pulled her back to the past, to the first time they’d stood here and the wish she’d made then. The casual stroke down her back kept her in the now.
“You know, when we were twelve and you brought me here that first time, I didn’t believe in wishes. Didn’t see the point. But you gave me a quarter and told me to make a wish anyway. For anything I wanted. Do you know what I wished for?”
“What?”
She lifted her gaze to his face. “I wished for a new family. And you gave me yours. I can never repay you for that.”
“We’re not keeping a balance sheet, Autumn. It’s not something you owe us for.”
No. That had been a gift without price. And if she did this. If she changed things, his friendship wasn’t the only thing she risked.
Be brave. Be like the strong heroines you write about.
Eyes on his, she fisted the silver dollar and made her wish. I wish for the courage and strength of heart to do what needs to be done, say what needs to be said.
She didn’t look as she tossed the coin. Didn’t even glance over at the solid thunk in the water. She could only watch him. For twenty-five years, he’d been her strength, her shield, her confidant. And she was about to see if he’d be more.
“Judd, there’s something I need to—”
“Autumn!”
The sound of her name had the words clogging like a logjam in her throat as she turned to see who had such craptastic timing.
“Mark?”
A history professor at Wachoxee County Community College, Mark Caulfield had been stopping in at the library once or twice a week for a couple of years. He was charming, erudite, and a little shy. Lanky, with a penchant for tweed—a less attractive Jude Law type. Livia had been making bets for months about when Mark would get up the nerve to ask Autumn out. He always seemed to stop just short of crossing the line from flirtation to action. Which was perfectly fine with Autumn. She enjoyed their flirtation, enjoyed the lack of pressure to actually commit to anything else. And here he was with flowers in his hand when she was about to confess her love to Judd.
Crap on a cracker.
“Good morning, lovely lady.” With a sheepish smile, he held a bouquet of bright yellow tulips out.
Autumn reached to take the flowers automatically, though a part of her instinctively recoiled. She couldn’t stop the flinch as her hand curled around the stems. “What’s this?”
“I saw these and they made me think of you. A little spot of sunshine. I went by the library to deliver them. Livia told me you were out shopping, so I took a chance that I could catch you.”
Autumn made a mental note to murder her friend. She forced a smile and focused on the gesture rather than the flowers themselves. There was no possible way Mark could’ve known she loathed yellow tulips. They’d been her mother’s favorite flower. “They’re lovely.”
She waited, watching splotches of color rise to Mark’s cheeks as he shifted from foot to foot. Please don’t let today be the day he finally asks.
Mark finally seemed to register Judd’s presence, which said a lot about the man’s focus on her, as Judd had been looming behind her like a guard dog since the moment Mark had shown up.
“Hi. Mark Caulfield.” He offered his hand.
Judd stepped forward to take it. “Judd Hamilton.”
“And you’re—”
“The best friend,” Judd supplied. His gaze swept Mark from head to toe and clearly found him lacking. Not that anyone who wasn’t well-versed in the microexpressions of Judd would notice.
“Ah,” Mark said.
The silence spun out. One beat, then two.
Ordinarily, Autumn would’ve jumped into the breach, tried to put Mark more at ease with the scripted niceties used by all women in the South. But she wanted—needed—him to go away. So she said nothing, employing the same tactics she knew Judd used in interrogation, hoping Mark would be so acutely uncomfortable, he’d lose his nerve.