CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Brandon
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Brandon
“ARE YOU GONNA BE MY GIRL” — JET
Present Day
It’s Sunday afternoon.
The weather is gorgeous—clear skies, warm LA sun, and just enough breeze to make sitting outside with a cold beer feel like the only viable plan for the day.
Unless—
You’ve just spent the night with your best friend’s sister, and now you’re trying like hell to figure out how to tell him history is repeating itself.
I spot them near the back of the brewery’s outdoor seating area, gathered around one of the fire pits.
Tony’s halfway out of his chair, mid-story, arms flailing around like he’s reenacting something unnecessarily dramatic.
Eric is stretched out beside him, hands tucked behind his head, completely relaxed in his patio lounger—half-listening to the story at best.
Grayson’s there, too—sitting back in his chair with his sunglasses on and a beer in hand. He looks far too relaxed for someone who may or may not know every detail of what I was up to last night.
I hesitate for half a second before walking over, not ready to ruin the vibe with my presence. We’ve known each other far too long—if he doesn’t already, Grayson will know something’s different before I even sit down.
Before I step off the patio, I pause to exchange a few quick texts with Johanna to make sure she’s surviving her brunch.
Rylee’s giving her trouble, but I knew she would.
After giving her permission to put my sister in her place if she needs to, I slip my phone into my back pocket and head over to sit with the guys.
“—and then the guy has the audacity to say it wasn’t his fault!” Tony is saying as I approach, shaking his head like the world is ending.
“Shocking,” Eric mutters, as if he’s heard ten different versions of this story within the last twenty-four hours.
Tony points at him, not registering his disinterest in the slightest. “Exactly!”
I pull out one of the chairs and drop into it.
“Finally.” Tony grins. “An honorable man to settle this debate.”
“This feels like a trap.”
“It’s not a—”
“Where were you, anyway?” Grayson cuts in.
Just like that. Straight to the fucking point.
“We’ve been here for at least twenty minutes,” he adds. “As you can tell, Tony’s already had two beers.”
“Rookie numbers,” Tony mumbles.
I grab the pitcher of beer sitting on the table and pour some into the remaining empty glass, taking a long sip before answering.
“Got a late start this morning,” I say, somehow keeping my voice steady. “Someone had to make sure all our rooms were cleared out at the hotel.”
It’s the truth—or at the very least, close enough to it.
If Grayson knows where I really was—that I spent the night in his sister’s hotel room and not my own—he’s not giving anything away. He just keeps sipping on his beer like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Somehow, that feels worse.
“A real hero,” Tony says emphatically.
“Thank you,” I reply dryly.
Eric glances at me briefly, knowing better than to add anything to this already dangerous conversation. Thankfully, Tony jumps right back into whatever chaotic story he was telling before I arrived, almost like nothing happened.
Just like that, I’m off the hook—for now. I lean back in my chair, letting the noise of the busy patio settle around us. A soft-rock seventies playlist hums overhead as glasses clink and conversations blend together.
It’s easy.
Familiar.
“Alright,” Tony says a few moments later, pulling me out of my daze and abandoning his story entirely. “What are we doing next?”
“Like, today or—?” I start before Eric interrupts with a groan.
“Why do you always do this?”
“Because,” Tony says, like it should be obvious. “We signed a major record deal and no one is acting appropriately excited about it. I’m ready to get back in the studio now that the wedding is over.”
“I am excited,” Eric replies, although his voice doesn’t match the level of enthusiasm he’s claiming to have. “I just don’t feel the need to scream about it in public.”
Tony scoffs, but Grayson finally speaks again before he can say anything else.
“I had Jake book us some studio time at the end of the week,” he says.
I sit up a little straighter. This is news to me.
“Tony’s right—we don’t want to lose momentum,” he adds. “Especially if we want to tour again next year.”
“When were you planning to share that with the rest of us?” I ask, a little sharper than I intend. “I mean, what about your honeymoon?”
Grayson doesn’t hesitate. It’s as if he’s had this planned for months.
“I got us a room at the Four Seasons in Carlsbad for a couple nights,” he explains, glossing over my comment about his lack of communication skills. “We’ll leave later today and be back on Wednesday afternoon for our first studio session Thursday morning.”
“Mia’s cool with that?” Eric asks.
“I promised her a bigger trip when the album’s done,” Grayson replies. “She knows we only have one shot at this.”
Tony shakes his head. “She’s a saint.”
I stay quiet now, letting them bounce ideas back and forth about how to spend studio time and what our next tour would be like—the kind of things we’ve always built our lives around.
Taking another sip of my beer, I let the moment stretch.
Then it hits me—Grayson’s leaving.
He’ll be at the beach for a few days thinking about nothing but sunshine, margaritas, and his brand-new wife. The last thing he’ll be thinking about is what any of us are up to back here in LA.
A slow, unexpected calm washes over me as I realize the new window of opportunity I just gained.
For the first time since this morning, I don’t feel like I’m standing on the edge of something about to blow up. I’ve just been handed the time Johanna and I didn’t think we’d get—the chance to figure this out without anyone hovering over us.
Without Grayson watching our every move, or having to explain everything to him before we’re ready.
Now Rylee? That’s a different story—but handling my sister is a lot easier than handling Grayson.
My grip tightens around my glass as a different kind of anticipation settles in, because now I feel like I can finally breathe.
I just have to get back to her.