13. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Well, that was the million-dollar question. Was Brady Jackson worth it?
I had too many unanswered questions to know for sure. After last night, it felt like they were going to stay unanswered. I didn’t expect Brady to come around again.
And I had zero plans to chase him.
Aunt Lu and I spent the rest of the day bouncing around potential settings for my next book. Sydney, Tokyo, or Rio de Janeiro. Each had its own plotline whispering for attention.
She liked the Sydney idea best—said she could already picture the drama unfolding at the Opera House. I told her we could sketch out storyboards while she recovered. She liked that.
By evening, she was worn out, and truthfully, so was I. And one serving of cafeteria food had been more than enough for the day.
Doris had promised to leave something for me to warm up at home—saintly woman that she was. Note to self: I really needed to get a cook in Atlanta.
I said my goodbyes and headed home.
On the drive, Brady kept slipping into my thoughts. It still baffled me that Aunt Lu—the original enforcer of “Jackson boys are off-limits”—was now encouraging a second chance.
It was surreal.
I wasn’t ruling out a parallel universe. Or a coma.
And deep down, I wished she’d tell me the truth about the “information” she supposedly came across. But I knew better.
She’d reveal it when she was good and ready—or after whatever plan she’d stitched together either worked spectacularly… or fizzled completely.
I headed straight for the kitchen when I got home.
Something smelled heavenly.
There, waiting like a warm hug in a bowl, was a crockpot full of cheesy potato soup—next to a loaf of freshly made bread.
So maybe Kaysville wasn’t all bad.
I curled up with my meal, replying to all the emails I’d ignored during the day. The soup worked its magic, but afterward, the quiet crept in. That pity party I’d postponed was knocking.
I wandered into the music room.
I missed playing my grand piano. It didn’t fit in my Atlanta townhome—not physically, or emotionally. This room was its home.
I sifted through old sheet music. So many memories: recitals, endless hours of practice, dramatic speeches about finger cramps and unfair expectations.
Aunt Lu had always said I’d thank her someday. And, like always, she was right.
One particular piece made me pause.
I was pulled into memory—a warm spring night, junior year.
Brady had asked me to meet him down by the river, our favorite tucked-away spot. When I arrived, he’d transformed the back of his truck into something magical. A blow-up couch. His tablet balanced just so. Popcorn and drinks.
He looked so proud of it—his own workaround since we couldn’t visit each other’s homes.
Honestly? It was better.
We cuddled close under the stars, and he put on an old movie, The Man from Snowy River .
I’d never even heard of it, but Brady loved horses, and that film was basically made for him. In many ways it was made for us. A boy and girl in love—torn apart by parental objections. Sound familiar?
Jessica, the heroine, played the piano. Just like me.
There was a scene where she played Für Elise and Brady thought it was beautiful, so I promised him I’d learn how to play it. My piano teacher had told me it had been way over done, but I didn’t care. I practiced that piece until I could play it perfectly and from memory.
But it wasn’t just the music that hit me so strongly.
At the end of the movie, Jim tells Jessica’s father that he’ll be back for her. He meant every word of it.
I cried. Brady wiped my tears.
Then he kissed me, tucked my face beneath his chin and whispered, “No matter what, I’ll always come back for you. Nothing—not even our parents—can keep us apart.”
And I believed him. With my whole foolish heart.
I sat on the bench and ran my fingers over the keys. Then I began—our song.
No sheet music needed. It lived in me now, stitched into my soul the way good music is supposed to be.
Next came Jessica’s Theme from the movie. As I played, the tears fell. Quiet. Unrelenting.
It was a world-class pity party. For one.
Or so I thought.
At the end of Jessica’s Theme , I heard it—clapping.
Startled, I turned. Brady stood at the doorway, looking annoyingly fabulous in jeans, a collared shirt, and a blue sweater that somehow made his eyes look even bluer.
I sat there, wiping my face, trying to hide the fact that I’d been crying since the first chord.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said, voice low. “I knocked and knocked—no one answered. But then I discovered your door was unlocked.”
“So you just let yourself in?”
He gave me that crooked grin of his. “Well, how else was I supposed to see you?”
I stood up and closed the piano lid slowly. Trying not to shake. Trying not to hope.
Brady crossed the threshold, stepping closer than I thought he would.
“Do you remember the first time you played those songs for me?”
He must’ve been standing there longer than I realized.
“You might be surprised what I remember.” Pain laced my words.
Thoughts of the first time I played those songs for him raced through my mind.
We sneaked into the school’s choir room.
Home wasn’t an option. And Aunt Lu would’ve had a meltdown if he’d come to a recital.
When I finished playing, he hugged me tight. Told me he loved me. Me. Just me.
More tears slipped out.
Brady edged closer, gently drawing me to him.
I let him.
Resting my head against his chest, I cried quietly. He stroked my hair with one hand, held me with the other like he was afraid I’d disappear again.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie,” he whispered.
“You promised you’d always come back for me,” I cried. “But you didn’t.”
“I know,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I should have. But I’m here now. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Brady, how can we ever make it work? Too much has happened and not enough has changed.”
He shaped my face with his hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears from my cheeks. “One thing that’s never changed,” he whispered, “is that I love you. And I’ve only ever loved you.”
I opened my mouth to protest—but he found my lips before the words could come.
For a moment, the world around us exhaled. His kiss was gentle at first, uncertain—testing the waters like we were on the edge of something brand new. When I kissed him back, he didn’t hesitate. He deepened the kiss, his hands sliding through my hair, then down my back, anchoring me against him.
I lost track of time and space as we stood there for minutes, the warmth of his minty breath mingling with mine. The ache to be as close to him as possible running through my veins.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, he kissed my forehead with swollen lips.
“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Ellie.”
“I might have an idea,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.
Then he did something I hadn’t felt in years—he lifted me off my feet like he used to, eyes alive with happiness. It was Brady—more grounded, more grown. But still Brady.
“Will you come with me somewhere?”
“It’s kind of late,” I said, but my heart was already halfway out the door.
“I know, but we need to talk, and I want to show you something.”
I thought about it for a moment. “All right.” We definitely needed to talk.
He kissed me again, briefly but tenderly, before setting me down.
“You should probably change first.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise, just go put on some jeans and a warm shirt.”
I started toward the back staircase, but Brady grabbed my hand, spun me into a dip, and kissed me again—this one longer, firmer, more heated.
“Sorry, darlin’. I’m just making up for lost time.” He pulled me upright, eyes locked on mine. “I do love you, Ellie.”
I didn’t say it back. Not yet. He didn’t seem surprised. “I love you enough for the both of us,” he said, brushing a kiss to my cheek.
I walked away in a lovely daze. Up the narrow, hidden staircase, the one that always felt like a secret passage in childhood. I didn’t know what came next, but I found I didn’t care—not tonight. For the first time in a long time, I felt like myself, and I didn’t want to lose that feeling.
I changed into some new jeans I’d had delivered to the house, then pulled on one of my old Auburn sweatshirts. It felt fitting—equal parts comfort and defiance.
When I came down the main staircase, Brady was waiting in the foyer. As soon as he saw me, his face lit up like I’d just stepped out of one of his favorite memories.
He met me at the last step, wrapping me in his arms. Even with me higher up, I was still shorter. Still his Ellie.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yep.”
“Do you have a warm coat you can wear?”
“I left mine in Atlanta,” I said. “I can check my aunt’s closet.”
Brady shook his head. “You can borrow mine again. When I got it back today, it smelled like you.”
“Yeah, well, I slept in it.”
He kissed me quickly—soft and pleased. “I like knowing that.”
Outside, he led me straight to the driver’s side of his truck, same as always. He opened the door and grinned at me like we were seventeen again and rules didn’t matter.
I raised an eyebrow, but slid in beside him, settling in the middle. His arm wrapped around me as soon as he climbed in, and then his lips found mine again—firmer this time, like he’d been holding back and didn’t want to anymore.
He tugged playfully at my hair. “You look perfect right here.”
Then he hit the gas like he had somewhere urgent to be.
“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re headed?”
He reached down and laced his fingers through mine. “In time.”
We passed the drive with easy conversation.
“How’s your aunt?” he asked.
“She’s doing a little better, just tired. The flowers were beautiful, by the way. Trying to earn points?”
He chuckled. “Well, I’m just hoping someday she’ll call me by my name.”
“You have your work cut out for you there.”
“Believe me, I know.”