Chapter Eleven
Brady
The neon lights of the toy store were harsh, bouncing off walls of primary colors, plastic noise everywhere, and aisles packed with color and movement.
An upbeat pop song piped through the ceiling speakers, setting a frantic, cheerful rhythm that was entirely at odds with the woman walking beside me.
Elise looked around, her gaze moving over a display of plush animals as if running a threat assessment on them. “I can’t remember the last time I was in a toy store,” she admitted, sounding genuinely overwhelmed.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to play it cool. “Neither can I,” I joked. “Okay, maybe I indulge in them now and then. But only to buy toys for my friends’ children.”
She paused, shooting me a skeptical, teasing look from the corner of her eye. “Sure, sure.”
I liked how relaxed she looked as she played along.
We turned down the next aisle, leaving the plush animals behind for rows of wooden puzzles and educational kits. I was watching her profile, the way the overhead lights caught in her hair, when she stopped.
She reached out and picked up a polished wooden kaleidoscope. I expected a dry comment about optical engineering. Instead, the light in her eyes went out. The shift was instant.
That instinct Bella always teased me about kicked in. I stepped closer, closing the distance, lowering my voice. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
Elise blinked, her grip tightening on the wooden cylinder. “My mother bought this for me a long time ago. I’d forgotten.”
I studied her, careful. “I’m sorry. Did she pass away?”
Elise set the kaleidoscope back with a precise, controlled movement. When she looked at me again, her expression was flat. Guarded.
“No,” she said. “She divorced us. All of us.”
That landed.
Of course she kept people at a distance. Of course she expected them to leave.
I didn’t offer pity because it wasn’t what I would have wanted.
I did think it was sad, though, that her mother hadn’t made an effort to remain in her life.
Watching my parents divorce had been devastating.
I didn’t want to imagine how I would have handled it if one of them had cut ties with me.
My parents were far from perfect, but then, so was I.
She cleared her throat before asking, “What about your family?”
I didn’t hesitate. “My parents divorced too. I was young.” I leaned against the shelving, keeping it easy. “It was messy for a while, but now they’re . . . odd together.”
“Odd how?”
“My mom lives her life, peaceful, outside of the drama. But she’s still the first person my father calls when something goes wrong with one of us. Then she calls us and smooths it out.”
Elise’s gaze dropped back to the toys. “As far as I know, my parents don’t talk,” she said quietly. “But at least they don’t argue anymore.”
“I understand that.”
Silence settled between us.
I watched her shoulders square in a subtle tightening I was starting to recognize.
She was done.
So I gave her an out.
Bumping my shoulder lightly against hers, I reached out and grabbed the most obnoxious, massive neon-green water blaster on the shelf.
“Question,” I said, holding it up like a trophy.
“Do you think Sam’s mom would murder us if we bought him this?
Because the tank-capacity-to-pressure ratio looks impressive. ”
Elise stared at the neon gun, then at me. A beat passed before she finally rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I didn’t have being murdered on my bingo card for our second date, so perhaps you should put it back.”
“You play bingo too? I love that game,” I said, grinning as I returned it to the shelf.
She tipped her head to the side, then laughed. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”
“About the mom’s potential propensity for murder or about enjoying bingo?”
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Neither? Both? I’m trying to, but I don’t fully understand you yet.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I murmured, my voice lowering.
Her lashes swept down to conceal her eyes, before I swear they fluttered at me. “So far no.”
“Well, then I’m doing something right.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I wondered if I’d pushed a little too hard.
She stepped back and looked around like someone who was used to being hyper aware of her surroundings but had temporarily forgotten to be.
I mentally kicked myself for getting cocky when she was still unsure of herself.
I decided to switch back to a safer subject.
“I should be more careful. I once bought a beginner drum set for Mr. Torres’s grandchild.
I didn’t get a friendly look from that family for three weeks. ”
“Who is Mr. Torres?”
“He owns a garage back in Firebrook Valley and let me hang around when I was younger. Very kind man with more patience than I’ve ever had.”
Elise studied me. “And that’s where you learned to fix cars?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My shoulders rose and fell while I chose how to explain something my family still couldn’t understand about me.
“Mr. Torres is a quiet man. Solid. Hardworking. Practical. Not really good with money, but good with people. And there wasn’t a vehicle he couldn’t fix.
His confidence was . . . steady no matter how challenging the job was. I wanted to learn how to be like that.”
“And did you?”
“Yes and no.” I met her gaze. “He taught me a lot about myself by letting me try, fail, and try again. No judgment, simply the expectation that with persistence I would succeed.” I inhaled deeply. “He taught me to trust the process.”
Her arm brushed mine again as we moved down the aisle, and neither of us pulled away. The contact felt warm, deliberate, like a statement she wasn’t yet ready to make.
“Alright,” she said, a small smile forming. “Since you’re the expert birthday gift buyer, choose something.”
I reached past her but stopped just before making contact with the boxed toy. My arm hovered above her and I stepped closer.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “I thought you said no guns.”
I tapped the box. “It flips. And it’s a car. The blaster is a secondary feature.”
She laughed and I’m not sure if she leaned back or I leaned forward, or perhaps we’d met in the middle, but for one long, excruciatingly good moment her back leaned into my chest. It was nearly impossible to remember why we were there.
It was just her, the green apple scent of her shampoo, and her long, kissable looking neck. “It’s not a practical choice.”
I bent toward her neck until she overwhelmed my senses and nearly all the blood in the upper half of my body headed south where it thought it was most needed. “Some of the best decisions I’ve made have seemed impractical in the beginning.”
She stiffened. “That’s definitely not my motto.”
Gently, I swept some of her hair off her neck, exposing more of it to my already hungry gaze. “Really, then tell me which one you go by.”
She didn’t look at me, but she also didn’t move away. “Trust no one.”
“No one?” I pressed back. “Sounds unsustainable.”
Her chin rose.
I continued, “And lonely.”
She made a sound in her throat, almost as if she were fighting against saying something. “Sometimes.” She glanced back at me. “But it’s better than blindly trusting everyone.”
“Is that what you think I do?” I wasn’t offended, but I was a little disappointed that she was diminishing me the way my family did.
Slowly she turned in my arms. So close our breath mingled. “No. Honestly, I don’t know why you do what you do, and that’s part of why I agreed to today.”
The yearning in her eyes tugged at my heart. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and hug away her sadness, but life didn’t work that way. “I’m glad you did.”
We stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, in the world together but on our own at the same time. “Me too,” she said quietly.
A small child pushed between us on a wild escape from his father who was attempting to chase him down while navigating the space with a baby in a stroller. The father apologized as he also burst between us. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” I said automatically.
Elise was all big-eyes. Troubled. Confused. Slightly cornered.
I said, “Elise?”
“Yes?”
“Could you grab the large green flipping car behind you? Sam will love it.”