14. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
We spent the rest of the night making up for lost time—talking, kissing, and watching the stars give way to the first blush of sunrise. The eastern sky stretched pale and sleepy over the lake, casting light where firelight had flickered all night.
I should’ve been exhausted. But I hadn’t felt this awake in years.
Neither of us wanted to part, but Brady had early meetings at the bank, and I needed to check in at the hospital. Besides, I didn’t want Doris showing up, spotting my car, and sending out a search party.
Still, there was something exhilarating about not needing to sneak back home or chase curfews.
As the hours passed, my old worries quietly dissolved.
I hadn’t just remembered why I loved Brady—I’d discovered why I liked him even more now.
He’d grown into the man I always suspected he could be: thoughtful, generous, and grounded.
But one thing hadn’t changed—he still loved Kaysville with his whole heart.
And after everything? I wasn’t sure I could.
The idea of living this close to his parents gave me actual chills. But when he spoke about the cabin, about building it with his own hands, I could feel the pride radiating off him. It was a labor of love. I couldn’t fault him for that.
So, I made a decision: We’d see where things went. Cross the bridges when— and if —we came to them.
Brady, of course, was already sprinting across the bridge with a torch in hand.
I wanted him. So much. But after everything this town and our families had put us through, I had some serious reservations. I’d be tiptoeing across every bridge until I knew they were strong enough to hold us.
More than ever, I needed answers. I needed Aunt Lu to finally explain why the Jacksons had hated me for so long. Brady might not care, but I did—especially if we ever dreamed of building a family. Those ghosts needed to be named and buried.
As Brady doused the fire, I noticed a tightness in his gait.
“Is your leg okay?”
He glanced down and shrugged. “Acts up every now and then. Nothing to worry about.”
He walked me up to the house, eager to give me a quick tour. I couldn’t help grinning the moment we stepped inside.
It was beautiful—clearly crafted with care and intention—but it screamed bachelor pad.
The only furniture in the living room was a black leather couch positioned directly across from an oversized flat-panel screen.
The breakfast nook held a card table and a pair of fold-up chairs. Practical. Laughably so.
Brady ran a hand through his hair. “It could definitely use a woman’s touch.”
“You could say that.” I glanced around. “Do you at least have bedroom furniture?”
“Does a futon count?”
I laughed and shook my head.
He stepped closer and wrapped me in his arms. “How about this—we go furniture shopping, and you get full creative control. Top to bottom.” His grin deepened. “Especially the bedroom.”
I reached up, fingers grazing his cheek. “I thought we agreed to take things slow?”
He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. “I really don’t want to.”
“Brady.”
“Darlin’.”
I tilted my head. “You do remember I own my own home, right? Technically two homes now. And I’m not sure I want to live this close to your parents.”
His face fell for half a second—but he bounced back like he always did. “Fine. I’ll start looking for a job in Atlanta, and we’ll live there.”
I rose on my tiptoes, pulled his face down, and kissed him. “Brady, I love you.”
He looked like he’d just won a championship game. His kiss deepened, arms pulling me tighter. “I love you. I don’t care where we live—only that we’re together.”
I rested my forehead against his. “We don’t have to decide today.”
He scooped me up and twirled me around, full of that boyish joy that always made me smile. “I guess I better get you home.”
The drive back was quiet in the best kind of way. Brady kept reaching for my hand or sneaking glances that made my heart stutter. It felt as if the last ten years had folded into each other, and we’d never truly been apart.
When we pulled up in front of Aunt Lu’s house, he walked me to the door like it was still our tradition. Then he kissed me—long and lingering—like goodbye was something neither of us wanted to say.
Afterwards, he traced his finger slowly along my cheek, eyes locked with mine.
“What’s it going to take before you’ll marry me?”
After that kiss? Not much. But I knew better than to say that out loud.
I gave him a playful look. “How about you get my aunt to call you Brady instead of ‘that Jackson boy’ ?”
I knew that would buy me some time to come to terms with some of the other issues we faced.
He pulled me in tighter, chuckling. “Alright, Ellie. Get ready to pick out a dress and book the church.”
He sounded too confident. Too sure.
He clearly had no idea who he was dealing with.
Aunt Lu was going to give that boy a run for his money—and I planned on enjoying every minute of it.
I took a long, hot shower and let the steam rise around me as my thoughts tangled into knots. So many emotions swirled through me—bliss, fear, hope, and panic—but one truth pulsed louder than the rest: Brady Jackson loves me and wants to marry me.
I wanted that, too. But wanting wasn’t the same as knowing how to make it work.
This town, his family, my aunt—none of them would make a wedding simple.
A union between an Eaton and a Jackson would trigger a storm of whispers, awkward silences, and burned bridges.
I couldn’t imagine ever being invited into his family’s home without tension simmering beneath every smile.
If Brady went through with this, he’d risk being disowned.
Of course, Benjamin and Kendra would be fine. That gave me comfort. But what about our future kids? Would they be welcomed—or politely excluded? Would his parents look at them and see me and never get past it?
Then there was the question of where we’d live. Brady meant it when he said he’d move to Atlanta. But I saw it in his eyes—disappointment tucked behind devotion. He pictured us at his log cabin. That place was more than wood and stone—it was his dream.
I could work anywhere. And I loved being near Aunt Lu. But half of Kaysville still saw me as an Eaton with a past, and marrying Brady wouldn’t earn me any points.
The hot water ran out before my thoughts did.
I wished I could be like Brady—focused on nothing but love. I knew it mattered more than anything else, but the scars from ten years ago hadn’t faded. His parents and even Aunt Lu had made our young love a battlefield.
Brady kept repeating he wasn’t eighteen anymore, but family is family, and sometimes we do stupid things for them—like getting engaged to a girl you don’t even love.
I had to wonder how much pull his family still had on him.
***
By the time I arrived at the hospital, the staff was preparing to move Aunt Lu to the fourth floor—a private room. She looked better, albeit slightly annoyed. She was ready to go home.
I walked over and kissed her cheek.
“Where have you been this morning, Ella Lu?”
“We’ll talk when you get settled in your new room.”
She looked me over with surgical precision. “You were with that Jackson boy , weren’t you?”
I gave a coy grin. The nurse didn’t need to hear the full report. Besides, I smiled because she still wouldn’t call him Brady.
“That’s what I thought,” she muttered. At least there was a half-smile. That was progress.
She was trying. I knew that. Her protectiveness had always come from love, but her dislike for the Jacksons ran deep. Seeing me back in Brady’s arms couldn’t be easy.
As the nurse wheeled her down the corridor, I held her hand. She hated not walking—but she squeezed my fingers tight, and I held on.
Once she was tucked into bed, surrounded by a generous supply of pillows, she gave me a look. “Ella Lu, do my makeup and my hair. And for the love, find some polish that doesn’t look like wet cement. I look like I tangled with a leaf blower.”
I opened her toiletry bag. “What’s this? Has one of the doctors caught your fancy?” I teased. “Planning on beating me to the altar?”
She scoffed. “After all these years? Please. Men are the worst kind of trouble.”
I laughed. “True—but sometimes they’re worth it. You loved George Reed.”
She looked at me, unsure how to answer. I stopped shaking the taupe nail polish in my hand.
“You did love him, right? You were married.”
She hesitated. “I came to love him,” she whispered, like it was something she’d never said aloud.
“If you didn’t love him, why did you marry him?”
She didn’t respond. So, I unscrewed the cap and began painting her nails.
Several minutes passed quietly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just waiting.
Then she spoke.
“Ella Lu, I’m not proud of my decision. But he knew I didn’t love him when we said our vows. He loved me, though. He promised to be such a good husband that I wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with him.”
Her voice dropped lower.
“He was older, very charming, and wealthy. And I was desperate to escape my life at the time. So, I agreed.”
I kept my eyes on her nails, hoping the rhythm of small strokes would help her feel more comfortable.
“How long did it take you to fall in love with him?”
She hesitated. “Longer than it should have.”
“Do you regret it?”
Her gaze flicked toward me. “Ella Lu, where are all these questions coming from?”
I finished the last stroke of taupe polish, then gently closed the bottle and set it aside. I looked into her eyes, searching for answers.
“Brady wants to marry me.”
Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“Well, he was all for the courthouse this morning.” I smiled. “So, I told him no.”
“No child of mine will marry at the courthouse.”
“That’s what I said, too. He’s willing to wait until I’m ready—until I’m sure—and then marry me properly at the church.”
She looked stoic, but I saw it. The sadness tucked behind her composure. Something was stirring.
“Aunt Lu, could you accept Brady? Maybe even love him?”