24. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Brady so happy.
As we walked out of that store, his face was lit with the kind of joy that comes when a hope you didn’t dare ask for suddenly becomes real. I’d had no doubt he would have moved to Atlanta for me. But Aunt Lu was right. The people we loved— everything we loved—was here in Kaysville.
And everything I despised, too. Leaving was never going to change those things. But staying might.
And making Brady happy made me happier than I thought possible.
I let him drive us home, and with every mile, the smile in his eyes grew brighter.
We called Benjamin and asked him to meet us at the house. We wanted to tell them together.
Their reaction was everything I’d hoped for—laughter, hugs, and shared excitement.
But what surprised me was Benjamin. He looked genuinely relieved.
I hadn’t realized what it might’ve meant for him to replace Brady at the bank.
Watching them together, I was only beginning to understand how deep that bond ran.
Still, it was my aunt’s reaction I cared most about. She gave me the look—the one that said I’m proud of you without a single word.
If only she’d give Brady the honor of calling him by his actual name.
It was almost comical now. Not only was she refusing to say it—she seemed to be actively working harder not to say it. Like it might slip out if she let her guard down for just one second.
I didn’t know what held her back. She was happy we were staying, and she understood exactly why. Not that she wasn’t a reason worth staying—she was. But it was Brady who made it possible.
That night, as I lay curled in his arms after she’d gone to bed, he was still scheming. He whispered plans, plots, and half-baked tricks to make her say his name. I laughed and reminded him that kind of defeated the purpose.
I teased him that we had time—our bedroom furniture wouldn’t be delivered until sometime in January. That didn’t matter to Brady. Bed or no bed, he wanted to be married as soon as possible.
I pointed out the obvious:
No formal proposal.
No dress.
No venue.
All the essentials my aunt would insist upon for her only child’s wedding.
He waved them off like they were minor details.
“Ellie,” he said with that mischievous glint in his eye, “the only real question now is . . . where do you want to honeymoon?”
I shook my head, smiling. “Spoken like a true man.”
“I’m serious,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair. “You’ve traveled all over—where would you want to go?”
I gave it some thought. “Somewhere warm and secluded sounds nice. No phones. No schedule. Just us.”
He nodded, his eyes filled with all the possibilities. “I can work with that.”
“I look forward to seeing where you pick,” I murmured, stifling a yawn. I hadn’t slept much the night before—major life decisions tended to do that to a girl.
He glanced at the clock. “Sounds like I better go.”
“I suppose.” I reached for his hand, determined not to beg him to stay, even though every part of me wanted him to. But I knew he wouldn’t.
He remembered the girl who, once upon a time, had told him that she wanted to wait to make love to him until we were married. He honored my wish back then, as hard as it was for both of us. Brady was still honoring it, and it made me love him all the more.
“Are you picking me up for church?” I asked.
He hesitated.
I sat up. “No?”
He reached out and stroked my cheek. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you lately . . . but I’ve got one more request.”
“Moving isn’t enough for you?” I teased, trying to keep the mood light.
He leaned in and kissed my forehead, lingering there for a breath before whispering, “Ellie, will you sit on the left side tomorrow with my family?”
My heart stopped. “Brady?”
“I know,” he said gently. “I’m asking more than I should. But this one—this is coming from my daddy. He asked if we’d sit together. With them.”
I didn’t answer right away. It was a lot to take in. A small ask with big consequences.
“Please, Ellie,” he said, voice low. “He’s not doing well. I think it would mean something to him. It would mean everything to me.”
I stared into those familiar blue eyes and released the breath I’d been holding. “Brady Jackson,” I whispered, “I must really love you.”
I went to bed that night wide awake.
Funny how exhaustion and overthinking make such loyal bedfellows. I was bone-tired—mentally, emotionally, even spiritually—but my mind had clocked in for an overnight shift.
Right choices weren’t always easy choices. I’d said that before, and I believed it. But I hadn’t expected that belief to be tested so quickly. Moving back to Kaysville came with baggage—I’d known that. But I didn’t think that test would arrive on my doorstep faster than Amazon Prime.
I had planned, quite firmly, to ignore the fact that Brady’s additional family members were in town. Especially on Sunday. Especially on their side of the church.
There wasn’t a bone in my body that wanted to throw myself into the middle of their pew parade.
Honestly, I needed to schedule a meeting with the pastor. Have a little chat about installing a neutral zone. Switzerland-style seating. Pews right down the center, reserved for the brave souls who dared support the Eaton-Jackson union. Or who were just tired of the ridiculous rules.
I kept wondering why Mr. Jackson wanted me to sit there.
Kendra had said he refused to tell Brady to leave me—or to stay away. Maybe he was having a change of heart.
Or maybe it was a trap, and they really were plotting to feed me poison apples.
Either way, I didn’t sleep well. Again. But I still rose early and got dressed for church, nerves working overtime.
Aunt Lu was still under doctor’s orders to avoid public places during flu season, which meant no church. She hated being monitored—she was probably plotting a daring escape by now.
Doris, bless her heart, was coming over to aunt-sit. She wasn’t big on church, but she was dear as they came. And she believed she could worship God just fine all on her own, especially when the church in town was divided into two.
Aunt Lu had been sleeping more lately, so I didn’t see her before I left with Brady.
I was almost relieved.
She’d find out soon enough where I sat. And why. I didn’t want to explain it—not yet. Because if she knew it was Isaac who’d asked, I wasn’t sure which she’d find harder to believe. That he’d extended the invite. Or that I’d accepted it.
The drive to church was quiet.
Brady held my hand the entire time, squeezing it every few minutes like he knew I needed the reminder that I wasn’t alone.
That was the extent of our communication until we pulled into the church parking lot.
And maybe that was for the best—because I was pretty sure Doris’s lovingly prepared breakfast was about to make an encore appearance.
As soon as he turned off the truck, I took a long, shaky breath. This felt wrong. No one should feel this kind of dread heading into church.
I turned to him. “Remind me again of your nieces and nephews’ names. And who belongs to whom?”
He rattled it off like a seasoned family reunion planner. “Bailey and Brinley are Beau’s twin daughters—eighteen. His son’s named after him—sixteen. Booker’s got Joshua—also sixteen, and Carden—she’s thirteen.”
Apparently the Jacksons had a thing for B names. I was entering a thematic minefield.
“Okay. I think I got it.” I didn’t, but I hoped they wouldn’t quiz me.
Brady reached over and rubbed my shoulders, slow and firm. “Ellie, it’s going to be okay.”
I gripped his hand like it was the only thing tethering me to earth. “Don’t you dare leave my side. Not for a minute. Not even a second.”
He grinned. “Darlin’, I don’t ever plan on leaving your side.”
I looked down at myself, suddenly unsure. “Do I look alright?”
His gaze swept over me—charcoal-gray fitted dress, tan mid-length jacket, matching scarf, and high-heeled boots. I’d tried to dress like confidence even if I didn’t feel it.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek, voice low and teasing. “I can barely contain myself.”
“Hmm. I could work with that.” I leaned in, practically purring. “We could always leave. Find somewhere secluded.” Just to make out, obviously. Like, some serious making out.
Brady groaned, eyes closing for a beat. “Ellie, you’re too tempting.”
“But not tempting enough ,” I teased, though the ache in my chest was real. Facing all of his family today was the last thing I wanted to do.
He opened his eyes, the struggle clear in them. “You’re more than tempting. But . . . my daddy.”
“I know,” I whispered.
And I did know. I’d seen the hollow under Mr. Jackson’s eyes, the slow movements, the silent winces. His struggle to breathe. He probably didn’t have many Christmases left.
Brady wasn’t choosing between me and desire. He was choosing to honor the man who’d raised him. And somehow, that made me love him more.
“Thank you.” He brushed a quick kiss across my lips. “So . . . you ready?”
“No,” I replied truthfully, “but let’s go.”
He helped me out of the truck, his arm settling around me like armor. We weren’t as much of an attraction as the previous week. Maybe the novelty was wearing off. Maybe we were finally becoming old news. Wouldn’t that be lovely?
Brady kept his arm firm around me as we stepped into the chapel. We were the last of his family to arrive, and the moment we passed through the double doors, Caroline broke free from the pews and launched herself at me.
“Good morning, sugar,” I smiled down at her sweet, eager face.
“Miss Ellie, my cousins are here!” she announced, bursting with joy.
I looked up.
And sure enough, every Jackson head had turned our way. Some were staring. Some, possibly, glaring. Benjamin and Kendra gave me sympathetic smiles that felt like whispered apologies.
Before I could answer Caroline, Brady scooped her up in his arms.
“Where’s my hug, darlin’?” he asked.
She wrapped her arms around his neck like she’d been waiting all week for it.
He set her down gently, then reached for my hand.
I took hers, too.
And just like that, the three of us walked toward the pews under the watchful eye of half the congregation. Heat rose in my chest. Pressure built in my lungs, shallow and tight. Brady’s hand squeezed mine—his silent reassurance—but it didn’t settle me this time.
Beau’s family filled the pew in front of his parents. Benjamin and Booker’s families were behind. And that meant one thing. We were about to sit with his parents. Smack in the middle. Surrounded on all sides—by hostiles in designer clothing and judgment wrapped in diamonds and pearls.
I kept my eyes on Brady. It was the only way to steady myself.
The glances weren’t subtle. Especially not from their wives—Rachelle and Sherrie, who both made sure I felt their scrutiny like badge pins through fabric. And then there was his momma. Her expression suggested she was mentally choosing which side dishes to choose when serving me for lunch.
She sat at the end of the pew. Brady’s daddy was beside her—but not close. That space between them spoke volumes.
“Good morning, y’all,” Brady said cheerfully as we stepped into what felt like the inner circle of hell. Murmured greetings answered him—polite and perfunctory. Except from his momma. She offered nothing. Not even a blink.
Caroline tugged on my arm, bright-eyed and brave. “Can I sit with you, Miss Ellie?”
“Of course, sugar,” I said, my voice warm but thin. “As long as it’s okay with your parents.”
Kendra nodded from the pew behind, her smile full of quiet encouragement. I managed one in return, though inside I felt dangerously close to tears—or a full sprint in the opposite direction.
Brady took my hand and led me deeper into the pew jungle. If his momma could have tripped me, I genuinely believe she would’ve. His daddy, at least, offered a small smile as we passed. Caroline hugged his neck sweetly and settled in beside him.
I ended up next to Caroline—Brady took the end. I’d wanted that spot myself, but switching now would have been too obvious. Besides, I was already here. The commitment had been made.
As we settled in, Brady offered proper introductions. The group responded with manners—a small gesture, but more than I’d expected. Then the twin girls turned and surprised me.
“I love your boots,” one said.
“Where’d you get them?” the other asked.
I blinked, stunned. It wasn’t peace, but it was a moment. A small victory.
And in this fiery furnace, I’d take it.
The service was about to start, so everyone faced forward. Everyone except me.
I glanced to my side, watching Isaac with Caroline. He slipped a Tootsie Roll from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She smiled and kissed his cheek, utterly charmed.
Then he looked at me. And before I could stop myself, I smiled back. I think it was his eyes. I saw Brady in them—steady, kind, quietly complex.
Without a word, he held out another Tootsie Roll. For me.
I took it, stunned by the gesture. Stared at it in my hand, forgetting to even say thank you.
Brady kissed my temple, gently snapping me out of the moment. I turned to him. The way he looked at me—I felt like I was his entire world.
Benjamin leaned in from the other pew and whispered, “Okay, lovebirds—save the sappy looks for after church.”
We both smiled and faced forward. I tried to focus on the sermon, but it was near impossible.
Covert glances from the front pew. Icy stares from his momma. But it was the quiet, repeated looks from his daddy that struck me most. Not sharp. Not judging. Just . . . gentle.
Sweet, even.
By the end of the service, I was practically ready to sprint toward Sunday School.
Unfortunately, Brady’s family didn’t seem in a rush to move.
I looked at Brady. He caught the cue, stood up, and I followed. Benjamin and Kendra rose, too. Thankfully, they had a legitimate reason to leave—to take Caroline to the children’s class.
Caroline kissed both her grandparents goodbye and waved to everyone like she was closing a Broadway curtain. Absolutely precious.
Brady asked his brothers and their wives, “Y’all staying for Sunday School?”
They shook their heads. Said they were heading home with his parents.
I nearly sagged with relief.
We said our goodbyes. I even lied in church—told them it was nice to meet them all. Judging by their expressions, they didn’t quite know what to say to me either.
His momma stood, posture rigid. She was ready for me to leave.
We began to make our way out of the pew. Heading toward the Promised Land—as it were.
And then Brady’s daddy reached up and gently touched my arm.
I froze.
Of all the gestures I’d expected, that wasn’t one of them.
He looked up at his son. “Brady,” he rasped as best he could, “bring this young lady to Christmas Eve dinner.”
Uh . . . what?