“Harder! Faster!" Autumn screamed as she yanked on Christian's long hair and tried to pull his mouth to hers. She squeezed her legs tightly around his waist and locked her ankles.

"Shut up, Autumn," Christian said in a threatening whisper. "Daisy is gonna think something's wrong and come looking for you."

"I don't care," she yelled. "Harder, Christian!"

Christian immediately lifted himself up, reaching behind him and squeezing her ankle hard enough to force her to release him. "You are one stupid loud bitch, you know that?" he said before ripping off the condom and tossing it on the floor. He stood up and stepped into his jeans, pulling them up.

"You didn't think that when I tutored you over spring break," she said in outrage. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have graduated."

"So what? You want an award or something?" he asked without looking over at her. He buckled his belt and headed for the bedroom door. He turned around to look at her.

Autumn was a nice-looking girl. Not beautiful, but pretty in a wholesome girl-next-door kind of way. She’d been a transfer student last year, and she’d honed in on Christian almost immediately. When she discovered that she lived in the same neighborhood as him, she'd shown up one day uninvited and introduced herself to Christy. And she was more than happy to offer babysitting services for Daisy.

"I just think you could be a little nicer, Christian. I gave you my virginity. You could at least act like I mean more to you than just a lay. You've only taken me out twice, and you don't even introduce me as your girlfriend," she whined. Her face was getting red as she scooted off his bed and started to get dressed. "And you don't take your time with me. It's all about you getting off."

"I told you from the start, Autumn. You are just a lay. I don't want a girlfriend, and you knew that from day one. And fucking yeah, it's about me getting off. Why would you think it's something more? My mother is paying you to look after Daisy and I know you left her in the den watching TV. Get out of my room and take care of my little sister. You're supposed to be playing with her. Not plopping her down in front of a television set."

"You didn't seem to care about your little sister when you were screwing me!" she yelled, her voice beginning to rise.

"I didn't come looking for you," he said, his hand on the doorknob. "You heard me pull up on my motorcycle, took off your clothes, and jumped in my bed before I even came inside the house. You wanted to get screwed. I screwed you. Now get out."

He waited until she was dressed before he yanked open the door. She held her head up proudly as she started to walk past him. She stopped and turned to look at him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pushed herself against his body and cooed, "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry. You're right. You were up front with me since the beginning. I guess I'm upset that I didn't get to come. Let me make it up to you."

She tried to kiss him, but he turned his face. He roughly grabbed her by her wrists, disengaging them from around his neck and said, "No, thanks, Autumn. This has gone on longer than it should have. Don't let me find you in my bed again. Ever."

She started to object, but he firmly removed her from his room and kicked the door shut, immediately locking it. He went to his stereo and blasted his music. He dug around in his dresser until he found the hand lotion he kept stashed. He lay back on his bed and unzipped his jeans. Autumn wasn't the only one who didn't get to come. He closed his eyes and fantasized about an innocent stare from smoldering brown eyes and remembered her last words. "No. It's not too late, Christian. Trust me."

Autumn had tried everything, even giving Christian her virginity. She smiled when she remembered their first time together. She was certain that he would be rough, but she was surprised at his gentleness. Unfortunately, she misread his tenderness and respect for her first time as feelings for her. He was just being nice then, and she had wanted it to be something so much more than sex. He hadn't taken her on official dates. Not even close. She manipulated it so that it seemed that way, but he hadn't asked her out. Their relationship, or rather lack of one, had been totally fabricated in her own mind. She even tried to make him jealous by sleeping with his best friend, Dustin. That had backfired. Christian didn't care. He even told her he was happy for her.

She took a deep breath and headed back to the den. She suddenly felt the need to distance herself from the house—from Christian—even if just for a short time.

"Daisy, want to walk out to the mailbox with me?" Daisy was almost seven years old and a sweet little girl. Autumn's original intentions hadn't exactly been honorable. She only offered to babysit as a way to get herself immersed in their household. And it had worked. She was certain Mrs. Bear thought of her like a daughter, not just the girl who occasionally stayed with Daisy.

"C'mon," she said, holding out her hand. Daisy jumped off the couch and took it. The Bears lived in a residential neighborhood that offered the homeowners a little more space than most developments. Mr. Bear owned a landscaping company, so their property housed a huge, separate garage, and the house was set back from the road quite a distance. They walked down the long driveway to the mailbox hand in hand.

After returning to the house, Autumn started to toss the mail on the kitchen table when she noticed a letter addressed to Christian. Daisy was busy pulling a chair up to the counter to reach the cookie jar. Autumn took the opportunity to snatch the envelope and shove it in her bag which was hanging on a hook by the kitchen door.

Christian never left his room, and when Mrs. Bear offered to drive her home, Autumn told her she'd rather walk. And she meant it. It would give her time to blow off some of the steam from Christian's rejection and harsh words. She didn't like being ignored. She didn't like being treated like a used-up whore.

She was very curious about the letter addressed to Christian. The need to read it fueled her and she made it home in record time. Letting herself in and ignoring her mother's greeting, she headed straight for her room and locked the door behind her. Kicking off her shoes, she jumped on the bed and pulled the letter out of her bag. She noted the pretty handwriting, obviously female. There was no return address, and the postmark was from some town she didn't recognize in Ohio. She carefully opened it.

Dear Christian,

I guess this will be the last letter you'll be getting from me. I don't know why I'm even bothering since you never replied to the first three. I have two theories. One, I've made a total fool of myself by telling you how I felt. That maybe I read more into our last time together, and these letters are just a nuisance, and you don't want to stay in touch with me. The other theory is that you aren't getting my letters because they're being intercepted by your parents. If this is the case, I'll respectfully ask Aunt Christy or Uncle Anthony to please not do this. If you are getting these letters and not giving them to Christian, please reconsider what you're doing. You might think it's for our own good, but you're wrong.

My mother had the babies. She swore she was the only woman in history that ran well past her due date while carrying twins. We all told her that we think the doctor may have miscalculated. It's probably a combination of both. Anyway, they are beautiful and healthy, and my mom is glowing. She's a little more tired than usual, but it barely shows. She had a boy and a girl. Their names are Dillon and Ruth. They have turned our lives upside down—in a good way.

I feel kind of stupid. Especially since I don't know if you'll even read this. I still check the email address I gave you as often as I can, but I'm wondering if maybe you're just not an email kind of guy. If that's the case, I want to give you a chance to write me a letter. You don't have to worry about it being intercepted on my end. I can guarantee that won't happen. The name and address may seem off, but I promise it'll get to me. Don't put your return address on it.

Ariel Lipman

1322 E. Highland Drive

San Diego, CA 15012

If I don't hear from you, I'll take that as a sign that one of my two thoughts about why you haven't replied to my other letters is true and I won't bother you again. I promise.

I miss you, Christian. I know it doesn't seem like I should since we hardly spent any time together since we were children. Maybe I just miss what my heart thought it saw, or wanted to see, in your eyes that night.

Love,

Mimi

Autumn read the letter three times before she neatly folded it and placed it back in the envelope. She looked up when she heard a motorcycle—it was Christian whizzing by on his Harley. She sprang from her bed, and quickly walked to her window craning her neck to see him round the corner and disappear.

So, Christian had a girl in his life. A girl named Mimi who had moved away and was trying to reconnect with him. One thing was obvious. Mimi was smart. The letter was postmarked in Ohio, yet she provided a California address. The girl was going to extremes to get in touch with Christian without revealing where she lived. Had he received the letters and was ignoring her or was it the other possibility Mimi had suggested? That Christian's parents were intercepting them? Autumn wouldn't know why they would do that, but if that was happening, they probably had their reasons. It didn't matter, though. She thought that Mimi deserved a response, and Autumn decided it was her job to give her one. She had no way of knowing if this Mimi person would recognize Christian's handwriting, but Autumn had tutored him enough to know that she could come pretty close to emulating it. She went to her desk and pulled out a piece of notebook paper. After all, Christian certainly wouldn't be the type of guy to use fancy stationery.

I chewed the inside of my cheek raw while I listened as Christian briefly described a girl who used to babysit for Daisy to be around him.

“I can’t remember once asking her to bring in the mail, but I know that there were a few times I found it piled on the kitchen table. Up until now, I’d always assumed someone in the family brought it in.” Aunt Christy blew out a long breath and ran a frustrated hand through her short blond hair.

"Who could've thought that something so hateful could've resulted from you rejecting a girl?" I exclaimed, nodding toward the letter Aunt Christy was tightly clutching between her fingers. "She must've really had a thing for you," I said to Christian’s profile.

Aunt Christy started to say something when there was a light rap at the door and my mother poked her head in.

"I'm sorry for interrupting." She turned her head toward Christian and said, "Your father wants to speak with you. Should I tell him you'll be down soon or..."

I looked at Aunt Christy and watched as she discreetly folded the letter without my mother noticing. Apparently, we’d just made a silent pact that my family didn't need to be privy to our conversation. Christian’s expression revealed he concurred. The past was in the past and needed to stay there. I was relieved and felt a wave of love rush over me when I recognized the look on my mother's face. She was feeling left out. She didn't belong outside with the testosterone turkey brigade, and she hadn't been invited upstairs for our private talk. Christian looked like he had more to say when I interjected.

"It's okay, Mom. I think we're done here." I inhaled deeply and the scent of the vanilla bean sachets I kept hidden around my room were oddly comforting. At that moment they felt like lungfuls of happiness.

I hadn't meant to cut our discussion short, but in my mind there was nothing more to be said. Autumn had been a vindictive teenager, and as soon as I got Christian alone I would make sure he knew I didn't want to start our marriage off with him exacting his revenge on her.

Before leaving us, Christian grabbed me softly by my upper arms and looked down into my eyes. "I want to talk more about this later. When we're alone. All right?"

"Is everything okay?" I detected the sincere concern in my mother’s voice. She may not have been ready to give her blessing for our relationship, but she was a nurturer at heart.

"It's all good." I nodded at Christian, and repeated, "All good." I smiled and waved him off as my mother stepped into the room as Christian left.

"I guess it's not something I need to know about?" she asked.

"It's not a big deal, Mom. And it's not important anymore. We're all good."

She looked relieved. "I thought maybe you were conspiring to elope or something. You never did make that announcement you promised after you talked to Christian about deciding to wait until fall. You did talk to him, right?"

I didn't get a chance to reply when Aunt Christy said, "No conspiracy here, Ginny. And fall is just as good as summer. It'll be wonderful to have us all together. Especially Abby. She should be part of Mimi and Christian's wedding day. Slade, Daisy, Jason, and the twins, too!"

It was an odd statement, but I thought I caught her drift. I grabbed Aunt Christy's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm sure your daughter—" I paused to clarify in case my mother hadn't known or didn’t remember, "and Christian's half sister, Abby, will be with us. Like my father, Tommy. They'll both be with us in Spirit."

My mother looked confused. And Aunt Christy, realizing a split second too late that I hadn't known the truth behind the name Abby tattooed on Christian's arm, blurted out, "Not that Abby."

The light behind her eyes started to wane when she recognized her faux pas, but it was already too late to turn back from the truth.

In an almost apologetic voice she said, "I'm talking about Abby, Christian's daughter."