CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Johanna
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Johanna
“HURRICANE (REIMAGINED)” — I PREVAIL
Six Years Ago
I’m hiding.
I know I shouldn’t—it’s the absolute wrong thing to do, especially after I’d made such a huge deal of Grayson not being here when I’d arrived—but I can’t face him yet.
Grayson knows me too well. He’s the one person alive I’ve never been able to lie to. The minute he sees my face, he’ll know something’s off.
I can lie to our mom like it’s my job, but when our dad was still alive… I was a daddy’s girl through and through. I never needed to lie—I could do no wrong in his eyes. Honestly, I’ve never missed my dad more than I do right now.
He was complicated towards the end. He was high, low, high again… unpredictable. I don’t remember much of what he was like before the drugs and the alcohol took over—but even then, if he were here now, sober, I know exactly what he’d say to me.
Joey girl, follow your bliss. Fuck what your brother thinks, and live the life that makes you happy.
It’s like I can still hear his voice.
He’s been gone over a decade, but thanks to his old records and interviews with his band while they were at the height of fame, I won’t ever have to forget what he sounded like. The cadence. The warmth when he talked about things he loved. The way he smiled through certain words.
There’s one specific interview that I play on repeat—almost every morning while I get ready.
It was recorded just after I was born. When I’d gotten older and had a better understanding of what had been going on, my mom told me it was at a time before his addiction spiraled completely out of control.
It’s one of the few interviews where he talked about us—his family.
The interviewer asks, “Jonah, outside of music—what are you most proud of?”
Without hesitation, he replies:
“I don’t talk about them much—to protect them from this life they never signed up for, but—my wife, Angela, just had our second baby about a month ago.
My daughter, Johanna Rae Harris, was born in November.
I am so proud of the woman my wife is, of how she holds our family together while I’m on tour with the guys.
My son, Grayson, is four, and all he wants to do is play guitar just like Dad.
Now with Joey’s arrival, I feel like our family is complete.
As much as I love music, I long for the day I can just be a dad to my kids. ”
My mom played it for me for the first time when the nightmares wouldn’t subside after he died. Being able to hear his voice again had been all I needed—and I haven’t stopped listening to it since.
I sit on the edge of my bed, my phone warm in my palm, the echo of his words still lingering in the air.
I listen to the interview when I’m scared, when I’m tired, when I want an answer—when I just want my heart to stop hurting.
Maybe I’ve been na?ve to think that hearing his voice would always fix everything, because I still feel lost now.
The truth hasn’t changed—if my dad were here, he wouldn’t tell me to hide the way I feel. He’d want me to live my life out loud, the same way he did. Even during the last few months of his life, even at rock bottom, he still told my mom how much he loved her every day.
Be brave, Joey.
I’ve been brave. I’ve shown Brandon a side of myself I haven’t wanted to show anyone before. I don’t know why I’m so ashamed of it.
Brandon had said he’d tell Grayson—that he’d make sure none of the fallout would ever touch me. I know he meant for it to make me feel safe—protected—but the truth is, I don’t even know what there is to tell yet.
I can’t blow up my entire relationship with my only brother without fully understanding what’s happening between me and Brandon. I still can’t tell if this is just heat-filled desire with bad timing… or something deeper that I don’t know how to control.
The one thing I do know is, right now, silence feels safer than honesty.
By the time I finally retreat from my room and come down the hallway, the house smells like grease and soy sauce.
Plates clink, voices overlap, and music pulses low in the background. To anyone else, the scene would seem perfectly normal. It’s just another night in a house full of guys who don’t know what the word quiet means.
No one would ever notice the tension humming just beneath the surface.
All it would take to blow everything up would be one wrong move. One wrong word.
Snap.
Everything fragile and carefully contained would shatter, and I’m not sure who would survive the fallout.
I hover at the entrance to the kitchen, watching my brother interact with his friends and remain completely oblivious to everything he’d missed while he had been gone. Tony and Eric are putting on a good show—joking loudly, arguing over food, playing their parts.
They know more than they’re letting on. I’m sure of it.
They may act like idiots, but they’re not actually stupid. Anyone but my brother could cut the tension in this house with a knife.
“Joey,” Grayson says suddenly, finally pulling his attention from his giant plate of food to spot me. “There you are!”
My stomach tightens.
I heard his voice earlier, muffled through the walls while I hid in Brandon’s bathroom—but I haven’t actually seen Grayson until now.
He looks the same as I remember. His eyes are tired—a lot like my own—but he’s still relaxed, familiar, and completely at home in this space. Like he hasn’t just walked into a house on the verge of imploding.
“Hey,” I say, forcing myself into the room.
Grayson stands and crosses the room, pulling me into a hug. As his arms wrap around me, his back blocks the rest of the room from view. My eyes lift just past his shoulder and lock with Brandon’s.
Something unspoken passes between us. Not relief, not guilt… just awareness.
Reassurance, maybe?
“I’m glad you’re here,” Grayson says. “I’ve been back for a few hours—where have you been hiding? Thought you’d be more excited to see me after the fit you threw about me not being here when you arrived.”
I pull back carefully, schooling my expression into something easy—something I hope looks normal.
“I, uh—” My voice betrays me, and I pray he doesn’t notice the heat flooding to my cheeks as my stomach drops.
“You okay?” Grayson says, his eyes narrowing. “You look sick.”
Better that than the truth.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, forcing a short laugh. “Just starving. I had a shoot this morning, so I’ve barely eaten all day.”
It’s mostly true. I am starving, and I know there’s crab rangoon on that table.
“A shoot?” Grayson asks. “How’d you get there? You didn’t invite yourself to drive my car, did you?”
I roll my eyes, but before I can answer—
“I took her,” Brandon says without ever taking his attention off his plate.
Grayson turns to face the rest of the group, and from my spot behind him, I can tell Tony and Eric are subtly bracing themselves for his response.
“Oh,” he says easily with a shrug. “Thanks, man. I knew I could trust you to look out for her while I was gone.”
Eric clears his throat. “Jo, come sit down and fix a plate before Tony eats everything.”
“Too late,” Tony says through a mouthful of noodles.
Grayson snorts. “Did you even chew that?”
He’s distracted again, and just like that, the spotlight shifts off me.
I finally take a seat at the table, my heart still racing as I busy myself with food that should taste better than it does. Across from me, Brandon keeps his focus on the guys and their continued antics.
The distance is deliberate.
Necessary.
Somehow, however—it hurts more than I expect it to.