6. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Before I knew it, I was standing in the long line to see Santa. The air was crisp, but the sunshine softened the chill.
Caroline, as usual, was a delightful chatterbox, rattling off her wish list like Santa had asked for it in triplicate.
“I want a new baby brother or sister,” she declared proudly.
“Oh,” I said, startled. “Is your mommy pregnant?”
“No,” she pouted. “But I really want her to be. If not, I want a puppy!”
Brady and I both laughed. I silently hoped her parents had been briefed.
“And I want the new Aunt Calliope and Jane dolls,” she added with a dramatic hand flourish.
That, at least, was something I could help with. I made a mental note to call my office Monday morning.
As we stood in line, I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at Brady. Back in high school, he was handsome. Now? He was beautiful.
Tall, athletic, rugged in all the right ways—his jeans unfairly flattering, and those ridiculous lashes framing eyes that hadn’t changed at all.
A few times, I caught him peeking at me.
I hated that I wondered if he still found me to be as beautiful as he once thought I was. It was silly of me to care.
I was grateful when the woman behind us tapped my shoulder. “Are you Elle Eaton?” she asked.
I smiled, a little shy, but still proud. “Yes.”
“She likes to be called Miss Ellie, ” Caroline chimed in helpfully.
She flashed her one missing tooth grin, and I melted. How could I correct her?
“Miss Caroline is right,” I said with a wink. At least for now. I wasn’t sure I could afford to stay Miss Ellie for much longer.
The two little girls next to the woman gasped with excitement. “Will you sign our books, Miss Ellie?” one asked, eyes wide.
“Of course,” I said warmly.
From their boutique bookbag, they pulled out every title I’d written—neatly stacked, freshly purchased.
Seeing those stories in their hands, out in the wild? It was an honor. Always.
The two little girls burst into questions.
“Do you go to all the places Calliope and Aunt Jane go?”
“When’s your next book coming out?”
“Do you love to write?”
Caroline couldn’t wait for her turn to speak. “Well, I got to slide in my socks with her—just like Calliope,” she boasted proudly.
“Really?” the girls gasped in unison.
Brady nudged me, pride etched across his grin.
I nudged him back, smiling. It wasn’t often I got approached in public like this, and somehow, being with Brady made it feel even more special. Maybe because he was the first person I ever shared my stories with. And he always believed in me.
Well . . . until that Christmas.
Finally, Caroline made it to the front of the line. She bounded up to Santa as if she’d rehearsed it in front of her mirror.
Brady and I stood nearby, watching.
I glanced up at him and spoke, voice low. “Is your brother really okay with his daughter being with me?”
Brady didn’t hesitate. “I told you—things have changed, Ellie.”
“No, they haven’t,” I said, not bothering to hide my frustration. “You should’ve seen how your bank manager treated me today. And the stares when we walked out together?”
Brady’s ears turned red—just like they always did when he got upset. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Brady, don’t. I don’t want you to talk to her. I’ll be gone soon anyway.”
His eyes locked onto mine. So full of emotion, it made me catch my breath.
I’d seen that look before. Right before the last time he ever kissed me.
He leaned in—close enough to feel his breath dance across my skin—but didn’t kiss me. Instead, he whispered, “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
Goosebumps surged through me.
I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him I wouldn’t, but I didn’t get the chance.
Caroline came bouncing back, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with Santa magic.
Brady stood up straight, gave my hair a gentle tug, then lifted his niece and spun her in the air.
He turned to me, still smiling. “Where to, Ellie?”
I pulled out Aunt Lu’s absurdly long list and held it up like a scroll.
Brady laughed.
“You didn’t know what you were getting into when you lied to get me to come with you this afternoon.”
He shrugged, a boyish glint in his eye. “I only bent the truth.” Then, without ceremony, he hoisted Caroline onto his shoulders.
I looked up and smiled at her. “Well, Miss Caroline, I need help picking out a dress for church tomorrow. You think you can handle that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, voice crisp like a boot camp salute.
I gave Brady a glance. “Follow me.”
“With pleasure,” he replied, trailing behind me like I’d given him orders he’d waited years to receive.
We walked toward one of my favorite boutiques. Shopping for church clothes with Brady felt bizarre. But I didn’t need Aunt Lu to have a full-blown fit tomorrow.
Caroline bounced beside me, her eyes scanning the racks like a color-scouting expert. She was on the lookout for anything bold, with polka dots and bows.
I preferred sleek lines, muted tones, and understated elegance. Still, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So, I took her picks to the dressing room, along with a few of my own.
Brady took a seat with Caroline, joining the parade of men waiting like seasonal decor. All waiting for wives or girlfriends. Part of me wished I fit the bill.
I came out first in Caroline’s selections. She squealed. Brady smiled politely and shook his head above hers like a silent judge with an amused verdict.
Then came the mint sheath dress—long sleeves, knee-length, every inch soft confidence. It hugged just right. Nothing too clingy. Nothing too loud.
Brady’s face shifted. He didn’t say a word, but I knew. He liked it. More than liked it.
Caroline gave me two thumbs up. Thank goodness. I wasn’t ready to be polka-dotted.
Outside the store, Brady leaned down, voice warm. “I’m looking forward to church tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes. That charm was exactly what I didn’t need. Or maybe exactly what I did. No. Just no.
I pulled out Aunt Lu’s list and mapped our route. I hadn’t realized she bought gifts for every soul she’d ever exchanged pleasantries with—mailman, gardener, stylist . . .
Then I saw it—Brady and Benjamin Jackson.
Was this Aunt Lu’s idea of a joke? Surely not. When it came to the Jacksons, she never joked. Did she have dementia? I couldn’t make head nor tail of it.
The shock must’ve shown on my face.
“Are you okay, Ellie?” Brady asked, eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I lied. “I’m just not sure what to get a couple of people on the list.”
“Puppies!” Caroline announced. That girl was on a mission.
I grinned at her but turned to Brady, curious. “So, what are you asking Santa for this year?”
I had no clue what to get him or his brother from my aunt.
“I hope it’s a puppy!” Caroline burst out, full throttle.
Brady laughed softly, eyes twinkling. “It’s not a puppy, darlin’.”
“Aww,” she pouted.
“So?” I asked.
Brady winked. “That’s between me and Santa.”
That wasn’t helpful at all.
I decided I’d ask Aunt Lu later if she truly meant to put the Jackson boys on her list. Surely, that was a mistake.
We hit a slew of stores—Pottery Barn, Apple, a dozen department counters. Caroline was a champ, chattering away as Brady carried her piggyback or hoisted her onto his shoulders like she was royalty. He also managed to juggle half of my shopping bags.
Around the seventh store, I asked if he regretted his little trick to get me to come.
He tugged on my hair. “Well worth it.”
I nudged him. He was too charming for his own good.
Or mine.
By dinnertime, Caroline was wilting. A little whiny, a little glassy-eyed—but Uncle Brady fixed that fast with a promise: cheeseburgers and milkshakes.
I knew exactly where we’d end up: a roadside joint just outside Birmingham. Back when we were dating, it was our escape from Kaysville—where no one cared that he was a Jackson or I was an Eaton.
When we parked out front, Brady gave me a look—wide-eyed innocence that I didn’t buy for a second.
I stared at the blinking neon sign and thought of all the nights we’d spent in that booth. Sharing milkshakes. Kisses. Staying until the staff flicked the lights to kick us out.
He came around to get Caroline. Then, he opened my door and held out his hand.
I couldn’t take it, so I slid out on my own.
Of course, Brady didn’t let that stop him.
As we walked toward the entrance, he linked pinkies with me—just like we used to. I shook my head and gently moved Caroline between us.
He may have tricked me into this day, but it wasn’t a date. I couldn’t break the rules. Not again.
Inside, it was exactly the same. Red vinyl booths. Black-and-white tile. Even the old jukebox still lit up.
Brady asked for a booth. I slid in beside Caroline. Not beside him. Not like before.
He looked disappointed—but he still smiled.
The boy, the man, was killing me.
Mrs. Kellen, the owner, emerged before we could settle in.
“Randy! Come out here and see who’s here!” she called to the back, before turning to us. “Look at the two of you, all grown up. I knew you’d end up together—and now here you are with your little carrot-top.”
I thought she might cry. Honestly, I felt like crying too.
“Mrs. Kellen . . . ” I started, but before I could explain, her husband joined her.
“I told you he’d never marry that Miss Alabama girl,” she said triumphantly, pointing at Brady. “Whenever I saw you two on TV, I could tell—you never looked at her like you looked at Miss Ellie.”
I used to think the same thing, but I couldn’t let myself believe it, then or now.
Brady’s stare landed on me, full force. My cheeks flushed. My eyes stung.
I cleared my throat. “Mrs. Kellen, we’re not married. And Caroline is Brady’s niece.”
She blinked. “Oh.” Then she swatted Brady with a menu. “Well, boy—what’ve you been waiting for?”
I wanted to disappear.
Brady cleared his throat. “Mrs. Kellen, I think we’d like to order now.”
She looked mildly disappointed, but took our order: three cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate milkshakes. No sharing. Not this time.
The second she left, Caroline leaned toward Brady. “Why did that lady think you and Miss Ellie were married?”
Brady glanced at me before turning to her with obvious affection. “Because, darlin’, Miss Ellie used to be my girlfriend.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, looking to me for confirmation.
“That was a long time ago,” I said, more to myself.
“It wasn’t that long ago,” Brady added.
When I met his gaze, it was the same look he gave me all those years ago—right before our first kiss. I couldn’t hold it. I turned to Caroline. “Sugar, want to pick a song on the jukebox?”
She nodded with delight. As we slid out, Brady stood like a gentleman. Before I made it past him, he touched my arm.
“I really am sorry, Ellie.”
I shrugged and followed Caroline, heart heavier than I cared to admit.
Caroline, true country girl that she was, picked Brad Paisley. Her nonstop chatter saved me from facing Brady again too soon.
But while she talked, my mind drifted to nights at that very booth—dreaming of babies with his curls and eyes, a little girl named Emily, a boy named after Brady. All foolish thoughts. But somehow, they still lived in the corners of me.
The food arrived quickly. I’d lost my appetite, but I did my best to eat. I even introduced Caroline to the sacred ritual of dipping fries in milkshakes.
She loved it. Brady did not .
“I can’t believe you still do that,” he teased.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s disgusting. Not exactly behavior befitting a fine Southern lady.”
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
How many times had I said that before?
I used to bribe him with kisses to try it. He’d take the kiss, skip the fries, and say, “Ellie, you know you want to kiss me anyway.”
And he was right. I always did.
Still did.
But it was best not to think about that.
He arched an eyebrow. “If I do, will you agree to the original terms?”
I blinked. So he remembered, too.
He really was too much.
I shook my head. “No.”
He laughed. “Worth a shot.”
Caroline yawned, a soft surrender to a long day. Brady paid for dinner, scooped her up, and we headed out.
Mrs. Kellen reappeared and offered an apology.
“Don’t worry about it,” we said in perfect unison.
She smiled and wagged a finger at us. “I still have hopes for the two of you.”
I wanted to tell her not to. But we simply said goodnight and walked away.
Tomorrow, I’d get Aunt Lu to schedule her procedure. I needed to get out of Alabama as quickly as possible.
Brady drove me home first; Caroline was already asleep. He carried my embarrassing number of shopping bags inside without complaint.
I thanked him, walked him to the door. Then saw it— that look. The one he gave me the night of homecoming. The night he told the whole town I was his.
I was in trouble again.
I reached for the door, but he pressed against it. “Ellie, please.”
“Please what?”
Before I could brace for it, he pulled me close. Fingers gently tangled in my hair.“Ellie . . . please give us another chance.”
I stepped back, heart pounding. Was he for real? “I won’t break the rules again, Brady.”
“Dang it, girl. Hang the rules.”
“I broke them once for you, and it broke Aunt Lu’s heart. And then you broke my heart when you left me. For Amber,” I cried.
His voice cracked. “I thought my daddy was dying. What did you want me to do?”
“I wanted you to wait a few days before throwing yourself into Amber Capshaw’s arms. Did you break up with me and drive straight to her?” I snapped, ten years’ worth of pain unleashed.
He flinched. “What about Nathan Nichols?”
“Who is Nathan Nichols?” I asked, honestly baffled.
“The guy you met in Huntsville. At your debate tournament. The one you were seeing behind my back.”
I shook my head. “Brady Jackson, who told you that?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off and opened the door, pushing him out.
“Better yet, how could you believe that about me? I’ve never even heard of a Nathan Nichols.”
The heartbreak sharpened in my throat.
“You didn’t know me at all. And you sure as heck didn’t love me the way I loved you.”
And before he could speak, I slammed the door in his stunned face.