27. Brody
Brody
After two very long weeks of sleeping on the couch, Jaxon isn’t the only one in need of physiotherapy. Unfortunately, I’m the only physiotherapist in town, and working on yourself is a special kind of torture. A contortionist, I am not.
I haven’t seen much of Jami beyond our daily practices.
She’s been running herself ragged—yoga at dawn, sewing late into the night.
We even built her a rack at the front of the store to sell her merch.
Add childcare to the list, and as of last night, the news that her apartment is finally ready. She can move out today.
As I roll off the couch, groaning while I shove myself upright, the conversation from the night Jaxon came home from Lab City loops through my mind.
Jesus, I wanted to ask her to stay.
Not just stay—move here for good. Live with me. Hell, Jaxon can find his own place.
But I didn’t say it. I couldn’t. I won’t ask her to stay only to regret it later. I’ve personally seen what regret does to people in this town. It makes them leave. And if she stayed because I nudged, persuaded, or boxed her in…that ends the same way.
The decision has to be hers.
“Morning,” Jaxon says as he comes down the stairs. “Bet you’re happy this is your last night on the couch.”
“You got that right.” Though when I get back to my bed, I know exactly who I’ll wish was in it with me. Not something I can say to Jaxon.
“Coffee?” he asks.
“Strong.”
He nods toward the stairs. “Go shower. I’ll make breakfast.”
With my muscles protesting every step, I lumber upstairs and push open my bedroom door. Jami’s things are boxed. She must’ve packed up and left the house early, like she has every morning this week. I dimly remember hearing the door close.
Tonight’s my birthday, Ma’s got a celebration planned, and at the very least I’ll get to spend some time with Jami. I can’t touch her, but later…she might need help settling into her new apartment.
I shower fast, pull on pants and a button-down, and head back downstairs feeling marginally less ancient. In the kitchen, Jaxon butters toast and slides a generous heap of scrambled eggs onto a plate before setting it in front of me.
“Thanks.” He turns back to grab his own plate. “You’re wielding those crutches like a pro,” I tell him.
“I’ll be glad to be off them.”
“Soon.” His physio and strength classes are going well, though he’s pushing harder than I’d like. But this is Jaxon. If the roles were reversed, I’d probably be doing the same damn thing.
He sits across from me, stares into his coffee for a long moment, then says, “I think Jami’s been working too hard.”
My hand stills, fork hovering inches from my mouth. “I think she’s just trying to find herself. Find her purpose so she can get back on her feet.”
“What does back on her feet look like?” he asks, his brow furrowing. Before I can answer, he continues, “She’s gone before I wake up and doesn’t come home until after I’m asleep. She seems…scattered. Pulled in too many directions.” He hesitates. “I worry she’s running from something. Again.”
My stomach coils as I drop my gaze.
Running from something.
Again.
Could it be me?
Is she running from whatever it is we’ve been quietly building? Ending it before it can ask anything of her? Because…she doesn’t want to make a life here?
When I look up, Jaxon is watching me carefully. “She doesn’t always make the best decisions when she’s scattered,” he tells me, voice serious, eyes full of concern, and something else…something I can’t quite read.
My mind retreats to the night I met her at the pub. She’d been scattered that night too, running from her ex’s betrayal.
And what did she do?
She slept with me.
She doesn’t always make the best decisions when she’s scattered.
“I think she’s feeling a little lost,” Jaxon adds.
Fuck.
Maybe I should have asked her to stay. Maybe that’s what she was looking for—something solid, something certain.
But what if she regrets it? She wants to be a famous fashion designer.
She wants to make her mark. I don’t know much about production or buyers or the business, but I do know that kind of dream usually lives in big cities—not places like this.
Fuckidy fuck fuck fuck.
“Eggs okay?”
“Yeah. Why?” I glance down at my fork, still frozen midair.
“You’re not eating.” I shove the eggs into my mouth, chewing quickly as he watches me. Then he asks, softer now, “You think she’s okay?”
“She will be,” I say, because I honestly don’t know what else to say. Whatever’s going on with her, it’s clear we need to talk. Tonight—after the party. I’ll take her to her new apartment, help her get settled, and then we’ll finally have the heart-to-heart we’ve been skirting for weeks.
I check the time. “We better get going. I’ve got a client in twenty minutes.”
I stand and slide my plate into the dishwasher. After he finishes his last bite, I clean up behind him. Ten minutes later, we’re stepping into the social when Jaxon grabs my arm.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs.
“What?”
He juts his chin toward the racks. “Do you know who that is?”
I follow his gaze to a woman about Jami’s age and build, calmly flipping through Jami’s designs with one hand, her phone in the other.
“That’s Nicola Fairfax,” Jaxon says. “From the Wild Games series.”
Holy crap. “What is she doing here?” I ask, echoing Jaxon’s stunned tone as my eyes sweep the room, already searching for Jami.
“Hi,” Nicola says cheerfully, clearly unfazed by our staring. She pulls a pair of yoga pants from the rack. “These are so cute.” She takes a picture of them.
“The designer—” I start, then fumble. Apparently this is how I behave when encountering a famous movie star. “She works here.”
“She’s my sister,” Jaxon says proudly.
Nicola’s eyebrows lift. “Oh! I’d love to meet her. Are these available in stores?” She snaps another picture.
“Not yet,” I say quickly. “Soon.”
“Well, I’ll grab these for now.” She adds a matching tank to the pile and heads toward the counter.
“My husband’s fishing at Lobstick,” she explains, clearly reading the question on our faces.
“Fishing isn’t my thing, so I came to check out the social.
Theresa—the hotel manager—told me about this place. ”
“She’s my aunt,” I blurt.
Nicola grins. “Small town.” Her smile is dazzling as she glances at the posted yoga schedule. “Do you think I could join a class on such short notice?”
“I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem,” Jaxon says. “There’s one starting in about ten minutes.”
Right on cue, I spot Jami and wildly wave my arms.
“That’s Jami, my sister,” Jaxon explains and points. “She also teaches yoga.”
Jami hesitates when she sees me—which sends a shard of worry straight through my chest—but then her gaze lands on Nicola. Her eyes go wide when she notices the clothes in Nicola’s hands. Jesus, she looks like she might actually faint.
She hurries over and I rush through the introductions.
“Jami, I love your designs,” Nicola says warmly. “Pickle Ball Falls?” She laughs. “Look how cute the pickle is.”
“Thank you,” Jami says, barely breathing.
Nicola leans in. “Would it be too much to ask if I joined your next class?”
“No,” Jami blurts. “I—I have room.”
“Perfect.” Nicola smiles and sets the clothes on the counter.
“I’ll just pay and change.” She hesitates and gives her phone a little shake.
“Would you mind taking a photo together afterward? I heard these might be available in stores soon, and I have friends who would adore them.” She rubs the fabric between her fingers. “They feel incredible.”
Jami blinks rapidly, like a caribou caught in headlights. “I…would love that.”
Nicola pays quickly and disappears into the changing room.
“What just happened?” Jami whispers, turning to me. “Wait, did she say these were going to be available in stores?”
“Sorry,” I say. “I panicked.” Then softer, “But that is your dream, right?”
She laughs, breathless. “Unless a production team and a buyer magically appear, I don’t see how.”
I tip her chin up and grin. “Hey. What happened to dreaming big?”
She exhales, shaking her head. “That’ll have to wait. I need to freshen my face and comb my hair if I’m getting my picture taken with Nicola Fairfax.”
“Nicola who?”
I turn to see Elise. No clue how long she’d been standing there.
“Nicola Fairfax,” I explain, giving the quick lowdown on her husband fishing while Jaxon heads to the smoothie counter.
“Nicola Fairfax,” Elise repeats, glancing down, lost in thought. “That’s… perfect,” I think I hear her mutter. Christ, I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Maybe she’s thinking about showing Nicola some of her costume designs. Is that what’s on her mind?
“So, your big party is tonight?” she asks.
Ah. So no, it’s my party that’s on her mind.
“I don’t want a big party. Just family and a few friends.” She pouts a little, as I glance at my watch. “I have to run, appointment.”
As I make my way to my office, I hope, really hope, she isn’t planning something outrageous. I just want a quiet night with the people I love.
Love.
Yeah. I’m in love, and I have absolutely no clue what to do about it.
My first patient is waiting. We dive into work. The day spins by—appointments, pickleball practice with Jami, my phone pinging endlessly with birthday wishes.
By the time darkness falls, I go in search of Jami. She’s gone. Probably back at my place, double-checking she’s packed everything for the move.
At the front, I find Jaxon. “Ready to call it a day?”
“You bet, buddy.” He glances around. “Jami gone?”
“Seems that way.”
“She was so excited getting her picture taken with Nicola. Look at this.” He holds up his phone, and my jaw drops. Nicola’s post is blowing up—millions of views.
“How does she have a million views already?”
Jaxon grins. “Read the comments.”
I scan them. “Jesus…this could be huge for her new line.” Jaxon nods, but there’s a flicker of worry behind his eyes. “What?”
His frown deepens. “She’s clearly had fun making the clothes for the club.”
“And?”