Johanna #2
“Johanna…” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. “This is—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. I can see it all over his face.
“It’s real,” I finish for him.
He nods slowly. “Yeah, it is.”
He takes a step closer to the bed, setting the magazine back on the nightstand before pushing my sketchbook and pencils aside so he can sit with me. I shift over to make room, and the second he’s there, his arms wrap around me as I curl into his side.
“Well,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now, “we’re going, right? This is a big deal, Hurricane.”
My heart swells—in the very best way.
In my whole life, I’ve never been part of a we before. It’s always just been me, myself, and I, but now I have someone who will never let me do the big things alone.
“When is it?” he asks, absent-mindedly twisting a strand of my hair around his finger.
“It’s two weeks from Saturday,” I sigh.
He stills—just for a second. It’s subtle, but I feel it.
“I know,” I continue, because I’m certain I already know where his mind has gone. “I don’t know if that’s enough time for me to pull together five pieces worthy of a Paris runway.”
“No, it’s not that,” Brandon says quickly. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. It’s just…”
He trails off. This time, the hesitation doesn’t feel so small.
“What?” I ask, pulling back just enough to see his face fully.
Brandon exhales slowly, like he’s trying to figure out how to say it without making something worse.
“The label finalized the date for the preview show today,” he says. “I was planning to tell you tonight.”
My stomach plummets.
“When?”
I feel stupid for asking, because I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
“Two weeks from Friday,” he says carefully.
Yep. Exactly what I thought.
“So it’s the same weekend as the showcase,” I mutter. “And with the time difference… got it.”
Silence settles between us, heavy and unwanted, because now all the excitement we’d had about supporting each other has vanished. We can’t be in two places at once, and now there’s a choice to be made.
“You’re sure Jake can’t get them to move it?” I ask, and I hate how much it sounds like begging.
“I wish he could, baby,” Brandon says, his voice soft but firm.
“Scheduling is different now that we’re signed—the venue, the press, the label…
they handle everything. We don’t really get a say.
” He shakes his head, frustration flickering across his face.
“If I’d known about the showcase earlier, I could’ve told them that date was off limits, but now… ”
I nod slowly, trying to process what he’s saying. Trying to make it make sense.
“So…” I swallow. “What does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer right away, because he knows I’m not going to like his response.
“It means I have to be here,” he says finally.
I’ve known that since the moment he said the date—of course he has to play the show. Catastrophically Charismatic isn’t just what he does, it’s who he is. I’d never want to take that away from him.
But there’s a small voice whispering in the back of my mind saying, this… this could be who I am, too.
“So, you’re going to stay in LA and play the show,” I say slowly, each word feeling heavier than the last.
And I’m going to go to Paris alone.
He shifts closer, reaching for me instinctively—but I move first, sliding back just enough that his hand falls short.
“Baby, you won’t have to go alone,” he says quickly in an attempt to recover, to try to reassure me. “I’m sure Mia and the other girls will—”
“It’s fine,” I say, cutting him off, even though nothing about this feels fine at all. “The show’s important. You shouldn’t miss it.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice filled with remorse. “What you’re doing is important, too. Of course I want to be there. I just—I don’t have a choice here, Jo. I play or I get fired.”
I stay silent, because I don’t know how to argue with that without coming off like an insecure brat.
“I just thought…” I murmur, looking right into his eyes. “I thought when something like this finally happened for me, you’d be there.”
His shoulders tense.
“Look, this is a shitty situation all around,” he says. “I’m not super thrilled you’re going to miss my show, and I can’t imagine not being there to watch your dreams come true, either. The timing just sucks.”
I blink, because yet again Brandon Jackson has rendered me speechless. I hadn’t considered I would be missing a big moment in his life, too.
“We’ve been working on some of the best music we’ve ever made, and I—” He exhales, closing his eyes. “I really wanted you there to hear it, Jo. I wanted to be able to look over in the wings and see you there as my girlfriend for the first time, cheering me on like Mia does for Gray.”
The honesty behind what he’s saying hits deep in my core.
Yeah, I’ve been to shows before, but he’s right—this one wouldn’t be the same. After all the time we spent pretending not to notice each other during the last tour, I understand why this is so important to him now. This time, I wouldn’t be there as Grayson’s sister anymore. I’d be there as his.
“This was all supposed to be different,” he adds.
My chest tightens—because I know exactly what he means.
“I don’t want to go to Paris without you,” I say finally. “But I don’t want to give it up.”
His eyes soften immediately.
“I know, baby,” he replies. “I don’t want to do the show without you, either. I don’t want to think about you in Paris without me. I’m just… stuck.”
This time, when he reaches for me, I don’t pull away—I let him. I shift closer, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as his fingers move gently through my hair.
For a moment—it almost feels okay. Like we can pretend this isn’t happening.
“What are we gonna do?” I mumble against him.
There’s a long pause. I know he’s trying to think of something comforting to say, but instead—
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
I nod even though he can’t see it—even though I don’t really agree. There’s just nothing left to argue.
Nothing left to fix.
We sit there for another moment before he presses a soft kiss on top of my head.
“I’m going to finish getting ready for bed,” he says. “Be right back.”
He slides off the mattress, and I move automatically—putting my sketchbook and pencils away, smoothing out the bedding like if I make everything look normal, it might start to feel that way again.
It doesn’t.
I crawl back into bed, turning off the lamp before rolling onto my side, my back to the middle of the mattress.
A few minutes later, the lights click off completely, and I feel him slide in behind me.
His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back into him.
His chin rests against my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.
“I’m right here, Hurricane,” he murmurs into the darkness. “No matter how far apart we are, I’m always going to be here for you.”
“I know,” I whisper—but his presence and his words, no matter how sweet, don’t make this feel any better.
We fit together. We always have, but tonight, something’s off.
There’s still something unsettled lingering between us, and it’s impossible to completely ignore as much as we both wish we could.
Neither of us says anything else, because I think we both know—we’re not okay right now and for the first time since we’ve found our way back to each other, we don’t know how to fix it.