CHAPTER FORTY Brandon
CHAPTER FORTY
Brandon
“YES DADDY” — brYCE SAVAGE
Present Day
As much as it had killed me, we held off on moving Johanna’s things into my room.
We—rather, she—decided it would be better to wait until after Grayson knows what’s going on.
If there’s one thing this group lacks, it’s boundaries.
Once she’d explained to me how easy it would be for Grayson to come over, take one look at her things in my space, and blow up over it… there wasn’t much left to argue.
I knew she was right. Doesn’t mean I had to like it.
I drag a hand through my hair as I step into the studio, the familiar noise of the equipment already buzzing around me through the space. I’m the first one here—as usual. Normally, it would annoy the hell out of me that the other guys all roll in whenever they feel like it, but today?
I need the distraction.
The last three days have been dangerously easy. With Grayson and Mia gone on their short honeymoon, the constant pressure humming just beneath the surface of everything finally lifted enough for me and Johanna to breathe and settle into what life could be like together.
Tony and Eric had offered to house-sit at Gray and Mia’s while they were gone, but I’m pretty sure that was just their way of trying to give us some space.
Whatever their motivation may have been, I wasn’t about to question it.
For the first time since Jo and I started things up again, it felt like we didn’t have to constantly look over our shoulders.
No questions. No interruptions. We could just be us.
Waking up with her has become my favorite.
Just because her things weren’t in my room didn’t mean she wasn’t.
The way sunlight would creep in through the windows after hot, slow morning sex always made it seem like I was coming out of a dream.
We always woke up needing each other, and listening to her moaning my name as I gently thrusted into her seemed to be the best possible way to start the day.
When we’d both been satisfied, she’d curl into my side, half-asleep, with my cum dripping from her pussy and her hair spread messily across the pillow like she’d belonged there. Like she always had.
Afternoons blurred together. I’d pretend to play my guitar while we sat on the couch or by the pool while really just watching her as she sketched new designs and toyed around with potential business plans.
It had quickly become another one of my new favorite activities—but the way that her face would light up when she got excited about her dream coming true?
I’ve never seen anything like it.
We ended our nights with Johanna introducing me to a new version of girl dinner and a bottle of wine to go with it.
We’d talk about the upcoming album and her designs over things like caesar salad and herbed French fries before falling back into bed and forgetting about every ounce of control we’d claimed to have.
I still can’t believe how normal it feels to just fall into a routine with her. It’s been easy to forget that there’s a world that exists outside of our bubble of domestic bliss—but reality has a way of catching up to people, and today is the day our bubble might pop.
Grayson and Mia got home last night, and our first studio session that Jake set up is this morning. I drop my bag by the couch in the booth and move into the recording area. My bass is leaning comfortably against its stand, like it’s been waiting for me.
I pick it up, settling onto the stool and resting the guitar against my thigh.
I run my fingers across the strings, working through a tricky progression during Collapse Into You.
Mia’s coming in to record the new version with us for our upcoming album tomorrow morning, and I want to make sure it’s perfect before she gets here.
I close my eyes, letting myself fall into it—the rhythm, the repetition, and the way it smooths everything that seems too complicated. For a few minutes, it works. I get lost in the moment and the way the strings feel against my calloused fingers.
Everything is simple—until my phone buzzes against the music stand and brings me back into the real world. When I see Johanna’s name flash across the screen, I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my lips.
Johanna Harris
Surviving morning band bonding time?
Brandon Jackson
Well, that would involve the guys actually showing up. I’m still the only one here.
Johanna Harris
Typical.
Then, a few moments later—
Johanna Harris
Late night tonight?
Brandon Jackson
Probably.
Johanna Harris
Alone?
My brow lifts.
What is she up to?
Brandon Jackson
They usually leave before me, yes.
Why?
Johanna Harris
I was thinking about coming by once they’re gone.
My chest tightens—in a good way. In a way that almost feels dangerous. I glance towards the door, like she might already be standing there, because I’m well aware that she has a habit of appearing when I least expect it.
Brandon Jackson
You sure that’s a good idea?
Johanna Harris
It definitely isn’t.
A beat passes. Then—
Johanna Harris
But Tony and Eric will be back at the house tonight… and I want to see you. Alone.
Fuck. Me.
That’s all it takes.
Any logic I had about keeping things lowkey? Gone in an instant.
My girl needs me that badly? Well, who am I to tell her no?
Brandon Jackson
I’ll text you when they’re gone.
I set my phone down on the stand, running my thumb absently over the thick strings of my bass. It doesn’t take long for the studio doors to swing open, breaking the calm I’d been clinging to.
“Good morning, sunshine!”
Tony’s voice echoes through the space like he’s announcing himself on stage rather than walking into a recording session.
Eric and Grayson follow him closely, each carrying a different version of caffeine.
Tony, obviously, is on what appears to be his second Red Bull.
Eric balances two Starbucks cups in his hands while Grayson clutches his own like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
Jake brings up the rear, clipboard in hand, no doubt marking off the checklist he’d made at three o’clock this morning when he couldn’t sleep.
“There he is,” Jake mutters, barely glancing up. “Our punctual one. I wish the rest of you could be more like Brandon—maybe I could have a life outside of babysitting you idiots.”
Tony scoffs. “You’d miss my dazzling personality and you know it.”
“Your personality is more of a liability than an asset,” Jake replies without missing a beat. “Remember that when I have to bail you out of another one of your ridiculous escapades. One of these days I might not be able to.”
I huff out a laugh, but not because it’s all that funny—because he’s right. Lord knows I’ve done my fair share of bailing Tony out before Jake came along.
“Your coffee, sir,” Eric announces, clearing his throat to break the tension and handing me one of his cups. “Black and hot enough to burn your tongue. You’re welcome.”
“Tony didn’t touch it, did he?” I mutter, eyeing it suspiciously.
“I picked it out!” Tony announces proudly as he falls into place behind his drum kit.
“That’s… not comforting,” I sigh, taking the lid off to take a cautious sniff.
“I supervised,” Jake promises.
No strange smells. Looks the right color. When I take my first sip, there’s no immediate regret. I think I’m safe.
As I lower my cup, my attention shifts. I can’t help but notice that Grayson is quieter than the others.
It’s not like this is unusual, but it’s more than the fact that he hasn’t fully committed to being awake yet.
He slings his guitar strap over his shoulders and begins to tune it with practiced ease, his eyes flicking to me briefly.
It’s quick. Subtle. But it lingers long enough for me to notice and make my shoulders tighten in a way they haven’t in awhile.
There’s no way he knows… right?
“Why’d you get here so early?” he asks finally.
I shrug, forcing myself to keep it casual. “Just wanted to make sure everything was cleaned up before Mia gets in tomorrow.”
He nods once, taking a long sip of his own coffee.
“We’ve almost gotten it to the version we had on tour,” Eric says, helping me shift gears again. “Just need to finalize that bridge section. It’s still missing something.”
“Yeah,” I agree, positioning my bass to start playing again. “I was working on it when you guys got here.”
“Let’s run through it,” Jake says, twirling one of his pens between his fingers. “Show us what genius before noon looks like.”
“I’ll show you what I’ve got first,” I mutter, adjusting my grip. “Maybe lower your expectations, though.”
I run through the progression again as they listen intently. I’m almost surprised when it doesn’t sound half bad after only working on it for about ten minutes.
Eric nods along, thinking ahead while Tony taps absent-mindedly, trying to catch my rhythm.
“It’s a lot stronger,” Eric remarks. “We just need to build on it.”
Tony points his drumstick at me. “See? This is why we keep you around.”
“Appreciate it, Tone.”
Grayson stays quiet in his position by the mic.
I know he’s watching.
Measuring.
Waiting.
This is his song in more ways than one—the song that changed his entire trajectory in music and in life. None of us are willing to let it fall short.
After another hour of back and forth, tweaks, and Tony continuing to derail the entire project with increasingly ridiculous suggestions while Jake’s forehead vein throbs incessantly, things finally start to wind down after we record our last run-through.
“Alright,” Jake says, clapping once. “That’s usable. Save it and let’s call it a night before someone has another stroke of self-proclaimed creative genius.”
Tony raises a hand. “Hey—”
“Nope,” Jake cuts him off. “Absolutely not.”
“I have good ideas!”
“That’s debatable at best.”
I lean back on my stool and let my back rest against the wall as the banter fades into the background around me.