Chapter Twenty-Five Evan
“I can feel you fidgeting from here.”
I glare at Scarlett through my phone screen, refreshing the emails on my laptop for the hundredth time this hour. “I’m not,” I grumble.
“You absolutely are,” Scarlett laughs, and the sound rushes toward me like she’s here in the room. “You need to relax.”
“I’m trying.”
I can hear Miles snickering from the living room and I try to tune him out.
Scarlett and I have been on a call for the last twenty minutes getting ready for the SEI results to be published. Professor Lawrence will be emailing the entire cohort the results in three minutes, and it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last week.
Since my dad came back from Vermont, he’s been checking in regularly to see how I’m doing.
I didn’t tell him the real reason why I went home early, but I know he’s suspicious.
I tried to tell him that I needed to be home for the results and to get an early start on homework, but I’m not sure how much I’ve really been able to convince him.
I honestly think he’s getting a kick out of watching me try to lie to him.
I just didn’t think that keeping Scarlett as my own little secret would be this exhilarating.
These results are the last piece of the puzzle for my dad to give me my job back. After this, I’m free. I’ll be able to go back to the way things were. Back to my old routines and the structure I was used to.
“Fuck, it’s twelve. Have you refreshed yet?” Scarlett asks, leaning closer to her screen and my heart booms in my chest.
I click the refresh button, waiting for the email to load. The second I see Lawrence’s name, I click on it. I scan the email, only looking for the most important parts. Scarlett is quiet on the other end, probably having already read through the entire email by now.
I read and read and read and . . .
Holy shit.
“Branson?”
My voice wobbles as I whisper, “I got it . . .”
I glance over to the small screen that Scarlett’s face illuminates, and I can see that she’s beaming at me. “I told you,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“I fucking got it.”
She snorts. “You did.”
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.” I step down from the stool at the kitchen counter, almost tripping over as I stand.
I start pacing the small space toward the fridge and then back to the stool.
Back and forth. Back and forth. I got it.
I’m in. After all that hard work, I got it.
I quickly spin back around, picking up my phone. “But you—”
“Don’t worry about me.”
I shake my head. “But, Scarlett—”
“Just enjoy it, Branson. I’m going to leave you to celebrate,” she says, a soft smile on her lips. I want to kiss her. God, I want to kiss her so badly. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before ending the call.
It doesn’t take long for the dread to seep in.
This is what I wanted, so why don’t I feel happy about it? I’m going to go on my dream internship, work closely with business mentors and gain even more experience in something I’ve been dreaming about since high school.
But if I go ahead with the internship, that means I’m going to miss out on ten weeks of working at B&Co.
I’m already five months without it, and a part of me hasn’t been missing it nearly as much as I thought I would.
It’s a small part. One I’ve tried to squash and bury, but it’s still there.
And now, with the results of the SEI in front of me, that part has come bubbling up to the surface.
I didn’t realize how badly I wanted the internship until now. How much I want to learn more and explore things outside of fashion, outside of B&Co.
Working for B&Co has always been more than just a job and learning the ropes of running a business.
I’ve always known that. It’s about spending time with my dad and the rest of my family.
I’ve missed being around him, having him only a floor away so he can check in on me and not worry about me as much.
But these last few months have shown he’s going to worry about me regardless, even when I’m not close to him. Maybe that’s just something parents do.
I have this opportunity in my hands. I have the chance to go and do something different. But the possibility of loving that more than B&Co is terrifying.
I’ve planned my future since I was a kid. I had it all mapped out. I can’t handle those plans changing. Not now. Not when I’m so close to getting back to what I wanted. Or what I thought I wanted.
I grip the edge of the kitchen counter, my knuckles turning white. My chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. My breaths come in shallow gasps, my vision narrowing. Shit.
My chest tightens and the sound of my own blood sloshing through my body rings in my ears.
“You good?” Miles asks, stepping closer to me, and it’s only then that I realize he’s got up from his seat on the couch.
I try to speak, but nothing comes out as I try to regulate my breathing.
The more I tell myself I’m okay, the faster my heart races and the more it hurts.
“Panic attack?” I nod, taking in a shaky breath.
“Yeah, I used to get those too. Not that much anymore.”
“Thanks, Davis. You’re really helping,” I mutter, glaring at him. I rub my palm against my chest, trying my best to relax, but it’s really fucking difficult.
“Do you remember the first day you moved in here? Me, Carter, and Xavier were trying out our first keg, and it exploded all over you and your fancy suit,” Miles says, laughing at the memory. I remember that day. I also remember it being one of the worst days of my life.
“What are you doing?” I pant.
He ignores me and continues talking. “After you changed, we apologized, and you told us we were never going to be friends or get along. You said we were too much for you and the only reason you were here was because you transferred from Drayton Hills. But when Carter died, you fed us, you watched cartoons with us that first night and every night after that for weeks. We never said anything, because we thought we were too cool for it, and you didn’t either.
” He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.
“But you helped us anyway. Because that’s what family does, Branson.
We can hold grudges, but we can also be there for each other when we need it, and you’ve always been that person to us, even when you pretend you’re not. You’re always there. No matter what.”
When he finishes, I realize I’ve been breathing normally again. He was distracting me. My hands tremble, but I can feel my body slowly settling back to normal. I take in a deep breath, my chest shaking on the exhale.
“Thank you,” I whisper. He smiles wide, his dimples popping out.
“I never really thanked you for what you did, but you should know how grateful we are. We wouldn’t have made it through without you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, scratching the back of my neck.
“It is,” he says sincerely. I sit on the stool again and Miles follows, leaning against the counter. I drop my head into my hands, grateful when I feel my heart rate slow to a steady thrum. “Can I . . . ask what’s going on?”
I swallow, nodding before lifting my head up. “I just realized I don’t want to work for my dad’s company anymore and I panicked.”
“Oh, shit, wow.”
“Yeah.” I let out a soft laugh. “It shouldn’t really be this big of a deal. I think I’ve known for a while that I’ve never really been interested in the fashion industry. You’ve seen how I dress. I’m not exactly the most stylish person ever.”
Miles laughs too. “But you’re, like, a millionaire.”
“My dad’s a millionaire.” I shrug, tugging at the cuffs of my shirt. “I think I’ve had this idea in my head of what my future would look like for so long, but now I’m seeing it differently.”
“Yeah? And what does it look like now?”
“I don’t know. Blurry, but clearer.”
Miles looks at me for a beat, his eyes narrowed for all of five seconds before he bursts out laughing. “I have no idea what that means, but I guess it doesn’t matter.” He clasps me on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Branson.”
Trying new things hasn’t always been easy for me.
Even though I’ve wanted the SEI for years, actually doing it is going to be a whole other thing to adjust to.
But I know it’s going to be worth it in the end.
It’s going to open up so many other doors that I wouldn’t get by working for B&Co all summer.
I might not know where I’m going to end up, but I need this.
“I know what will cheer you up,” Miles says, and I turn to see he’s got the fridge door open, scanning its contents. That’s never a good sign. “How about I cook something for lunch? I make a mean chicken salad.”
I grimace. “For both of our sakes, I’ll stick to the cooking. You stick to doing the dishes.”
He turns back around, grinning. “Good idea.”
I spend the rest of the evening with Miles, talking about things that don’t really matter.
He tells me about how the hockey season has been going, and I find myself more invested than I’ve been before.
We talk about the summer and what our plans are.
He’s planning to take Wren on a trip somewhere and I give him some recommendations on where to go.
He tells me that he thinks I should go for the SEI and not worry about my future too much, and I believe him.
I know I need to learn how to let go of control and try something new.
Which is not something I’m very good at, but I think I might try it.