𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣; 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤

Autumn

I've always believed in happy endings. Fairy tales, to me, are always bound to come true. The princess gets a happy life, gets to ride off into the sunset, and lives happily ever after.

When I was little, Dad brought me a piano, a small Yamaha keyboard, with keys big enough for my little fingers. It was sleek, it was beautiful, and I loved it so much.

Then one day, my dad took it away from me for no reason. I was about twelve years old and didn't understand the meaning of what would turn out to be another one of his "lessons". When I cried, he looked at me and said, "Don't believe in happy endings, Autumn. Life will screw you over so many times that the best you can hope for is a decent ending to your song." He gave it back to me, and we moved on.

It was almost like it never even happened. Since that day, I've held firm to the belief that happy endings do exist. It's the only thing I can hold on to.

My dad is a famous country singer. He's traveled all over the world, been inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame, played at the Opry. Everything fell into Daniel Lee Henningsen's lap.

I wanted to be just like him one day.

Spotted: Daniel Lee Henningsen Out on the Bustling Streets of NYC, Another Woman on His Arm. Uh-Oh, Mrs. Henningsen. Looks Like Trouble in Paradise.

I close the three year old article and throw my phone across the field. 

Sometimes, it's better to be your own person. That way, you won't be let down by the people who are supposed to know you, to take care of you. My parents weren't happy, yes, but they weren't supposed to leave fourteen year old me and twenty three year old Emery to take care of ourselves.

That's not how the story is supposed to go.

I sigh, and stand up, feeling the scratchy stems of wheat against my bare feet. The rising sun paints orange and purple streaks across the sky, and it bathes my face in a golden light. Guitar and songbook in hand, I head back towards the house, leaves crunching under my toes. My short red hair blows gently in the early morning breeze, as I walk up to the back of our house and open the screen door.

"Em! I'm back!" I call. Emery walks into the kitchen, heels clicking on the tile floor.

"Just in time, too," Emery answers, getting a salad kit out of the fridge, "I was going to leave you locked out."

"You know you wouldn't do that." I kiss her on the cheek and grab a milk from the fridge.

"Seriously, Autumn, can you at least try to make it back at a reasonable time?" Emery checks her reflection in the microwave glass, and grabs her bag from the coattrack by our door. "You're going to get me fired one of these days."

"Your boss loves you."

"But that wouldn't stop him. He's fired people for worse." Emery comes up behind me and touches my shoulder, her way of saying goodbye. "Don't get arrested."

"I won't."

She waves goodbye and leaves, locking the front door behind her.

Emery was twenty-three, about to become a Yale graduate when Dad forced her to come home to take the position of my legal guardian. He didn't want to do it, and neither did mom. Emery was a straight A student, bright and bubbly, with a promising future ahead of her. She wanted so many things, and she was so close to getting them.

I can't help but feel guilty for all that she's lost. 

I finish up my breakfast, putting my dirty bowls in the sink. Crickets hum their end of summer tune and I hum along with them. The air inside our small townhouse is sticky and warm, hot with end of summer heat. I absentmindedly rub the crystal pendant at the base of my neck, and open the screen door again, grabbing the neck of my guitar. 

"Autumn!" My best friend, Faye calls, running up to me. "What're you doing?" She stops in front of me, face shiny with sweat, bright pink hair slipping out of its low ponytail. 

"I was going to-"

Faye groans, "Don't tell me. You're going out to the field again." 

Faye and I are total opposites. Faye is an extrovert, a huge gossip, and friends with practically everybody. I'm sarcastic, introverted, and I have no friends. Faye is dramatic, bright pink hair reflecting her bubbly personality, and I'm shy, refusing to talk to people who I know will mock me. 

"I need to write this song, Faye." I push past her, walking down my stone pathway towards the gap in my fence, big enough for me to slide through.

"But do you need to write it now? I haven't seen you in forever," Faye whines, following me. 

I've been spending all of my time in the wheat field just beyond the fence of our small, closed in backyard. It's peaceful there, bugs and all. I bring my guitar and my old, silver songbook, and I sit there for hours, trying to write. 

When I was fourteen, I loved to write songs. I would sit on my polka dot beanbag chair and write for hours. I thought I had a future of being a songwriter one day.

I had believed a lot of things when I was younger.

"Faye, you know that I need to do this." I say, turning back to her.

"Exactly. And you can. After we hang out." Faye sings, taking my hands.

"I-"

"Please?" Faye begs, "We can head in town and go to Friendly's. I know you love their chicken and waffles." She shakes my hands and I smile, laughing. "Is that a yes?"

"Fine," I drop her hands, "I need to change." I laugh, looking down at my sweat stained shorts. 

"Don't take too long," Faye smirks, "All the cute guys will be taken." That's another thing about Faye: she's boy crazy. 

Gullwitch Cove isn't a large town, with the population barely reaching two thousand, but it's packed full with hot country boys, single country boys, and the occasional punk rocker. It's boyfriend paradise for Faye, while I couldn't care less.

This town does have other charms though. The scenery is nice, the peace is so different from our previous home in Nashville. It's quieter here. Songwriters and singers often frequent Gullwitch Cover, hiding in plain sight. Nobody wants to visit a sleepy town in rural Louisiana.

The press haven't tracked down Emery and I yet. I guess that's another good sign.

"I'll only be a minute, Faye." I say, shutting the screen door gently behind me.

"Isn't this exciting?" Faye says, taking my arm. "You're not hiding out in nature the entire day. You're out among the people, wheat-free, and with your best friend. What could be better?" 

"Nothing, Faye. You were right." I say. We're walking down Main Street, about a block away from Friendly's. The streets are empty, people most likely inside preparing for school tomorrow. 

Gullwitch Cove is every cute, small, picture perfect town that you see in all of the travel magazines. The Main Street is small, filled with every shop imaginable, and is home to one of my favorite resteraunts.

I open the door to Friendly's, and Faye walks in after me. The shop bell jingles, and a leather clad boy looks up from the red and white striped corner booth.

A waitress leads us to a checkered table in the center of the restaurant. "What do you want?"

"Chicken and waffles, please."

"A ribeye sandwich." The lady leaves, and Faye turns back to me, "Oh my god." She notices the boy sitting behind me, and her face goes white.

"Faye, it's rude to point," I hiss, pushing her hand back down. "But what is it?"

"It can't be," She whispers, "He went on tour."

"Faye." I push at her hand again. "Who is it?"

"Harley Davis is back in town." She whispers again.

"Who the hell is Harley Davis?" I say out loud, but she clamps her hands over my mouth.

"Nobody. He-" 

"Faye Woods. In the flesh." I turn, startled. The boy from behind me walks up behind us and, motions for me to slide over. I slide over, annoyed. "I'm surprised to see you here." The boy says, sitting down and looking right at Faye.

"Hi Harley." Faye mumbles, at a loss for words.

I automatically know that I hate him. The way he walks, the swagger in his stance, the fact that he can silence normally bubbly Faye with one word.

"So, Harley," I say, popping a french fry in my mouth, "I don't think we've met. I'm Autumn."

"Harley. Harley Davis." The look he gives me is so searching that I start to squirm in my seat.

"Harley, what're you doing back here?" Faye recovers, staring directly into his sky blue eyes.

He laughs, running a finger through his raven colored hair. "Problems with our tour vehicle."

"Oh, you mean Jim Bean's bus?" Faye turns to me, tying her pink hair into a braid. "Harley's in a band. The best on this side of Louisiana."

"Oh, Faye, you're too kind." Harley's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but he grabs Faye's hand.

"So, how do you two know each other?" I say, looking at each of them.

"We've been going to school together since we were four." Faye says.

"Yup," Harley looks back at me, eyes condescending, "She's my best friend."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, Faye, it's been fun, but I should be going." Harley looks at the bright sky, shining and turning his eyes into pure crystal. "I've got lots to do before school tomorrow."

"You're coming back?" Faye says, picking at her cold sandwich.

When Harley responds, he stares right at me. "Yup. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Harley." Faye turns around, waving at him.

"Faye." He walks towards the door, but looks back at us.

"See you later, Autumn." He smirks and walks out the door.

I watch him get on his motorcycle and ride away.