12. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Doris was already gone, thankfully. I was sure I looked frightful.
I dragged myself upstairs, sat on the edge of my bed, and cried again.
Brady’s coat was still wrapped around me, the fabric clutched close like it could ward off regret.
I inhaled deeply. That scent—familiar and warm, like the end of a fall afternoon.
I’d always loved the way he smelled. Well, except right after football practice or a game.
But even then, I hadn’t minded much. I used to stand on the sidelines and watch him play, cheering like a fool.
And the moment he stepped off the field, he’d scoop me up, spin us in circles, and kiss me breathless.
I had loved that boy with every corner of my heart.
It was memories like these that got me into trouble.
Why couldn’t I be normal? Why couldn’t I be like other people who eventually got over their high school sweetheart? Instead, I felt like one of those heartbreak addicts they parade on talk shows—still holding on while everyone else tells you to let go.
And that kiss didn’t help at all. The moment his lips met mine, my first thought was Finally. I’d been kissed by other men over the years. But none of them compared.
There’s no explaining it, really, but when Brady kissed me, all felt right with the world, and I felt like I was his world.
I was so exhausted, I kicked off only my shoes before I curled up on my bed, wrapped in Brady’s coat, and fell asleep. I woke up early and reluctantly took off Brady’s coat. I got a garment box out of the closet and placed the coat in it. I wrote a short note:
Dear Brady,
Thank you for the use of your coat and for being there for me yesterday. I will always remember your kindness.
I wish you the best.
Sincerely,
Elle
I almost wrote Love, Ellie. My hand hovered for a beat—but I stopped myself.
I dressed slowly, folded the note, and placed it in the garment box with Brady’s coat. When I went downstairs, I set it on the counter.
“Doris, would you mind delivering this to the bank today if you get a chance? ”It was the only way I could get it to him without seeing him.
I could’ve asked Kendra, I guess, but I didn’t want questions. I needed clean lines. No threads back to the Jacksons—except for one tiny promise to read to Caroline’s class. And I’d keep it. I always kept my promises.
Doris surprised me. She sat beside me and took my hands in hers.
“Do you want to talk about it, Miss Ella?”
“Talk about what?”
“That Jackson boy, of course.”
I laughed. “You know he has a name, right? And he’s definitely not a boy anymore.”
“Sorry, Miss Ella. That’s what Ms. Eaton calls him, and I’m just used to it.”
“It’s all right, Doris.” I smiled softly. “Thanks for the offer, but I think he’s the last person I should be talking about.”
She squeezed my hands. “Oh, Miss Ella . . . you still love him.”
“I almost can’t remember a time when I didn’t.” I sniffled.
“You know, I was always rooting for the two of you.”
I mustered a sad smile. “Does my aunt know that?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “This Eaton-Jackson nonsense has gone on long enough in this town. I always hoped the two of you would finally bridge the gap. And Miss Ella, I’ve never seen two kids more in love than you two.”
“I thought so, too,” I mumbled. “But I was young and naive. Brady fell in love with someone else, and his parents would never have accepted me.”
Doris gave a small snort. “Miss Ella, my mother-in-law never liked me—God rest her soul—but that sure didn’t keep me and my Cal apart. And as for Mr. Brady being in love with that other girl? I don’t know. I saw them around town, and it sure didn’t look like love to me.”
“Then why did it last so long? They were engaged.”
“Honey, I can’t answer that. Have you asked Mr. Brady?”
“No. I just yelled at him.”
She patted my cheeks like she used to when I was small. “Well, he probably deserved it.”
“Thanks, Doris. I’ve missed you.”
Her eyes grew wet, unspoken years shimmering in them. “It’s never been the same since you left.”
I hugged her tight, letting that weight settle gently between us.
Then I went about my day.
She fed me well—of course she did. A plate full of comfort and affection. Afterward, I headed to see my aunt. I’d already called this morning and knew she was doing better, but I needed to see her with my own eyes.
Because even sick and stitched together in a hospital bed, she was still my momma. And sometimes, no matter how grown-up you try to be, a girl just needs her mom.
Before heading to see my aunt, I tracked down my favorite doctor friend—the one still lying through his teeth about graduating from Auburn.
Several boxes had arrived that morning: dolls, books, and enough heart to fill a shelf. I owed him for being such a good sport.
And truthfully, I needed a mission.
I asked if I could visit the children’s ward and donate the items. Dr. Sandstrom was gracious as ever. He walked me down to meet the pediatric coordinator, who lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw the donations.
She asked if I’d come read to the kids on Friday.
I said yes, eagerly.
Sometimes, the best cure for feeling sorry for yourself is doing something kind for someone else.
And admittedly, I felt pretty sorry for myself.
If my aunt weren’t in the hospital, I’d probably be hosting a full-blown pity party for me, myself, and I. To be honest, it still might make the evening’s agenda.
My aunt was alert when I walked into the room. Still fragile, but better. Her cheeks had a little color now—the blush of fight returning.
The doctor said she’d move to a regular room tomorrow. Maybe home by the weekend. I held on to that.
A large floral arrangement caught my eye. White roses, spray roses, oriental lilies, and alstroemerias. It was breathtaking.
“Who sent the flowers?”
“That Jackson boy,” she rasped.
Of course they were from him. He needed to stop being wonderful. It wasn’t helping.
“Are you ever going to call him Brady?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Do I have a good reason to?”
“Other than the fact that he has a first name, and he’s not a boy anymore?”
“It’ll take more than that, sugar.”
Fine. I didn’t want to talk about him anyway.
“Are you alone today, Ella Lu?”
Apparently, the universe had other plans. “Yep. Always and forever, it looks like.” Dramatic? Yes. Honest? Also yes.
I sat beside her and held her hand. Her eyes softened, worried.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Ella Lu.”
“That’s not true. I lied to you for over a whole year once, remember? And I’ve never stopped being sorry for it. I paid for breaking the rules.”
Her gaze steadied.
“Ella Lu, I’m sorry I made you lie.”
I leaned back. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said, her voice tender but certain. “I never should’ve made that rule. It wasn’t fair to you—or that Jackson boy.”
“In the end, you were right. I should’ve stayed away from him.”
“Sugar, what happened last night?”
“Oh, just years of pent-up emotion finally erupted.”
She gave me that sly smile—one eyebrow raised. “You finally let him have it?”
“You could say that.”
“So, what did he say?”
“Not much.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Jacksons and Eatons don’t mix.”
She looked at me with steady eyes. “Ella Lu, do you still love that Jackson boy?”
I let my head drop, resting it on her bed. “What does it even matter?”
She reached out and threaded her fingers through my hair. “You didn’t answer the question, sugar.”
I exhaled, weary and raw. “Yes. I still love the stupid man.”
She let out something like a laugh, though it was more breath than sound. “So, what’s the problem? You love him. He loves you.”
I lifted my head and studied her. “How do you know that?”
She brushed a knuckle along my cheek. “I asked him.”
My eyes widened. “Why would you do that?”
She didn’t answer—and I knew that look too well. The Eaton art of delay and diversion ran deep.
“So what’s the problem?” she asked again, calm and deliberate.
“Really?” I stared at her. “Are you kidding? Did they put you on something mind-altering?”
“I’m perfectly lucid, Ella Lu, and don’t sass me.”
“I’m not sassing—I’m confused. You hate Brady Jackson. You never wanted us together. And now you’re acting like you’ve changed your mind overnight. Why?”
“You didn’t answer my question.” She wasn’t budging.
I dropped my head back down and sighed. Why couldn’t she ever just give me a straight answer—when I wanted it, how I wanted it? I knew she’d get there eventually. That was her way. But right now, it was maddening.
“Well, let’s start with the obvious. He lied to me, left me, got engaged to the most ridiculous woman ever with an IQ of a tree, and his parents loathe me. Are those good enough reasons?”
She didn’t respond. She just stroked my hair, and I let her. There was comfort in the familiarity. Part of me wanted to climb into the bed beside her and let her make it all better, like she used to.
But this wasn’t something even she could fix.
After several long minutes, I whispered, “Let’s plan a trip. As soon as you’re well enough to travel.”
“Ella Lu, look up at me.”
I obeyed.
Her eyes held so much tenderness it nearly broke me.
“You can’t run away from this.”
“But it’s over,” I murmured. “There’s nothing to run away from.”
She tapped my nose. “Sugar, I don’t think it’s over—for you or that Jackson boy. I think you both deserve a second chance. Without the constraints. Without the rules.”
I laid my head back down, the ache rising again. I couldn’t believe those words had come out of my aunt’s mouth. But . . . “How could it ever work?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Well, that’s something you and that boy will have to figure out. You only need to decide one thing—whether he’s worth it.”