Chapter 18
Eighteen
Swayze
I stared in shock at my big brother, who definitely ought to be in New York right now, as he grinned at me with that familiar mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
He shut the car door with a soft click and offered an insouciant shrug, spreading his hands wide in a gesture that was pure JP. “Surprise?”
I was running for him before I could even process the movement, my feet carrying me down the porch steps without conscious thought.
Part of it was because I adored my brother—always had, always would—but if I was being honest with myself, I also wanted to put a little distance between me and Colter.
He looked so tired and confused standing there on my porch, and some traitorous part of me wanted to soothe and tend him, to smooth away the lines of worry etched around his eyes and make him feel better from whatever burden he’d been carrying.
That gentle, nurturing impulse scared me more than I wanted to admit, because that was not my role in his life. That was Lisa’s job, not mine.
JP caught me on the fly, his strong arms wrapping around me as he swung me around in a tight hug that I’d needed almost more than my next breath.
I buried my nose in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of Tom Ford’s Oud Wood—that ridiculously expensive cologne he’d been wearing for years—and held on tight.
I had about a million questions rattling around in my brain, but for the moment, I just wanted to bask in the comfort of family, in the solid presence of someone who knew me inside and out.
“God, it’s good to see you,” I mumbled against his cashmere sweater.
He pressed a kiss to my temple, warm and reassuring, then set me on my feet with the careful grace of someone who’d spent decades on stage.
His hands lingered on my shoulders as he gave me a once-over with the practiced eye of an older brother who’d been looking out for me since I was born.
Then he looked past me to where Colter still stood awkwardly on the porch, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
JP’s eyebrow lifted in a way that told me he was cataloging everything and filing it away for later interrogation. “Am I interrupting something?”
That single arched brow asked at least a dozen questions I absolutely did not want to answer. Not now and possibly not ever.
“You are not,” I said firmly, stepping back to create some distance. “This is my neighbor and landlord, Colter Gibson. Colter, my brother, JP.”
The incitement of social niceties kicked Colter into gear. He crossed over to us with those long strides of his and offered a handshake, his posture straightening into something more formal. “Nice to meet you.”
My brother took it, his grip firm and assessing in that way big brothers had perfected over millennia of evaluating potential threats to their sisters. “Likewise.”
Colter jerked a thumb toward his own door, already backing away as if he couldn’t escape fast enough. “I’m just gonna get out of your way. Have a good visit.”
I still had absolutely no idea what the hell he’d come over for in the first place, but right now, I was perfectly content with his retreat. I needed space to think, and I definitely needed space from the confusing tangle of feelings he inspired.
I looped my arm through JP’s, steering him toward my door. “Come on.”
He followed me into the apartment and shut the door with a decisive click behind us. The moment we were alone, he turned to me with a knowing grin. “Your landlord is hot.”
Ignoring that entirely too accurate observation, I folded my arms across my chest and fixed him with my sternest look—the one that had never actually worked on him in twenty-eight years.
“Have you been sent by the family reconnaissance team? Or did you just decide it was a good time for a surprise visit? Because last time I checked, you’re supposed to be getting ready for tonight’s performance right about now.
Don’t you have a curtain call at eight?”
“I have not been sent,” he assured me, his expression sobering as he met my eyes. “I wanted to see my baby sister and have a proper catch-up, because I think we both have things we haven’t been telling each other.”
He knew. Maybe not everything, but something.
Which wasn’t exactly a surprise when I really thought about it.
I was close to both of my siblings, but JP was my person, my confidant, despite the fifteen-year age gap that meant he’d been changing my diapers when he was a teenager.
He kept an eye on me, always, even if from a distance spanning half the globe.
And even if I hadn’t made any kind of public statement about my current situation, my social media presence had gone from vibrant and constant to radio silence.
JP was bound to have noticed that my accounts were gone.
But as my brain rapidly processed all of that information, I also noted the fine lines of strain around his eyes, the shadows beneath them that stage makeup usually hid.
He hadn’t been sleeping well—I saw the signs.
So perhaps this visit wasn’t entirely about him being worried about me. Maybe he had his own demons to outrun.
“That sounds ominous,” I observed carefully, studying his face.
“Put on the kettle while I bring in my bag from the car, and then we’ll talk,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later we’d settled on opposite ends of the sofa, our legs stretched out across the middle.
The electric fireplace flickered with its fake but cozy flames, casting dancing shadows across the small living room as we each clutched oversized mugs of the chamomile tea blend I’d picked up at Mind Your Beeswax for emotional emergencies.
JP sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. “In the spirit of full disclosure and sibling honesty, I’ll go first.”
“Good.” I wrapped both hands around my mug and savored the warmth. “Because I really want to know what you’re actually doing here, and I know you well enough to guess there’s more to it than just missing me.”
“Diego and I broke up.”
My mouth fell open, the tea nearly sloshing over the rim of my mug.
JP had been with Diego Reyes for more than seven years.
I’d thought they were absolutely endgame.
The real deal. The couple who’d make it against all odds.
They were both in the theater, so they understood the insane lifestyle and brutal hours.
They’d weathered touring productions, conflicting rehearsal schedules, and all the drama that came with two strong personalities in a competitive field.
I set my mug down on the coffee table before I dropped it. “What happened?”
He shook his head, his jaw tightening in a way that told me the wound was still fresh and raw.
“I don’t want to get into all the gory details of that particular disaster just now, but suffice it to say I needed a serious change of scenery, and I missed you.
Granted, I was expecting to be going to London or Sydney or somewhere exotic and far away.
I most definitely did not expect to discover that my globetrotting sister is currently residing a stone’s throw from home. What’s that about?”
I reclaimed my mug and took a fortifying sip of tea, letting the warmth slide down my throat as I gathered my courage. I needed to talk to someone about all of this mess, and JP wouldn’t judge me. He’d seen me at my absolute worst and loved me anyway.
“I have been cancelled.” I watched his face for his reaction.
The mug hovered a few inches from his mouth, suspended in mid-air as he processed my words. “You what now?”
“My whole brand has always been built around supporting good causes and partnering with companies that aligned with my ethics and values,” I explained, the familiar bitterness rising in my throat.
“And it turns out that one of my biggest sponsors—a company I genuinely believed in and promoted for over a year—recently got outed for using child labor in their overseas factories. When the story broke, all my other sponsors backed out as if I was radioactive. As if I’d somehow known and endorsed it. ”
“I saw that you’d basically stopped posting for the past couple of weeks,” he said, carefully setting his mug down. “But I thought you were just taking a mental health break, or there’d been some kind of glitch with the system or something. You’ve talked about burnout before.”
“I wish that’s all it was.” I scrubbed a hand down my face, exhaustion pulling at my bones.
“So I’ve been leaning full force into re-injecting some life into my graphic design business to pay the bills for a while, taking on whatever clients I can find.
I landed here because I wanted a small town that wasn’t home—somewhere I could think and regroup without running into people I knew every five minutes. ”
“Uh-huh.” He drew out the syllables in a tone that told me he was aware there was more to my location choice than simple geography.
But instead of pushing and asking what I was really running from, he switched topics with the smooth deflection of someone who understood when to retreat.
“So, what’s actually going on with the hottie firefighter next door? ”
I blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the subject change. “How did you even know he’s a firefighter?”
“Because he was wearing a GHFD T-shirt, baby girl. I might be emotionally devastated, but I’m not blind.” His lips quirked in a ghost of his usual smile.
I scowled at that observation because it made me remember, with unfortunate clarity, the GHFD T-shirt I’d found Lisa wearing the other morning in Colter’s kitchen. “Nothing is going on with him. At all.”
Both of JP’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline now, his expression one of undisguised disbelief. “Baby girl, I know you. I’ve known you your entire life. I saw the way you ran over here like you were escaping something.”
“I mean it,” I insisted, even though my cheeks were warming. “He’s seriously involved with the mother of his daughter, and I’m not getting in the middle of all that complicated family drama, no matter how hot he is or how much I might—” I cut myself off before I could finish that sentence.
With a soft sound of sympathy, JP reached across the back of the couch and laid his hand over mine, his fingers warm and comforting.
“I’m sorry, baby cakes. That’s a tough break, having to live right next door to temptation like that.
But I shall make it my mission to cheer you up and provide distraction. ”
I managed a weak smile. “I’m counting on it.”
“Good, because I have news on that front.” His expression brightened considerably. “Paisley, Ty, and Mom will be on their way up here in a few days for Christmas. I already texted them from the road.”
“Here?” My voice came out slightly strangled as I gestured wildly around my tiny apartment. “Where exactly do you think we’re going to put them all? This place barely fits me.”
“We can handle air mattresses and sleeping bags. It’ll be fine—cozy, even.” He waved away my practical concerns with an airy hand gesture. “We haven’t gotten to spend Christmas with everybody together in an age.”
And despite the chaos and total lack of planning, despite the fact that my life was currently a dumpster fire, and I was living in an apartment not much bigger than a shoebox, I found myself looking forward to it.
Looking forward to the noise and laughter and chaos of my whole family crammed into this small space, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this mess.