5. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Brady whipped out his cell phone so fast, it was like this had been his plan all along.
He called the local pizzeria, rattling off an order so familiar it felt like a punch to the gut—pepperoni and olive pizza and homemade cinnamon sticks. All my favorites.
Why did he have to remember?
Maybe the better question was: why couldn’t I forget?
“Please deliver it to the Eaton’s place,” I heard him say. Then a pause. “Yes, I said the Eaton’s place.”
I cringed.
Nothing had changed.
The owners were probably on the phone with his parents already, letting them know their son was at the enemy’s doorstep—with their granddaughter. It wouldn’t surprise me if Mr. and Mr. Jackson called Brady to insist he bring Caroline home.
I glanced at Brady. His smile said everything was okay.
But it wasn’t.
By tomorrow, the whole town would know I was back. And already breaking the rules.
But I wasn’t about to disappoint Caroline. And once Aunt Lu was well, I’d be leaving Kaysville.
Hopefully, for good this time.
Maybe my heart would finally get the memo and leave it behind, too.
I took Caroline to the foyer and showed her the blue and orange ornaments for the Auburn tree.
She lit up with excitement. She looked around, wide-eyed. “Is this the floor in your books where Aunt Calliope and Jane slide?”
“Uh-huh,” I said with a smile. “Do you want to try?”
She kicked off her shoes without hesitation.
I grabbed her tiny hand, and together we ran and slid across the marble—just like Aunt Lu and I used to do when I was her age.
She erupted in giggles as we skidded to a stop.
“Again!” she cried, already spinning back around.
We slid again—laughing, breathless—straight into Brady, who’d come into the foyer at just the wrong moment.
While I grabbed onto Caroline, shielding her from the marble floor, Brady caught me.
Strong arms around my waist. Secure. Familiar. Too familiar.
A warm, fuzzy wave swept through me.
He held me close and tugged gently on a strand of my hair. “Ellie,” he whispered.
Even though every part of me wanted to stay in his arms and pretend it was ten years ago, I pulled away. Immediately..
This was wrong. I wouldn’t break the rules again. I wouldn’t let him break my heart. Again.
I took a step back, heart thudding, and quickly agreed to Caroline’s plea to slide again. Anything to create a buffer.
Brady stood still—watching, waiting. I could feel his gaze settle on me like a memory that refused to fade.
Thank goodness his niece was with us. She was the tether keeping me grounded. Keeping me from falling right back into his arms on purpose.
We slid a few more times, Brady joining in. I made sure to keep Caroline between us at all times. The farther I stayed from him, the safer I felt—emotionally, at least.
After our whirlwind of fun, we turned our attention to the Auburn tree.
Caroline razzed her uncle with delight over how Auburn had crushed Alabama in the Iron Bowl. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Hearing a Jackson say “War Eagle” not just once but several times? Unreal.
Brady had to throw in a few obligatory “Roll Tides,” to which Caroline and I both rolled our eyes with synchronized disdain.
I wasn’t sure that phrase had ever been uttered inside this house. If Aunt Lu ever heard it, she might burn the place down.
The pizza arrived, and I let Brady get the door. I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone from town—especially considering who I was with. They were probably stunned to see a Jackson answering the Eaton’s door.
We ate picnic-style in front of the fireplace. Brady built a fire while Caroline and I dove into the pizza.
Between bites and cinnamon stick crumbs, she told me all about herself.
“I like to draw, play soccer, and read. Your books are my favorite,” she sang, swinging her legs.
“Oh—and when I grow up, I’m going to work at Sonic. Then I can roller skate all day.”
I giggled. Her innocence was downright therapeutic.
“And I love my Uncle Brady because he’s the best uncle ever ,” she added with a spark in her eye—clearly rehearsed.
I glanced at Brady.
She may have been coached, but she wasn’t wrong. Despite everything, he had once been the best person I’d ever known. Which was probably why the hurt burrowed so deep. Making it so I’d never fully recovered.
While she shared her five-year-old résumé, I couldn’t help but notice what was missing—no mention of pageants. Which surprised me.
Surely, her momma and grandma had already started her training.
As we ate, I took in the scene before me—Caroline and Brady teasing each other, laughter bouncing off the walls like it hadn’t in a long time.
Brady was in rare form, delivering the cheesiest dad jokes like he’d stockpiled them just for her.
“What did one snowman say to the other?” he asked, handing Caroline a cinnamon stick. “Do you smell carrots?”
She giggled so hard she nearly dropped it. Which made me laugh.
That laugh . . . it felt like mine again. I’d missed it.
It reminded me Brady had been more than my boyfriend. He’d been the best friend I’d ever had.
And tonight—just for tonight—it felt like I had that back. Even if it was only for the evening.
We finished dinner and went straight back to work on the Auburn tree.
I let Caroline dominate the conversation—not just because I loved hearing her chatter, but because it kept Brady and me from talking. I could feel he wanted to. But really, what was there left to say?
We were each other’s past.
Once upon a time, I’d foolishly believed he could be my future. But this town, our families . . . they’d made sure that never happened.
The white tree in the family room came next. I saved my favorite—the drawing room tree—for last.
Before we could begin, Caroline conked out beside a half-unboxed ornament box.
It was late. Thankfully, Friday—not a school night.
I looked at her, curled up like a sugarplum angel, and found myself wishing for things I shouldn’t.
“You should probably take her home,” I said quietly, turning to Brady. “I can finish the last tree by myself.”
“Please, let me stay,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading.
I shrugged, too tired to argue.
I fetched a blanket for Caroline and tucked her in on the couch as Brady quietly stepped aside to call his brother. He said he’d keep her for the night but didn’t mention where he currently was or with whom.
Of course he didn’t. It felt as if we were still sneaking around.
Silently, we turned back to the drawing room. Carefully, reverently, we began to unwrap the delicate ornaments. Then came the lights—soft white strands that whispered across the branches.
Ten years of silence stretched between us. Ten years of emotion—too heavy to hold, too loud to speak.
While stringing the lights, our hands kept touching. Every brush sent a pulse through me. His touch hadn’t changed. And neither had my reaction to it. I always wanted more, even now that I hated myself for it.
“So,” he asked, breaking the silence, “what’ve you been doing these last ten years?”
What could I say?
I’d spent far too much of that time trying to get over him.
“Graduating from college,” I said carefully. “Traveling, writing.”
I had the urge to tell him everything, but it was best to keep it general. Keep him at arm’s length.
Brady stepped back from the tree and let the ornament he’d just hung settle into place. The handcrafted nutcracker from Russia swayed slightly—stoic, intricate, foreign.
“I’m so proud of you. When your first book came out two years ago, I wasn’t surprised at all. I remember all the short stories you used to write and read to me down by the riverbank.”
Oh, I did too, but I couldn’t respond to that. It was too painful.
“How did you end up at the bank?” I tried to steer the conversation. And I was actually curious. I don’t ever remember that being part of his plans.
“Well, after I broke my leg, the NFL was out of the question.” He looked at me as if to confirm that I knew about his injury. I think everyone in the state knew about that injury. I would never forget seeing him hurt and how I ached.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get your dream of playing in the NFL,” I said quietly, but I meant every word.
He shrugged as he added another ornament. “The NFL wasn’t my dream, just my favorite career choice.”
His tone and admission surprised me. He sounded like he had come to terms with it, but I could tell there was some regret there.
“Benjamin talked me into working for him,” Brady said, adjusting a branch. “So I got my master’s in finance. Turns out I’m not half bad with numbers.”
“Speaking of Benjamin,” I began, careful not to sound too curious, “how did he end up back here—and married to an Auburn grad?”
The sparkle returned to Brady’s eyes. “Well, let’s just say Miss Teen USA drained their joint account and ran off with the Miss Virginia pageant organizer.”
“Ouch.”
He nodded. “Benjamin moved back about seven years ago. Took over my dad’s spot at the bank. His wife, Kendra, used to be my physical therapist.”
“You let an Auburn woman touch you?” I teased.
Brady peeked around the tree, catching sight of my jersey. “I’m actually partial to Auburn women.”
I looked straight at him. “And yet you chose one from Alabama.”
I shouldn’t have said it. But maybe I needed him to know just how much he’d hurt me.
“Ellie . . . ” He reached for me, but I stepped back.
The tree was almost done, and so was I.
“I’m sorry, Brady. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s late.” I glanced over at Caroline. “You should probably get her back to your momma and daddy’s.”
“I have my own home. You should come out sometime and take a look, you would love it. It’s out by the lake, and I have a tire swing. We could talk. Really talk.”
I shook my head even though the offer was tempting. A tire swing and Brady were a magical combination. Too magical
“I don’t think so. I’m only here until my aunt gets better. Thank you for tonight. I wish you the best,” I stuttered out.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. There are so many things I want to tell you.”