Page 21 of The Rules We Broke
Mr. Howard cleared his throat and began. “Mr. Jackson, thank you for meeting with us. We’re here on behalf of Ms. Eaton’s aunt, Luann Eaton, to finalize documentation related to power of attorney and banking access. Ms. Eaton has been appointed as her legal representative, and we’ll need to add her as a cosigner on the accounts listed under Luann Eaton’s name.”
Brady nodded, professional but distracted. “Of course. I believe we’ve got everything prepared. We just need your signatures, Ellie—I mean, Elle.”
I refused to react to that name slip, even though my chest tightened in betrayal and muscle memory.
Mr. Howard stood, stacking his papers into a tidy folder with the air of someone who’d just checked a box. “Perfect. I’ll leave you to it then, Ms. Eaton.”
I blinked. “You’re leaving?”
“Afraid so. I’ve got a four-thirty appointment I can’t miss.” He offered me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry—I think you’re in good hands with Mr. Jackson.”
Oh, no. No, I was not in good hands. They were the worst hands imaginable. Hands that once knew exactly how to touch me. How to raise my skin. How to make me believe I belonged somewhere I didn’t.
“I’ll take good care of her,” Brady assured him.
Mr. Howard rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Excellent. If you need anything, Ms. Eaton, you have my card and cell number.”
I did need something. I needed to escape.
Brady walked him out and asked his executive assistant to bring in the paperwork prepared for me. Then he returned—slipping into Mr. Howard’s empty seat, settling beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A stack of documents appeared, delivered by his assistant with polite efficiency. She handed them to Brady and left quietly, closing the door behind her.
The click of the latch felt louder than it should.
And just like that, I was trapped.
Brady caught my eye and grinned, a little abashed.
I didn’t return it. All I wanted was to get this over with.
“You look fantastic, Ellie,” he offered, voice quiet.
“Mr. Jackson, can we please skip the niceties and just get on with it?” And why must he call me Ellie?
“Please—call me Brady.”
I pulled my pen from my bag with clipped precision. “Tell me where to sign.”
He studied me for a moment, as if searching for the girl he used to know. Then he began arranging the documents across his desk. Each one was neatly marked with signature tabs—efficient, yet impersonal.
I began signing. One after the other. It felt like it was all I’d done all day.
As I moved to the next page, his voice cut gently into the silence.
“How’s your aunt?”
Of course, he knew she was in the hospital. Everyone in Kaysville probably did.
I didn’t even bother to look up at him as I wrote out my signature for the hundredth time that day. The sooner I could get out of there, the better. “Feisty. She’s driving the doctors and nurses crazy.”
Brady laughed a knowing laugh. He, better than anyone, knew how feisty she could be. “How long will you be in town?”
I gave in and glanced his way. That was a big mistake. While he was older and even more attractive now, he was still Brady. The Brady I fell in love with. The Brady who shattered my heart. And I could still feel the sting of it all.
I turned back to the paperwork. “Hopefully not long.”
“Are you staying at your aunt’s house?”
