13. Chapter Twelve #2
I glanced out the window as we veered toward the lake, tension creeping up the back of my neck. As we neared the Jackson mansion, I braced myself. Surely, he wouldn’t take me to his parents’ place. I breathed a sigh of relief when we flew past it.
We eventually turned onto a narrow, unmarked road almost swallowed by pine trees. I wouldn’t have seen it if I’d been driving.
The path wasn’t paved, but it was worn—like it had been taken often by someone who knew exactly where they were going.
A quarter mile in, the trees opened like a curtain. A cabin stood near the lake, nestled among the pines, like it had always belonged there.
“Is this your place?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a proud tilt to his voice. He’d always dreamed of living in a log cabin—looked like the dream had come true.
As we pulled closer, the details came into view. Rich cedar logs. A broad front porch made of stone and timber, lined with two inviting rocking chairs. It looked newly built, but something about it already felt well lived in.
When he cut the engine, he turned to me. “Well? What do you think?”
I looked around. “I think it’s very you.”
“I’m still chipping away at it,” he admitted, “but it’s livable now.”
“How long have you been working on it?”
“A couple of years. Bit by bit.”
He hopped out, opened my door, and then reached into the cab and pulled out his long gray wool coat. He draped it over my shoulders—heavy, warm, and far too big in the best kind of way. Then he took my hand and led me around the house to the backyard that bordered the lake.
Even in the hush of night, it was beautiful. The moon hung low, mirrored on the still water. A wide stone fire pit crackled near the shore, flames flickering in quiet celebration.
I glanced up at him. It wasn’t like Brady to leave a fire burning unattended.
“Benjamin,” he said simply.
“So, this was a planned setup?”
His eyes glinted. That twinkle was an unmistakable yes.
He guided me to the fire, where smooth flagstones formed a circle around the flames. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured. “Stay here and soak up the warmth.”
He kissed me quickly, then disappeared toward the house.
I watched him climb the porch steps, his silhouette strong against the firelight. It was a porch designed for big family barbecues or summer nights with music drifting out the screen door.
He looked incredible. A little unfair, honestly.
He came back with blankets tucked under one arm and a basket in the other. I wondered whether Benjamin or Kendra had packed it—or if Brady had made this part himself.
He laid out a colorful patchwork quilt across the smooth ground, then began setting out the contents of the basket. A thermos—likely hot chocolate, judging by the subtle spice I caught in the air. Chocolate-covered strawberries, just the way I liked them. And finally, a small speaker.
He connected his phone. A guitar chord strummed through the air, warm and familiar. George Strait’s voice joined the night.
Brady strolled back toward me, visibly pleased with himself. He gestured to the quilt he’d laid out, inviting me to sit beside him.
“It looks like Kendra’s been busy,” I teased.
He laughed and grabbed the extra checkered blanket, wrapping it around both of us until we were one tangled, cozy heap. I leaned into his shoulder, warm from more than just the fire.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Brady Jackson? Because I’m still not that kind of girl.”
He pulled me closer, arm tightening around my waist. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m still not that kind of guy.”
Then he pulled me onto his lap. His lips met mine, and this kiss didn’t ask—it answered . It deepened until time blurred, and I forgot I was an Eaton, just like old times.
When he finally broke away, his grin was wicked and familiar. “But I do plan on convincing you this is where you belong.”
I cupped his face, thumbs brushing along that perfect jawline, eyes locked with his. “Then this might be a long night, cowboy.”
He kissed me again, slower this time, more reverent. “I’m counting on it.”
I settled against him, and he drew me in like he intended to hold me until morning.
“So, Miss Ellie,” he began. “I think I owe you an explanation.” He paused. “No—I owe you more than that. And I promise I’ll get there. But tonight, let’s start here.”
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
“First, you need to know the truth about why I ended things. It was never about Amber. I swear to you, it wasn’t. I know it didn’t look that way. And I wouldn’t blame you if you never believed me. But it’s the truth.”
His voice didn’t waver.
“There was no comparison, Ellie. Not then. Not ever. Being with her was the biggest mistake I’ve made—second only to walking away from you.”
I felt those words land—heavy, honest.
“I was trying to keep the peace during those first months of my dad’s chemo treatments.”
He pulled me even closer, his breath warm against my ear. I wasn’t sure why he whispered—there was no one around to hear. Maybe he thought some things deserved to be said softly. Or maybe he wasn’t ready to say them out loud.
“Ellie . . . I had to ignore you.” His voice cracked just slightly. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to stay away. You don’t know how many times I almost gave in—how many nights I wanted to throw in the towel and beg you to take me back.”
He paused, and I could feel the weight behind his silence.
“Prom night nearly did me in. When I saw you across the room and you were breathtaking. I wanted to hold you. I needed to.”
His voice dipped even lower.
“And for one second, I thought I was going to get to.”
He let that moment hang in the air between us.
“That night, I told myself I was done pretending I didn’t love you. I was ready to fight for us. I even thought about asking you to elope when you turned eighteen.”
I turned to face him. “Are you serious?”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing softly along the line of my jaw. “Dead serious. Ellie, you were and are my dream. My football career, awards, and life meant nothing to me because I didn’t have you to share them with.”
“Why didn’t you?” I begged to know. I’m not sure I would have eloped, but I at least wanted to know what had stopped him.
He exhaled slowly, gaze darkening. “The look you gave me after your name was announced that night killed me. I could see the hate and hurt in your eyes, and what was worse, I knew I caused it. I knew you wouldn’t take me back. Then school ended, and it was like you disappeared.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Brady lovingly wiped it away.
“I thought running away would help me forget about you, but I never could.”
He tilted my face toward his, his lips brushing mine with reverence. “I could never forget you,” he whispered against my mouth. “And I didn’t want to. You’re part of me, Ellie. The best part.”
It should’ve felt perfect. But I needed answers.
“What about Amber?” I asked, gently cutting through the moment.
“What about her?”
“I know you, Brady. You wouldn’t marry someone unless you loved them. You had to have loved her.” Even saying the words made me feel ill.
He rested his forehead against mine and exhaled. “No,” he breathed. “I didn’t love her.”
I didn’t speak. Didn’t press. Confused, yes—but something told me to let it rest. To give the silence room to breathe.
To give him room. And I didn’t mind the nearness or the quiet.
It reminded me of the nights we used to lie wrapped in each other, no words needed.
Just heartbeats and shared breaths. Just us—soaking each other in like summer air.
While he sat in silence, I reached up and ran my fingers through his thick hair, now several shades darker than I remembered. It had deepened over the years—more like mine now. I loved the feel of it. He must have, too.
He lifted both hands to mine, threading his fingers through mine and guiding them back to rest between us. “I’ve missed you doing that,” he murmured. “I’ve missed everything about you.”
His eyes held mine. “Ellie, how could I ever love anyone else when my heart had been claimed by you when I was barely old enough to even know what love was?”
He kissed me to verify those words. “Ellie,” he said quietly, “I didn’t love her. And I didn’t ask her to marry me.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, he gently placed a finger against my lips. He knew me too well.
He grinned—not cocky, just a little sad. “She and my momma cooked up the idea. They thought an engagement announcement would calm the media storm after her Miss America scandal.”
He paused, letting it settle.
“And they were right. It worked.”
His tone dipped.
“I didn’t even buy the ring.”
He sounded so beaten up.
I pushed against his chest, needing to see his face more clearly. “Why would you go along with that?”
“Because that’s what I had been doing for years.
I felt like my life wasn’t even my own back then.
I lived to make my parents happy. I figured someone ought to be happy because I sure wasn’t.
Amber was like my momma’s pet. Sometimes, I felt like she loved her more than me.
But when my leg broke, Amber knew what that meant.
She didn’t really love me either. She loved the glory and the fame, and after the accident I could no longer give her that. ”
He swallowed hard. “I broke it off with her, but told her she was free to tell whatever story she wanted. I didn’t care, I was just so happy to be done with her.”
“Brady, I’m so sorry.”
He tilted his head. “Darlin’, what do you have to be sorry about?”
“I’m sorry you were miserable.”
He cradled my face between his hands, studying me with that unflinching gaze of his. “I’m sorry I ever made you question— even for a second —how I felt about you. If I could rewind time, I’d have married you the moment I had the chance.”
I raised a brow. “You really think I would’ve eloped with you at eighteen?”
He kissed me so thoroughly, the stars might’ve blinked twice.
When we finally surfaced, his signature grin curled like a dare. “I have zero doubt, darlin’. I could’ve talked you into it.”
I swatted his chest. “You’re so full of yourself, Brady Jackson.”
“Maybe,” he said, cocky and unbothered. “But I’m not wrong.”
I rolled my eyes, but inside I knew—he probably wasn’t .
I shifted, tucking my legs beneath me. “So, where do we go from here? I know some things have changed, but your parents still hate me. I don’t want to cause problems in your family again.”
His arm tightened around me. “I say we go straight to the courthouse.”
“Be serious, we can’t get married. We don’t even live in the same state anymore, and we’ve been apart for ten years.”
His expression didn’t falter. Not one inch. “I’ve never been more serious.”
“Brady.”
“What, Ellie?” His voice was low, but urgent. “You know we belong together. Why waste any more time?”
“I can give you a dozen good reasons.” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“Starting with—my aunt would kill you if we ran off to the courthouse. Your parents would probably kill me for even entertaining the idea. And let’s not forget—we’ve been apart ten years.
What if we’re not who we were? What if we don’t even like each other anymore? ”
His answer wasn’t words.
He let out a low sound—half frustration, half resolve—and flipped me gently so I was lying flat on the quilt. The firelight traced the edges of his face, setting every line in gold. He hovered over me breathtakingly.
“I thought you weren’t trying to seduce me.”
He smiled—that grin I’d never been able to forget. “I’m not.” His finger trailed slowly down my cheek. “But I’d like the chance. Real soon.”
Oh, my.
“I think we should take it slow,” I said, voice shaking under the weight of him. “Maybe try dating again. Before we leap into marriage.”
He dipped his head and kissed me—first my lips, soft and lingering, then the curve of my neck. “We dated for two and a half years already,” he murmured between kisses.
“We were kids, Brady.”
He lifted his face just enough to meet my eyes, blue and burning. “Tell me you don’t love me.”
I reached up, framing his face with both hands. He was undoing me, one quiet breath at a time. And in that firelit stillness, I couldn’t lie.
“I can’t do that,” I whispered.
He smiled—victorious and unrepentant.
“But,” I added, “I still don’t think we should rush into marriage. Have you even told your parents your intentions?”
He lay down beside me, and just like that, I found myself in my favorite place—curled against his chest, cocooned in the sound of his heartbeat. He pulled the quilt over us, but truthfully, I didn’t need it. His arms were warmer than any blanket.
He kissed the top of my head and sighed. “I told them I love you—and that I intend to win you back.”
The weight in his voice told me exactly how that conversation had gone.
“And what did they say?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
I snuggled in closer. “Can’t you see it does matter?”
“No, darlin’. It doesn’t. We’ve already lost ten years. I’m not losing you again. They know, this time, we’re a package deal.”
I breathed in deep. His words wrapped around me like promise and pressure all at once. I wanted him—wanted this —more than anything. But the part of me still healing couldn’t ignore the risk. What if history repeated itself?
Brady seemed to hear my silence as if I’d spoken it out loud.
“Ellie, there’s nothing they can say or do to change my mind. I’m not eighteen anymore. I know I’ve made mistakes—huge mistakes. If I have to, I’ll apologize to you until the end of time, but we belong together, whether or not our parents approve. What matters is that we love each other.”
I sat up, bracing myself against his chest, needing to see his eyes.
They held mine—unflinching, full of longing.
“What am I going to do with you, Brady Jackson?”
He smiled and ran his fingers slowly through my hair. “You already know what I want.”
“I do.” I smiled faintly. “Let’s just take it slow, okay?”
He wrapped me in his arms, and kissed me like he already had a lifetime to make up for. By the time our lips parted, I was one breath away from saying, Let’s go to the courthouse first thing tomorrow.
He held my gaze. “Okay, Ellie. I’ll do whatever it takes. But just know—I plan to change your name and your zip code as soon as humanly possible.”
I grinned, unable to stop myself.
“Then you better saddle up, cowboy. I have a feeling this is going to be one wild ride.”