Johanna #2
He’s not yelling, but that’s almost worse. I can hear the tension coiling in his voice, tight and controlled, even from where I’m standing on the opposite side of the yard.
I’m moving before I even realize it, closing the distance in a few strides, needing to de-escalate the situation before it gets out of hand—again.
“Grayson—” I start.
“Tell me I’m seeing things,” he snaps as he whips around to face me, cutting me off while yanking Brandon’s hand right along with him. “Tell me I’m fucking delusional, Johanna.”
“It’s not what you think,” I say, forcing the words out as my pulse races. “It’s just—”
“Did you or did you not give him our dead father’s wedding ring?” he seethes.
I hold his gaze, determined not to let him steam-roll over me even though I feel like I could throw up right about now—even with everyone watching us like we could combust at any moment.
“I did,” I say.
The words land like a bomb, and a ripple of surprise rolls through the group.
“Oh, shit,” Tony mutters under his breath.
Jake suddenly becomes very interested in the condensation patterns on his beer bottle. Eric straightens slightly, his usual easygoing demeanor gone as he looks between Grayson and Brandon, ready to step in if things get any more heated.
Mia and Rylee watch from the sidelines, but I can feel their attention locked on me.
Grayson finally drops Brandon’s wrist. It’s abrupt, like the contact causes him physical pain.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he drags a hand down his face. “Just when I thought you were done making idiotic decisions.”
“I’m not,” I fire back, forcing my voice to stay steady even though I can feel heat creeping up the back of my neck. “This isn’t some stupid choice I made on a whim. I—”
“Johanna—” he starts, but whatever he was going to say catches in his throat as he looks back at Brandon’s hand.
To the ring.
“You two want to play games and exchange cute little rings? Fine,” he says, his voice slicing through me like a blade. “Just don’t do it with our family heirlooms, okay? There’s a perfectly good jewelry section at the Walmart down the street.”
That does it.
Any hope I had of keeping this calm snaps clean in half. I’m done letting him belittle this—belittle me—because it doesn’t fit into whatever version of reality he’s comfortable with.
“Grayson,” I say, my voice hot with anger. “No one gave you shit when you flew halfway across the country to go get Mia literally—not figuratively—five seconds after you and Lily signed your divorce papers.”
His head jerks back slightly as if I’ve slapped him.
“Not to mention,” I continue, not letting up as my voice rises despite my best efforts, “you and Mia had only been back in each other’s lives for what—a week?”
I suck in a breath, trying—and failing—to stop myself from shaking with rage.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “Fuck you and your elitist bullshit.”
Silence falls over the group, the only noise coming from the bass of the speakers that never got turned off.
“Well, damn,” Tony mutters after a moment.
“Get him, Jo,” Jake adds under his breath.
Grayson just stares at me like he’s trying to figure out what just happened. Like he never thought I’d lose my mind on him like that, and now he’s trying to catch up to the version of me standing in front of him.
The anger still simmers between us. I can see him holding it in the tight set of his jaw, in the rigid line of his shoulders—but something like sadness creeps in alongside it. He exhales slowly, putting his face in his hands for a moment before looking back at me.
“Can you just tell me one thing?” he asks.
His tone has shifted—it’s subtle, but it’s there. There’s less fire behind it, but much more weight.
I hesitate, my heart rate still at a high. Slowly, I nod.
“What?”
His gaze flicks to Brandon’s hand once more, then right back to me.
“Where did you even find it?”
It’s not a demand, or even an accusation. It’s something deeper.
It’s the pain he still carries for all the things he left unresolved with our mom after over a decade of no contact. The need to understand everything he missed out on. All the conversations he never got to have, and questions he never thought to ask until it was too late.
I can’t fault him for needing closure. If the roles were reversed, I’d want to know everything, too.
“It was in Mom’s jewelry box,” I say quietly. “I’ve had it since the funeral.”
His expression softens further. It’s not dramatic, but it’s enough that I know he can picture it.
“We passed it back and forth for years,” I continue. “But I gave it back to her when we got her diagnosis. I used to wear it on a necklace sometimes… you just didn’t notice.”
His gaze drops briefly, like he’s being transported back to another time. Like he’s replaying every time we’ve seen each other over the last few years, trying to remember.
“I didn’t have a clue,” he murmurs, unable to look at me now.
“There was a note with it when I found it, Gray,” I tell him.
I know I’ve got his attention now. His eyes snap right back to mine.
“I didn’t just take it,” I explain. “Mom wrote that she wanted me to have it, and that someday I’d meet someone who reminds me of my worth, someone who I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. She said when I found that person, I should give them the ring to symbolize that.”
I glance at Brandon for half a second, my throat tight. Pride glows in his eyes as he gives me a small, steady nod before I turn back to face my brother.
“I’ve found my person, Gray,” I say softly. “Please tell me you can see that. I really don’t want to fight about this anymore.”
Grayson doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to Brandon—to the ring for what feels like the millionth time—then back to me.
I hold my breath, waiting as I watch him weigh how much the fight is worth in his mind. Whether or not he’s willing to let it go.
“Fine,” he says finally. “I’ll drop it—forever—with two conditions.”
Relief floods every inch of my body, so fast it almost makes me dizzy.
“What?” I ask.
His eyes lock on Brandon’s.
“You hurt her?” Grayson says evenly. “You’re dead.”
Brandon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t argue. He just nods in silent acceptance. Grayson watches him a moment longer, making sure the message sinks in, before he turns the focus back to me.
“And you,” he says, his tone quieter now but with all the weight in the world behind it, “you won’t disappear on him—on us—again?”
“I won’t,” I say immediately, like a vow.
Grayson gives a short nod.
Finally.
“Good.”
A beat passes, but the silence doesn’t last long.
“I love emotional devastation as much as the next guy,” he says, looking around like he’s been personally victimized by a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with him, “but do you think we could eat these fucking burgers now before I pass out?”
A ripple of laughter moves through the group, and just like that—the tension is gone and the world settles back into our new normal.
Everyone starts moving again, lining back up to fill their plates. As the group shifts around us, Brandon’s hand finds mine. Our fingers lace together as he pulls me into him, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“You okay?” he whispers, leaning over so his lips brush just beside my ear.
I turn my head slightly, meeting his eyes.
“Yes,” I say, a soft smile spreading across my face. “I think I’m more okay than I’ve ever been.”