Johanna
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“THURSDAY” — LOSTBOYCROW
Present Day
Grayson Harris
Plans for lunch today? I have some time before I need to be at the studio and I think we should talk.
My heart nearly drops out of my chest reading the text, because I know he knows—or, at the very least, he suspects enough to ask. After all, we haven’t exactly been discreet about it.
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Maybe I’ll somehow come up with a more intelligent response if I just give it a few seconds longer—but nothing happens. There isn’t one.
Johanna Harris
I’m free. Let me know where to meet you.
I hit send before I can overthink it, setting my phone down on the counter and closing my eyes.
Memories of last night at the studio with Brandon flood my mind immediately, sending a shiver directly down my spine. Being with him feels… magical. I hate how corny it sounds, but it’s the only word that makes sense. Nothing about it was rushed or reckless—rather, it was intentional.
Easy.
Like we could finally get it right after all these years.
A quiet creak of the floorboard behind me pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see Brandon standing in the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, watching me like he’s been there far longer than I realize.
“Hey,” I smile as I take him in.
“Hi, sexy girl,” he murmurs, pushing off the door frame and making his way towards me. “What are you up to?”
His lack of a shirt and the gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips make it significantly more difficult to remember what I was just thinking about. Or what I need to say.
Fuck—focus, Johanna.
“Grayson asked if I’d go to lunch with him today,” I basically blurt.
I can tell Brandon stifles a laugh, clearly amused by my complete lack of tact.
“Funny,” he says, brushing my hair behind my shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I was just coming in here to tell you Rylee asked me the same thing.”
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head slightly. “They know.”
The weight of my words settles in as I cross my arms loosely over my chest.
“Don’t be nervous,” he assures me, his voice gentler now. “Once everything is out in the open, it’ll be so much easier—I promise.”
I hesitate.
That’s what you said last time.
“I just… I don’t even know what I’m telling him, Brandon,” I admit. “The past few days have been amazing, but what are we? Are we—” My voice falters slightly, searching for the right words. “—back together?”
His expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache as he leans in and presses his lips to mine. Instead of answering, he’s trying to show me how he feels before he tells me. When he pulls away, he lingers for just a moment before his eyes meet mine—clear, uncertain, and unwavering.
“You can tell your brother,” he says quietly, “that you are with a man who loves you and is prepared to give you everything you need.”
My breathing stalls.
“If he has a problem with any of it, well…” A small, almost amused smile tugs at his lips, “that sucks.”
His hands settle at my waist, grounding me as his voice drops slightly into a more serious tone.
“I’m not letting you go again, Hurricane.”
I search his face—really search him this time—as I look for hesitation, for doubt, or any indication that this isn’t real.
I can't find it.
“I love you, Johanna,” he continues. “You may not be there yet—and that’s okay. But if your brother needs to know how I feel about you?”
His thumb brushes lightly under my shirt, just above my hip.
“That’s what you should tell him.”
The words settle into me, heavier than anything he’s ever said. I’ve never told Brandon I love him. I’ve felt it—for years, through everything, I’ve known that much is true. I want to say it back, but somehow, this still doesn’t feel like the right time.
So instead I say, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Even though it doesn’t even come close to how I feel—it’s what I’ve got for now.
The restaurant Grayson picked is exactly what I should’ve expected.
It’s not bright and loud like the brunch spot. It’s more quiet, tucked away, and the kind of place where conversations don’t carry past the table they’re spoken at. It’s moody—just like him.
I spot him immediately, sitting near the back with his sunglasses hooked into the neck of his shirt, one arm draped over the back of the chair next to him. He scrolls through his phone mindlessly like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
I walk over with a completely false sense of confidence and slide into the seat across from him.
“Hey,” I say, drawing his eyes up from his phone screen.
“Hi, Joey,” he replies easily.
Too easily.
There’s a beat where neither of us says anything. Our menus sit untouched between us as a server approaches, ready to take our drink orders.
Is it too early to order a shot of tequila to make me brave?
“I’ll take whatever amber beer you have on draft,” Grayson says, handing her his menu. “And the turkey club with extra bacon.”
The waitress looks to me expectantly, as if I should’ve had it all figured out in the two minutes I’ve been sitting here.
“A glass of prosecco if you have it,” I say, still trying to study the lunch options without fully reading them. “And I suppose the house salad with grilled chicken.”
She nods and disappears, returning only moments later with our drinks.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been at a loss for words with Grayson.
Lately, things have been good between us—maybe better than they’ve ever been.
I don’t want to have to choose between the only family I have left…
and the man I love. I’m hoping we’ve all grown up in the last six years, hoping that getting married has softened my brother the way I saw at the rehearsal dinner, and we can move past this.
But if he can’t, I already know which side I’ll choose.
Grayson takes a long swig of his beer before setting it back on the table and looking straight into my eyes.
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says plainly. “And I hope you’ll give me a straight answer.”
There’s no edge in his voice. No anger. Just… certainty.
I take a sip of my wine, waiting for him to just come out and ask me what he already knows the answer to.
“Are you and Brandon together?” he asks finally.
I fight the urge to down my entire glass, to get up from this table and not face him. The last time we’d talk about this, he said he wanted me to choose happiness—but now that I’ve found it with his bandmate and best friend? Now that it’s real? I struggle to think he’ll honor the sentiment.
“Yes,” I say, making sure my voice doesn’t waver.
If Brandon could see me now, I would want to make sure he knows I’m not lying.
“Are you absolutely sure this time?” Grayson continues. “Because I don’t know what that shit show at the rehearsal dinner really was.”
I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as flashes of our wedding party speeches run through my mind.
“And I sure as hell don’t know where the two of you ended up on my wedding night,” he adds, his voice still controlled—but sharper now. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Of course he did. He notices everything.
I set my glass down carefully, forcing myself to meet his gaze instead of shrinking beneath him.
“I don’t need to share every detail with you,” I say evenly. “You told me to be happy—that’s what I’m doing.”
His brow lifts slightly.
“Try me, Johanna,” he replies. “I need to know how things have changed—that this is different.”
“I’ve changed, Grayson,” I sigh. “I’m not a superficial, plastic Barbie anymore—not the girl who cared more about appearances than anything else. If you can’t see that I’m different, I don’t know what to tell you.”
He shifts in his seat, something softening in his demeanor.
“I know you have, Joey,” he admits. “I didn’t know if we were ever going to get to a place where we could talk the way we have been.” He reaches across the table, wrapping his hand around mine. He gives it a small squeeze. “I just… I still don’t understand why it has to be him.”
There it is.
The thing he’s been wanting to say to me from the moment he sat down.
“Because he loved me when no one else did.”
It comes out softer than I expect, but it lands harder than anything I’ve said thus far.
Grayson sinks back into his chair, letting the words settle in.
He’s right; we weren’t close when we were younger—not like this.
When I needed my brother in the past, he was building a life of his own—consumed by and buried in his first wife’s problems. He was ignorant to anything else around him, and I never knew how to ask him to choose me instead.
Brandon was there anyway. He never made me ask for anything. I’ve never forgotten that.
“I’m sorry, Joey,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out how to be there for you back then.”
I fight back the burn behind my eyes, because the version of Grayson sitting across from me now?
He means it.
The version of him from back then?
He wouldn’t have known how.
I squeeze his hand back, knowing the person he was all those years ago would’ve never chosen me—but the person he is now knows what it’s like to have a sister.
“When I came to LA, you trusted Brandon to look after me in a different capacity,” I say, holding his gaze. “Trust him to look after me now.”
A beat passes, and Grayson’s jaw sets, something conflicted flickering across his face.
“I—”
“We’re not being stupid about this, Grayson,” I interrupt, gently but firmly. “I’m not asking you to be okay with it right away, but I am asking you to not shut me out because of it. You owe me this after how much of a dick you were when you found out the first time.”
His thumb brushes against the back of my hand, like he’s weighing every possible response before choosing one.
“I’m not shutting you out,” he says finally. “I know I was horrible to both of you back then. I want to try to understand what you two have. But you and me? We’re all we have left now, Joey, and I—” He shakes his head. “—I don’t want to lose that, either.”
Relief flickers in my chest, but it only lasts for a moment.
“If being with Mia has taught me anything, it’s that love doesn’t necessarily always come at the most opportune times,” he continues. “And it doesn’t always come from the person you’d expect it to.”
He exhales, letting go of my hand as he leans back in his chair.
“The only way I’d pictured me and Brandon finding our way back to each other was if hell froze over,” I tell him sincerely. “I don’t want to fuck it up, Gray.”
The waitress reappears, dropping our plates in front of us before disappearing again just as quickly.
He reaches for his sandwich, something like acceptance settling between us.
I know this conversation isn’t over—but it feels safe for now.