Chapter 4: Confessions in the Rain

Just then, a slow, rough voice sounded behind me. "Autumn."

I turned to see Nathaniel striding toward me, lips pressed tight, a storm brewing in his eyes.

"I went looking for you. The maid said you came to Monroe’s house."

"Oh," I replied flatly, eyes down.

His gaze darkened, staring at me hard. "Why did you come to see Jackson?"

I paused, then finally looked up. "Your ex, Marissa, set me up yesterday. Jackson helped me out. Should I have come to you instead, Mr. Rowe?"

He looked at me, a complicated expression on his face. "Do you have to talk to me like that?"

I was quiet for a long time. "That’s just how I talk."

He frowned.

I looked at him coldly. "I’ve always been spoiled, sharp-tongued, never letting things go. Isn’t that what you always said about me?"

My lashes trembled, my chest tight. Old memories flashed through my mind.

He’d once said something else, too. I couldn’t recall the exact details, but I remembered passing by the gazebo and seeing him playing chess with Marissa.

She noticed me, tucked her hair behind her ear, and whispered something to him.

I walked closer, and just then, Nathaniel’s deep voice drifted over.

"Autumn’s been spoiled since childhood—bossy, sharp-tongued, never thinking of others, lazy. No matter what, I’ll never like her."

Yeah, he’d said it. He’d never like me.

He seemed to remember, too. His eyes flashed, lips moving. "That time, I—I—"

He seemed to want to say a lot, but in the end, said nothing.

I looked at him with disappointment, crouched down to pick up the scattered cookies. "If there’s nothing else, I’ll go."

I waved the ruined box, deliberately saying, "I have to make a new batch for Jackson. He’s waiting for my homemade cookies."

I turned to leave, but Nathaniel suddenly grabbed my hand, pulling me into his arms.

The box crashed to the ground.

I tried to break free, but he held me tight, not letting go.

His warm, urgent breath fell on my face and ear. I was so startled I clung to him.

"I won’t allow it." His voice was cold, teeth clenched.

I froze, my heart pounding so hard it might burst.

I bit my lip, right on the cut from earlier, blood seeping out. The pain made my eyes water.

Suddenly, he lifted my chin, a shadow crossing his eyes.

He stared at my lips, his gaze complicated. "How did you get that cut? Was it Jackson?"

I looked up, confused.

When I didn’t answer, his eyes darkened, glancing at the box on the ground. Suddenly, his tone was icy.

"What did you two do? How did the box end up on the ground? Did—"

He stopped.

Staring at me.

"Did Jackson hold you like this, too?"

I was stunned.

Seriously? Who thinks like this?

Just then, the Monroe house door creaked open. Jackson stepped out.

Seeing us in an intimate pose, he raised an eyebrow but said nothing, walking past without a glance.

I noticed he’d changed clothes.

Suddenly, I heard Nathaniel’s heavy breathing. I turned to see his eyes tinged red.

"Tell me—"

He almost spat the words out, gritting his teeth.

"Why does Jackson have a cut on his lip, too?"

I looked up at his sharp features, his angry eyes. For a moment, I almost thought he liked me.

My breath caught, and I blurted out, "Someone must’ve bitten him."

Nathaniel’s broad shoulders stiffened, his face falling.

"Bitten? By someone?"

He stared at me for a long time, the air turning icy.

Coldly, he said, "Autumn, should I praise you for your sharp tongue? Hmm?"

Seeing his ugly expression, I realized what I’d just said and clenched my fists in frustration.

Of course he’d misunderstood.

I was about to explain, but his gaze darkened. He pulled me closer by the waist, pressing me tightly against him.

I gasped, feeling his burning chest against mine, his heat seeping into me like an electric current.

"You…"

Our eyes met. I bit my bleeding lip, oblivious to the pain, my throat dry.

The words "let go of me" got stuck in my throat.

Nathaniel was so close, eyes locked on me. His lips moved. "Bite me."

The room fell silent.

I thought I misheard. "What did you say?"

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He repeated, "I said, bite me."

I froze, hardly breathing.

What the hell?

I’ve never seen anyone so shameless!

"You’re crazy—"

"You can bite him, but not me?" He suddenly cupped my face, cutting me off, his voice tinged with hurt.

I lowered my eyes.

A strange anger welled up inside me, mixed with all kinds of feelings.

He’s always like this.

He says he doesn’t like me, but acts like he does, making me fall deeper.

My fingers twisted in my clothes, thoughts churning. Suddenly, a bad feeling crept in.

Was it because Marissa married the mayor’s son, and he knew he had no chance, so he settled for me?

Or was he using me to get back at her?

My heart trembled as I looked up at his dark eyes, feeling like an invisible hand was twisting my heart.

But Nathaniel seemed oblivious to my turmoil, still staring at me, repeating, "Bite me."

I felt suffocated, pain spreading through my chest.

Why?

Why did he assume that just because I liked him, I’d always be his?

Does he take everything for granted?

Yes, he knew I liked him. When Marissa married the mayor’s son, I confessed to him—with a painting.

As the town’s beauty, I couldn’t play music or recite poetry. Painting was my thing.

Though my parents made faces when they saw the portraits I did for them, I had confidence in my art.

I spent over two weeks painting Nathaniel’s portrait, wrote a love poem on it, folded it up, and had my best friend, Bree, deliver it to his house, making sure it got to him.

But it was like the letter vanished into thin air.

I asked Bree, and she swore she saw him open it, but said he didn’t look happy.

I was crushed. He must hate me that much.

Then, when Marissa married the mayor’s son, Nathaniel locked himself away, and when he finally came out, he looked at me with such complicated, wounded eyes, always mocking me.

I couldn’t understand it then, but maybe he was just hurt by Marissa and took it out on me.

That thought made me feel even worse, like I was just a scapegoat, a stand-in.

I glared at him, anger boiling up, and for once, I found the strength to push him away and turn to leave.

Shameless! Now he wanted to act like nothing happened?

But he was quick, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into his arms.

"Trying to leave? Going to find someone else?" He held my waist with one hand, my face with the other, forcing me to look up.

"Jackson? Was biting him not enough?"

His eyes were fierce, burning with anger. "Autumn, Jackson will never like someone like you. Give up already!"

My heart clenched. I stared at him in disbelief.

He seemed to regret it, his eyes flashing. "I—"

All my restraint crumbled. Anger and hurt washed over me.

Without thinking, I snapped, "Yes! I like Jackson! I’m going after him! If I don’t win him over, I won’t be called Sinclair!"

As soon as I finished, his aura turned deadly. He grabbed me and kissed me hard.

The kiss was rough and hot. I turned my head, gasping, but he forced me back and kissed me again.

I bit him, hard. He didn’t let go, even as blood trickled from both our lips.

Suddenly, a wave of bitterness stung my eyes, sadness spreading inside me, blurring my vision.

My heart ached.

I couldn’t hold back—I was about to cry.

I bit and kissed, over and over, until we both tasted bitterness.

But those weren’t my tears.

My pride had kept them in.

Wait—what?

Before I could react, Nathaniel pulled away, collapsing as if all his strength had left him. He turned away quickly.

From where I sat, I could only see the veins standing out behind his ear, and a single tear tracing down his sharply defined cheek.

His shoulders trembled, soft sobs piercing the silence.

Me: ???

I stared at him, completely at a loss.

Nathaniel had always been mature, steady, in control. Even his mom said he’d never cried, not even when his dad forced him to do football drills until he broke a bone.

But now… he was crying?

I reached out instinctively, but stopped short, my hand hovering in the air. "Nathaniel, you—"

His muffled voice came, as if from deep in his chest.

"There was that stablehand a year ago, and now Jackson. Autumn, you’re really something."

Me: ???

What stablehand?

"‘May I be as the stars, you as the moon, shining together every night.’ You wrote that for the stablehand, right?"

Me: ???

No! That was my love letter to him!

"You rejected me, then had Bree deliver that stablehand’s portrait to me. Did you ever think about how I felt? I’m human, too. I can hurt." His voice broke.

Me: ???

I never rejected him!

Wait, does he think the portrait was of the stablehand?

"What do I lack compared to them? Why do you look down on me so much?" His sobs shook his shoulders, his voice rough, like a wounded animal.

Me: ???

It’s not me who looks down on him—it’s him who looks down on me!

My thoughts were a tangled mess.

He slowly turned to face me, eyes red, pain, resentment, and helplessness all mixed together, his voice trembling.

"Autumn, isn’t it my turn now?"

His gaze made my heart ache. I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off, hoarse. "Forget it."

He stood stiffly, bitterness in his eyes, his words heavy as lead.

"If you really like Jackson now, what can I do?"

I panicked. "Nathaniel, don’t say that. Actually—"

"A.J."

He called my nickname softly, eyes searching mine, his voice barely above a whisper, full of hope and uncertainty.

"I’ve always wanted to call you that, but…"

I was stunned, speechless.

He lowered his eyes, hiding his feelings, but the bitterness in his voice was clear.

"You must’ve wondered why that stablehand suddenly left and never came back. You probably sent people to check, found out he was an orphan. This past year, you’ve treated me coldly, suspecting I did something to him out of jealousy, right?"

Me: ...

I didn’t!

"I never thought that!" I blurted out, afraid he’d misunderstand again. "You’d never do something like that!"

He paused, looking at me, as if a weight had lifted.

I relaxed, but then he said quietly, "I would."

"I would." He repeated.

I froze.

"Autumn…" His eyes darkened, his voice tense and soft.

"I love you."

The world went silent. My mind went blank.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out—only my pounding heartbeat.

"That’s why I can’t stand seeing you like someone else, can’t stand you painting for someone else, writing poems for someone else. My jealousy for that stablehand was so strong I wanted to fire him, lock you away so you’d only have eyes for me."

I was dazed, emotions swirling inside me, unable to speak, just staring at him.

He gazed back, then let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"But I can’t. Because I love you, I can’t hurt the people you care about."

The winter sun streamed through the branches, casting his shadow long and thin, tinged with sadness.

His words made my heart ache. I finally snapped out of it. "Nathaniel, it’s not like that, the stablehand—"

He cut me off. "Don’t worry, he’s fine."

"Who cares about him? I wanted to say—"

He interrupted again. "I gave him some land and money, enough for a lifetime, and told him to leave Maple Heights."

"You…" My throat felt tight, my heart bleeding.

That much money! What a spendthrift!

He saw my face fall, his eyes dimmed. "You still care that I sent him away…"

I was too angry to speak.

He hesitated, then finally said, "He wasn’t your true love."

I was about to lose it. "What does he have to do with me? I don’t even know him!"

The temperature seemed to drop.

The light caught his stunned expression, his lips trembling. "You… don’t know him?"

I nodded, relieved to clear up the misunderstanding, but saw his face turn pale, as if he might collapse.

Worried, I reached out to touch his hand—it was ice cold, making me stiffen.

I stared at him, about to ask, when he looked at me deeply and said in a low voice,

"So, after just a year, you’ve already forgotten him."

Me: ???

"Someone you loved so deeply, now forgotten so easily. Autumn, that’s just like you."

My mouth twitched.

Loved deeply?

He looked at me, eyes red, self-pitying. "I forgot—now you have Jackson. What does an old love matter to you? What do I matter?"

I was out of patience. "Jackson isn’t my new love—"

"It’s better this way." He seemed not to hear, his voice sinking. "There’s something I never told you, afraid you’d be hurt. The reason I sent the stablehand away is because—"

His eyes turned cold, his profile frosted over, as if it was hard to say.

"He likes men."

I blinked, hearing his fists crack. I realized he was upset on my behalf, for my "unrequited love."

My anger vanished, replaced by a strange feeling that spread through me.

I thought for a moment, then looked at him seriously, using a tone I’d never used before.

"Nathaniel, listen carefully: I, Autumn Sinclair, never liked that stablehand. The person in that painting wasn’t him!"

I grabbed his hand, watching his shocked eyes, my heart racing, my face hot. I rose on tiptoe, almost pressing my face to his, and whispered in his ear,

"Think about it. If it was a love letter, why would I have Bree give you the portrait?"

His pupils contracted, stunned.

I saw his dumbfounded look and couldn’t help smiling. The tension in my chest eased as I turned away, lips curving up, pretending to complain,

"So why didn’t you ask me back then? And because he liked men, you spent all that money sending him away…"

He opened his mouth. "I…"

I peeked at him. He looked embarrassed, finally realizing his mistake. His tone softened. "Besides, so what if he likes men? Everyone deserves happiness. Still, sending him away—"

"He tried to hit on me." Nathaniel cut me off.

????

My eyes went wide, the words "not good" stuck in my throat.

He looked at me, a bit awkward.

"That day, I wanted to see how he felt about you, but he acted clueless. I thought he was just pretending, so I turned to leave, and he suddenly grabbed my sleeve…"

He stopped.

I was stunned.

"After that, I sent him away." The room was silent, his low voice echoing.

I recovered, clapped my hands, and almost broke them. "Good job."

He heard my applause, his lashes fluttering, his slender fingers trembling. His voice was soft and hoarse. "So, the person in the painting was me?"

I met his gaze.

He was as elegant as ever, but now a bit nervous, his ears tinged pink, making his sharp features look softer—almost too good to be true.

My heart fluttered, the old restlessness returning.

He probably just wanted confirmation.

I didn’t answer directly, but asked,

"That painting… do you still have it?"

He looked surprised, then defeated. "I kept it."

I was surprised he kept it after all that.

He said quietly, "I locked myself in my room for half a month, staring at that painting every day."

My heart skipped a beat, eyes downcast.

So it wasn’t because Marissa married the mayor’s son, but because of me…

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, then looked up at him again.

Sunlight caught the fine hairs on his face, making the small brown mole below his eye stand out.

When we were kids, Marissa and I teased him about his "beauty mark." He always replied, serious but childish, "It’s not a beauty mark, it’s a handsome mark. Only handsome guys have it."

When I came of age, my mom teased me about which handsome man I’d marry. The first person I thought of was Nathaniel.

"So, what about the painting?" His low voice pulled me back.

I steadied myself, moved closer, and looked at the mole under his eye. "You stared at that painting for half a month. Didn’t you notice—the person in it has the same ‘handsome mark’?"

He stiffened, realization dawning, joy lighting up his eyes. "So that little mark under the eye was on purpose…"

I ducked my head in embarrassment. I usually painted landscapes and animals, so my first portrait was a bit off.

He stared at me for a long time, his bright eyes reflecting me.

My heart trembled.

He called softly, "A.J.!"

My face grew hot. That one call, full of affection, almost made my heart leap out of my chest. I buried my head.

"A.J.!" he called again.

I bit my lip, saying nothing.

"A.J.!" he tried again, his voice hoarse and low.

My heart fluttered, lips curving up as I finally answered, "Mm."