Page 78 of The Rules We Broke
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.
