Page 47 of The Rules We Broke
Bonehead? Who even used that word anymore?
I glanced at Brady, curious. “Oh, really? And why was that, Brady Jackson?”
Brady just grinned. The kind of grin that could unravel a decade of resolve.
“I voted for you for prom queen,” Dave said.
Weird.
“How nice,” I replied. “But that was a long time ago.”
“It wasn’t that long ago,” they both said, in perfect sync.
Bizarre.
Thankfully, we reached my car before things could get any weirder.
“Sweet ride,” Dave said, eyeing the sleek lines of the gift I’d recently given myself.
“Thanks.”
Brady wasn’t interested in the car. Not surprisingly—trucks were more his language. He ignored Dave entirely, walked up to me, and kissed my cheek like it was the most natural thing to do. It used to be.
Instinctively, I reached up and touched it. The warmth his lips always brought lingered there.
He noticed—and smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how he made me feel. “By the way,” he said, “I voted for you for prom queen, too. I’ll see you later, Ellie.”
I was too stunned to respond. Brady voted for me for prom queen? What about Amber?
He walked away as if he’d just won something.
Dave watched him retreat, then turned to me, eyes full of curiosity. “Are yousureyou two aren’t together?”
I dropped my hand from my cheek, trying to slow my pulse. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Pretty sure.
Chapter Eight
Iperchedontheedge of Aunt Lu’s hospital bed, recapping my strange morning at church while the news droned on in the background. Auburn football—her sacred liturgy—was already in full swing.
When I mentioned accepting a dinner invitation to Benjamin and Kendra Jackson’s home, I braced myself. I expected outrage. Fury. Some dramatic retelling of rule violations.
She gave me none of that.
“Am I missing something?” I asked, suspicious.
She shot me a sideways glance that said,What do you think?but still refused to elaborate.
“Do you know Benjamin and Kendra well?” I pressed.
Her smile turned mischievous. She was up to something. Definitely odd behavior—even for Aunt Lu.
“And did you really mean to have Benjamin and Brady on your Christmas list?”
She sat up straighter, smoothing her pajama top like she was about to host the evening news. “Yes, of course.”
“Of course?” I echoed. “Why?”
