CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Johanna
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Johanna
“DRAG ME DOWN” — LOVELESS
Six Years Ago
Iwake up to shouting.
When my eyes blink open, the first hints of morning light barely peek through the windows.
Is it possible that I’ve only slept for an hour or two?
This house is always loud, but even when I’ve been woken up by the guys yelling, it hasn’t sounded like this.
Angry.
Sharp.
Explosive.
I rub the heel of my palm against my eyes slowly as I push myself upright against the pillows, disoriented. My heart is already racing before I know why.
What the hell happened last night?
I drag my hair away from my face, trying to force my brain to catch up.
The show.
Brandon’s song.
The way the entire room disappeared the second he and Grayson started singing it—like every lyric was meant for me and me alone. The warmth that spread through my chest when I realized everything he was feeling but never felt like he could say.
Suddenly, my reminiscing is interrupted by the sound of my name.
“She’s my sister, Brandon!”
Every ounce of sleep evaporates from my body—I’m fully awake now.
Fuck. That’s right.
Grayson saw us last night.
Saw me all tangled up with Brandon after he’d pulled me away from the drunken idiot trying to make a pass at me at the bar.
The whole thing was stupid—and I knew better. I knew Grayson would be there. I knew I should’ve kept my distance.
I toss the covers back and slide out of bed, heading for the hallway. I’m nosey—always have been, and in this particular case, I absolutely need to know what they’re saying. I need to know how bad this is.
I stop just before the entrance to the kitchen and hide myself behind the wall.
“Come on, Grayson,” Brandon says. “You’re going to fire me because we’re having a disagreement? Because your sister made a choice you don’t like?”
The words hit like a punch straight through my chest.
Fire him?
I knew he’d be mad—but kick Brandon out of Catastrophically Charismatic?
Grayson wouldn’t.
Tony and Eric wouldn’t let him.
Then—
“It’s my voice people know,” Grayson says coldly. “I can find another bassist.”
I feel like I could throw up. Nausea boils in my stomach so fast I have to grip the edge of the wall to keep myself upright.
“You won’t,” Brandon says, but I can tell he doesn’t fully believe it.
“Want to find out?” Grayson snaps. “Keep fooling around with my sister, and you will.”
I stop breathing. Literally all the air has left my lungs.
Fooling around?
Is that Grayson’s assessment of the situation—or is that what Brandon told him it was?
The thought burns a hole through my heart. I don’t know what I thought we were doing either, but if that’s how Brandon is describing it—
Maybe I misunderstood.
I really hope I didn’t.
“You crossed a line,” Grayson says, the edge in his voice unmistakable.
“So did you,” Brandon fires back.
Suddenly, the unspoken part of the conversation is painfully obvious.
If this keeps going—Brandon loses the band. Loses the reputation he’s worked so hard to build. Loses the chance to be something beyond the trust fund baby everyone assumes he is. I would be the reason he loses everything—and I don’t know if I can live with that.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I step into the kitchen, ready to hang myself out to dry. Both of them freeze at the sight of me, but Brandon turns first. The moment he sees me, the anger and intensity drain from his face and concern covers his features instead.
“Johanna—”
Grayson’s head snaps towards me a second later.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he demands. “This doesn’t involve you.”
I scoff at the irony.
“Like hell it doesn’t.”
They stare at me in anticipation.
“I started it,” I continue, forcing my words out before either of them can protest. “Brandon didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me you should be mad at, Gray.”
“Johanna—” Brandon says again, sharply this time—because he knows that’s not at all how it happened.
“Don’t,” I cut him off.
I can’t look at him. If I do, I might crumble.
“So, you’ve got her trained to rescue you now,” Grayson says, letting out a bitter laugh. “That’s convenient.”
“I’m not rescuing anybody,” I snap. “I’m just trying to tell you the truth if you’d stop implying I’m someone’s fucking dog.”
Brandon steps forward, placing himself between me and Grayson, his eyes locking on mine.
“Stop,” he murmurs. “I told you, I’ll handle this. Please let me.”
“No,” I say firmly.
I move Brandon aside and face my brother head on.
“Grayson, this has absolutely nothing to do with the band,” I tell him. “Brandon hasn’t been chasing me around. I’m the one who pursued him.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” Brandon mutters.
“Then your memory’s wrong,” I snap again.
His eyes widen. Not out of shock, and certainly not because I’m all that convincing, but because he knows exactly what I’m doing.
Grayson crosses his arms across his chest, watching the two of us dance around each other like it’s some twisted form of entertainment.
“You expect me to believe that?” he asks.
“What reason do you have not to?”
“You really just couldn’t help yourself?” he scoffs.
Heat creeps up my neck as Brandon cuts in, “That’s not what happened.”
I whirl towards him.
“Why are you still talking?” I whisper harshly.
“Because you’re lying, and you shouldn’t have to.”
“I’m fixing it,” I push. “Why won’t you just let me?”
“You’re not fixing anything.”
“Don’t destroy yourself for me,” I say quietly. “Please.”
He falls silent, but the look on his face—
God.
It almost breaks me.
Grayson notices it, too—of course. His jaw tightens further.
“We’ve been killing ourselves to build this band,” he says, gesturing between himself and Brandon as he glares at him. “If you want to throw it all away over my twenty-year-old sister who’s never had a real relationship in her life, so be it.”
Brandon lunges forward, ready to come to blows, but I place myself firmly between them.
“Move,” Brandon says, his face red and fists clenched so tight his knuckles are turning white.
“No,” I insist.
“Johanna, I’m not going to say it again,” he grits out. “Move, so I can punch your brother in his stupid face for talking about you like that.”
Grayson jolts forward this time, and I throw my arm out to stop him, too.
“Both of you, sit the fuck down right now,” I order. “I will not have a barroom brawl in this kitchen before we’ve even had breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Grayson scoffs. “This isn’t about who makes better French toast, Johanna.”
“No,” I fire back. “Apparently, it’s about you two deciding who gets to act like the bigger idiot!”
Brandon tries to step around me again, but I’m faster.
“Try that again, and it’s me you’ll be punching,” I warn.
He stares at me, fighting himself, but I know he’s backing down. Grayson watches us intently—watches the hold I have over his bandmate.
“Look at that,” he mutters. “Already choosing a side.”
I roll my eyes. “No one’s choosing sides. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re delusional if you think that’s true.”
Brandon shifts again beside me. “I swear to God, Gray—”
“What?” he challenges. “What are you gonna do?”
I turn sharply.
“Enough.”
My voice echoes against the walls like the remnants of a gunshot. For the first time, their eyes are on me and they actually shut up. I can’t take any more of this, and I know the only way it will truly end is if I’m the one who does it.
“It didn’t even mean anything to me, Grayson.”
Brandon stills at the sound of my voice, unable to move, and Grayson’s eyes flicker with intrigue.
“What?” Brandon asks quietly.
I force myself to look up at him, even though it feels like I’m standing in front of a firing squad.
“It’s not worth it,” I say, shrugging like the words don’t feel like a slice straight down my chest. “I was just having fun being away from school and Mom.”
The silence that follows is suffocating—because it’s not true. I’m just saying what Grayson already thinks about me.
Brandon stares at me like he’s waiting for the punchline, like surely I can’t be serious.
“It is worth it,” he says finally. “You know it is.”
It’s almost like he’s begging me. Begging me to see the light.
He told me this wouldn’t touch me—that he’d handle Grayson—but we both see how well that’s going. Grayson will accept us when hell freezes over, and I won’t make Brandon fight for us, even though I know he will.
I force the connection between us to break and look to my brother instead.
“It doesn’t matter,” I force out. “He can stay in the band, Grayson. Just forget this ever happened.”
Brandon slams his fist down on the counter beside him, frustration flashing across his face.
He doesn’t say anything else.
Doesn’t look at me again.
Just grabs his keys from the bowl by the door to the garage and storms out.
The whole frame of the house rattles as the door slams and Grayson gives me a smug look that can only say, I won.
“Sounds like the problem solved itself,” he mutters. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I stare down at the tile floor, memorizing the patterns for something to keep my eyes busy.
Because if I look up—if I let Grayson see my face right now—he’ll know the show I just put on. He’ll know I just destroyed everything on purpose.
The ball’s already rolling, and I can’t let anyone stop me now.
I’ll do anything for Brandon to have his dream—even if it means he can’t have the one that includes me.
I’ve hidden in the safety of my room for the rest of the day.
There’s been movement in the house—the sound of footsteps down the hall, muffled sounds of the TV in the living room—but it’s definitely more quiet than usual. Like everyone knows a bomb detonated in the kitchen this morning and no one’s quite sure how much damage it caused.
The afternoon seems to stretch on forever. Every time I hear a door open or a car pull into the driveway, my heart jumps into my throat.
I keep expecting Brandon to come back. Burst through the door and demand an explanation—make me take back the things I said that I didn’t even mean to begin with.
He doesn’t.
Eventually, the light outside my window softens into an early evening glow, and I glance at my phone on the nightstand. It’s just before five—which means it’s about eight in Maine.
My chest tightens as I pick up the phone, knowing there’s only one person I can call to get me out of this—and she’s also the one person I was hoping I wouldn’t have to talk to all summer.
I dial before I can talk myself out of it, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Johanna?” my mom says immediately. “Is everything okay?”
I know she’s really asking about Grayson, but I ignore it.
This is about me.
“I need to come home,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line.
“Is LA not everything you thought it would be?” she asks.
It’s the opposite, really—LA is more than I thought it would be.
I came here prepared to hate the sunshine and silicone and I’m preparing to leave something I never expected to find.
“LA is… fine,” I force out quickly. “I just think… it’s not where I need to be right now.”
Another pause, because she knows I’m not telling her everything. She won’t force the issue now, but she surely will the moment I step off the tarmac.
“Your room is exactly how you left it, baby,” she says. “You can always come home.”
I close my eyes.
Yeah.
That’s the problem.
If I go home now, I’m losing something I may never get back.