10. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
I was up early the next morning and on the road, anxious to get to the hospital and be with my aunt before her procedure.
On the drive over, my mind drifted to the night before and the conversation I’d had with Kendra and Benjamin after I put Caroline to bed.
I got to hear their love story. It wasn’t a cinematic, love-at-first-sight story.
She’d thought he was arrogant. He’d found her obnoxious.
But there’d been chemistry. You could still feel it.
They’d kept their relationship quiet—even from Brady—for months.
Only after they were engaged, and Amber had exited stage left, did they share the news.
That had probably softened the blow. The Jacksons weren’t exactly enthusiastic about pageant winners anymore—two had walked away from their sons.
Kendra’s helping Brady recover physically didn’t hurt either.
Eventually, his parents had given their blessing.
I’d kept quiet while they’d spoken, but the whole thing made me roll my eyes internally. His parents were ridiculous. Kendra was smart, loyal, and obviously in love with Benjamin. Wasn’t that what should matter?
Who cared about her alma mater or whether she’d worn a tiara once? It just reinforced what I already knew: Brady and I could never be together. If they needed convincing to accept a non-Eaton, what chance did I have?
We’d tried before, and the wounds were still fresh. Being with someone whose parents despised you wasn’t just hard—it was impossible.
And yet, Kendra’s words about Brady lingered like fog. She’d said he’d been pressured. Manipulated. That he hadn’t truly loved Amber. She’d claimed he still loved me.
But if that were true, why hadn’t he come after me? Especially after his dad had recovered? Brady wasn’t the type to be pushed around. At least, the Brady I knew wasn’t.
Maybe Kendra was wrong about me not being meant to get over him. I needed her to be wrong.
The hospital came into view, pulling me out of my thoughts. I arrived thirty minutes early. Just before the nurses began prepping Aunt Lu.
She wasn’t being put under, but they had to prep her groin and numb the area. She was not thrilled—and she made sure everyone knew it. The nurses didn’t flinch. They seemed used to her sass and took it in stride.
The doctor arrived, clipboard in hand. “The procedure should take about an hour,” he said. “Barring any complications.”
Complications? My stomach dropped.
The doctor smiled reassuringly. “I don’t expect any. Ms. Eaton is in great shape for a woman of her age.”
Aunt Lu didn’t take kindly to that. She shot him a look that could wither an entire field of dandelions. But, thankfully, she refrained from commentary.
I glanced at her and winked. She looked great for her age—and she knew it.
The doctor noticed her glare and fidgeted slightly. He looked at me, with a flicker of unease in his eyes. “We’ll send someone to get you once she’s in recovery.”
I nodded and stood, walking over to Aunt Lu, who suddenly looked so small. Fragile. Like the fire that had carried her this far was flickering low.
I kissed her cheek and held back tears. “I love you, Aunt Lu,” I whispered.
She looked up at me with those warm doe-brown eyes and squeezed my hand.
“I love you more than air, Ella Lu.”
Then they wheeled her away.
Leaving me very alone.
I made my way to the waiting room, bracing for the quiet—only to be met with something else entirely.
There stood Brady Jackson, in a dark suit and red tie. Two cups of coffee in hand. Looking like every heartbreak I’d ever had and every wish I had never been granted.
And that grin of his that said, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He swaggered over as if the hospital lobby was his stage. All at once, I didn’t feel alone anymore. More like panicked.
“What are you doing here, Brady Jackson?”
“If my momma were going into surgery,” he said, quiet but firm, “I wouldn’t want to be alone.”
I should’ve told him to leave. But his sincerity hit me hard—and he was right. I didn’t want to be alone. If I could choose anyone to sit beside me, it would’ve been him. Even if it was wrong. Even if it couldn’t go anywhere.
I needed him this morning.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He motioned for me to sit and handed me a paper cup. I wrinkled my nose automatically.
He chuckled, leaning in. “It’s hot chocolate.”
“You remembered?”
He nudged me, familiar and playful. “I think it may surprise you what I remember.”
Despite the warmth he ignited in me with a single statement, I took a sip of the hot chocolate to keep myself from doing something reckless.
“So, how did you know what time to be here?” I asked, trying for casual. “And don’t you have a job?”
That probably came out snarkier than I wanted it to. He just had me so confused. And I was trying my best to resist his charm.
He raised an eyebrow. “Kendra called and told me. Benjamin’s got the bank handled for the day.” He paused, then added, “By the way, Kendra really likes you.”
“I like her, too. And your brother. And, of course, Caroline.”
“Speaking of Caroline,” Brady said, reaching into his pocket, “she wanted me to give you this.”
He handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it carefully.
It was a drawing—me, reading to her on her bed, with a puppy curled beside us.
I smiled up at him. “I think someone needs to get her a puppy.”
He chuckled. “Benjamin said she talked of nothing but you this morning. How you’re coming to her show and tell. I told him I was offended—she’s never wanted to take me.”
“And what would you show and tell?” I said way too flirty.
He leaned in, eyes gleaming. “There are some things I’d like to show and tell you.”
My cheeks flushed.
“And what would that be?”
He brushed my cheek with his hand—soft, slow. “I plan to show and tell you later.”
I shivered, leaned back, and took a long sip of my drink before I did something stupid. I wasn’t supposed to be flirting with Brady Jackson. Not here. Not today.
But he was relentless—charming, warm, and dangerously familiar.
We made small talk after that. I tried to keep it light. Brady didn’t make it easy. If I’d let him, I think he would’ve pulled me onto his lap and kissed me until I forgot I was an Eaton.
But at least he made the hour pass quickly.
The hour passed.
Then another half.
Still, no one came to get me.
Worry gnawed at me as I headed to the nurses’ station to find out what was going on.
“Someone will be with you in a moment,” was all the nurse said.
What did that even mean?
I returned to Brady’s side, but my nerves were frayed. I couldn’t sit, so I started to pace. Brady stood and walked with me.
He reached down and took my hand.
My first instinct was to pull away, but the warmth was calming. He kept murmuring reassurances, but I had a bad feeling. A heavy one.
Finally, a nurse appeared. “Ms. Eaton?”
I moved toward her. Brady followed.
She led us into a private waiting area.
Not a good sign.
I squeezed Brady’s hand. He let go—only to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me close.
I gazed up at him. His eyes held the same concern I felt.
I started to shake.
I wasn’t ready to lose her. Not her. She was all I had.
Inside the room, the nurse wasted no time. “Ms. Eaton, there was a problem with the second artery when we began to inflate it. We had to rush your aunt into emergency bypass surgery.”
My voice cracked. “Is she okay?”
She didn’t really answer. “The bypass surgery will take a few hours. Someone will come notify you once she’s in recovery.”
She turned to leave. Then paused in the doorway. “Feel free to take as much time in here as needed.”
The door closed behind her. And the tears came.
Brady pulled me in, wrapped his arms around me tight.
I didn’t fight it. Instead, I held on like my life depended on it.
“Brady, I can’t lose her,” I sobbed. “She’s all I have.”
He tipped my chin gently. “Ellie, don’t think like that. She’ll come through fighting.”
Then softer—softer than anything—“And Ellie . . . you’re not alone.”
I didn’t argue. I rested my head against his now tear-streaked shirt and tie.
Brady’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles over my neck and back. I knew it wasn’t the time to think about it—not with Aunt Lu on the operating table. But being here, wrapped in him . . . It felt like home.
Like I’d finally stepped into the place I belonged.
I cried harder—because every part of me knew that was true. I held on longer than I should have. But I needed him. Worse, I wanted him.
When I finally let go, he held on even longer. And I let him.
When he did pull back, I stepped away. He reached up and brushed my tears away. The look in his eyes—familiar, gutting—was almost my undoing.
I forced myself to glance down, searching for something to hold on to, and found it: a pale smear of makeup on his crisp white shirt.
Before I could say anything about the stain, Brady gently grabbed my hand and lifted it to his face. “I don’t care about the shirt,” he murmured. “I’ve missed your makeup stains on them.”
He kissed my palm, and I nearly melted into the tile.
“I think maybe we should head back to the waiting room.”
“Okay.” But he didn’t let go of my hand.
The moment we stepped out, I excused myself and slipped into the ladies’ room.
Emotion weighed me down, so it was all I could do to step through the door. That was about as far as I got before I had to take several deep breaths to compose myself.
“Please, God,” I said in silent prayer, resting my forehead against the cool wall, “Don’t take her from me.”
He didn’t respond, but I refused to let that hold any sway. I had to hope she would come out of this.
Then I looked in the mirror. No raccoon eyes, thankfully, but I still had puffy bags under my eyes.
I touched up my makeup—for Aunt Lu, of course. Her voice sounded in my head, crisp and commanding: “Pull yourself together, darling.”
The thought made me smile. What would she think of Brady being here?