Brandon
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“BYE” — MIDNIGHT TIL MORNING
Present Day
Ifeel like I’m going to be sick.
I’m bringing all of her luggage to the front door. She’s got two large suitcases and a rolling clothing rack draped with full garment bags—her wildest dreams, packed up and ready to go.
I should feel excited. She’s about to get on a plane and fly halfway across the world to do something that could change everything for her. It’s something she deserves and has worked for more than anyone else I know, but all I can think about is how familiar this feels.
The way she moves, the distance between us… the quiet.
It doesn’t feel like she’s leaving for Paris. It feels like she’s leaving me.
At my core, I know it’s not true. I know this isn’t the same as when she left six years ago, but that doesn’t stop my heart from aching every time she walks past me without saying anything.
The doorbell rings—sharp and far too loud for this overly quiet space. I flinch before I can stop myself as Johanna stops mid-step on her way back to the bedroom.
“I’ll get it,” I mutter before she can say anything.
She continues down the hall without a word as I cross the room, my legs feeling like they weigh more than they should. My hand lingers on the doorknob for half a second before I pull it open.
Mia stands on the other side, keys in hand with her sunglasses perched on top of her head. Her smile fades the moment she sees me.
“Hey,” she says, her eyes landing on the bags lining the entryway. “Is she ready?”
I huff out a quiet breath, stepping aside to let her in.
“I guess,” I shrug as she crosses the foyer. “She’s barely said two words to me this morning, so I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask.”
Mia nods as if she expected an answer like that. Like she knows exactly the kind of morning we’ve had.
“You know she just wishes you were coming, too,” she says. “I’m a decent replacement but we both know I’m not you.”
I put my head in my hands. “Mia, I—”
“I know,” she cuts in. “Gray told me you’ve spent the last two weeks begging the label to pick a different date. He said they were complete assholes about it.”
Yeah, that about covers it.
I pulled every favor I could and I still couldn’t get those fuckers to pick literally any other night. I didn’t even tell Johanna I was trying to get it moved because I knew it was a longshot, but now… she thinks I just didn’t care enough when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Grayson’s really okay with you not being there tomorrow night?” I ask her. “I know how he gets when you’re not around, and the duet—”
“He feels terrible that everyone is so tied down by this show that we can’t all be there to support Jo,” she explains. “So he convinced the label that we didn’t need to do the duet tomorrow night as it’s not really a new song.”
Well, at least someone can get through to them about something.
“Thank you, Mia,” I tell her. “I hate this so much, and just—thank you for being here so she doesn’t have to do this alone.”
She smiles and gives my shoulder a squeeze before she walks further into the house.
“Jo?” she calls gently.
Johanna appears from the hallway a second later, her last bag and passport in hand. The moment she sees Mia, something in her expression changes—almost like relief.
“Hey,” Johanna says, her voice quiet.
Mia doesn’t hesitate. She crosses the room in a few quick strides and pulls her into a tight hug.
“Ready to go to Paris and absolutely kill it?” she says, her tone warm and encouraging, trying to hold Johanna steady without pushing too hard.
Jo lets out a small laugh, but it’s thin. “Something like that.”
Mia pulls back just enough to look at her, hands still resting on her arms.
“You’re going to crush it,” she says gently. “And you’re not alone, okay? I’ll be there the whole time.”
Johanna nods, her grip tightening slightly around the handle of her bag. “I know.”
Mia flicks her gaze back to me, almost as if she’s asking, you gonna try to fix this or not?
“Well, the car’s running,” she adds after an awkward beat of silence. “We should probably get going before LAX decides to ruin our lives.”
Johanna lets out a quiet breath, nodding again as she shifts the bag in her hand.
“Do you want—?” I start, reaching out to take it before Mia stops me.
“I’ve got it,” she says, her hand already on the handle. “I’ll start loading everything outside. You guys just… take a minute.”
She doesn’t wait for a response before she’s out the door, letting it swing shut behind her. Just like that, Johanna and I are alone again.
Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. We just… stand there.
It may only be a few feet, but she might as well already be a world away.
“You sure you have everything?” I finally ask.
It’s a stupid question. She’s one of the most organized people I know.
“I think so,” she says softly.
The silence stretches on again. I drag a hand down the back of my neck, searching for something—anything—to say to her that doesn’t feel completely useless.
“Johanna, I—”
“I should go,” she cuts in, her voice overlapping mine.
It’s not cold. Not too harsh. Just… resolved.
“Of course.” I nod, even though the last thing I want is to watch her walk out that door.
She steps past me, moving towards the door with her hand already reaching for the handle, but she stops short. She lingers there for a moment before turning back to face me. When her eyes meet mine again, everything’s there in those beautiful hues of blue. Everything she hasn’t said.
“You’re really not coming,” she whispers.
It’s not accusatory. It’s not even a question—just a plain statement of fact.
“Baby, I wish that I could,” I sigh. “I want to be there, but I can’t.”
“Yeah,” she says.
Her gaze drops to the floor.
“I just…” she exhales, shaking her head slightly. “I really thought you would figure out a way to be there. All my life, I’ve never had anyone show up for my biggest moments. Now that I’m with you, I guess I thought it would be different.”
God fucking damn it.
My knees nearly buckle underneath me. I feel like the worst person alive.
“I tried, Johanna,” I say. “I swear to you, I did.”
She nods, but she still won’t look at me.
She doesn’t have to say anything more. I know she doesn’t believe me, so I do the only thing I can think of to try to convince her one last time.
I take a step towards her—slow and careful, like I’m not entirely sure she’s going to let me touch her.
She doesn’t back away, so I take another step. Then another. Then one more.
I’m right in front of her now. I place my hands at her waist as I pull her into me, and to my surprise, she doesn’t fight it. She settles into me, and fuck—I don’t want to let her go.
“I’m so proud of you,” I murmur into her hair. “You’re going to be incredible over there, and then you’re going to come right back home to me and tell me all about it.”
Her grip around me tightens a little.
“I hope so,” she whispers.
There’s no confidence behind her words. It doesn’t even sound like her. I’m responsible for it—and that fact alone nearly kills me.
I pull back just enough to brush her hair out of her face.
“You can do this, Johanna,” I tell her. “You don’t need me there to prove that.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for any indication that I’m going to turn around and pull a surprise duffle bag out from behind the couch. As much as I wish that were the case—it’s just not.
“I’m going to call you right after the show, okay?” I assure her. “As soon as we’re done.”
She nods, hesitant acceptance settling into her features.
“Okay.”
I could hold her like this forever, but I know Mia’s waiting in the car. I probably have less than a minute before she comes back in here wondering if anyone’s going to help her with the rest of Johanna’s million bags.
Johanna pulls back first, turning toward her bags, counting her garment covers one more time like she needs something to focus on.
“I love you, Hurricane,” I say finally. “You know that, right?”
It’s instinct, because I need her to hear it before she walks out that door. I need to be sure she knows the reason I’m not going isn’t because I don’t love her—because I do.
I love her more than anything else in my life.
“I know,” she murmurs, finding her way back into my arms one last time.
I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers for a second before I kiss her—long, soft, and slow… like I’m trying to memorize the shape of her lips and the way she feels. She kisses me back in the same way, like she’s doing the exact same thing.
“I love you,” she whispers when we pull apart. “And Brandon? Your show will be incredible, too.”
She gives me one final squeeze before turning her attention back to the luggage.
“Come on,” she says quietly, gesturing towards the door. “Let me get these outside.”
The front door swings back open, and the sunlight hits me immediately as we step outside.
Mia’s sitting on the tailgate with the trunk open, scrolling through her phone while she waits on us to roll the rest of the bags down the driveway.
She glances up when we appear, but doesn’t say anything—just watches us for a second before going back to her screen.
I lift the remaining suitcases and the garment bags into the car with ease, but it feels mechanical.
If I put all my focus into this task, maybe I can get through seeing Johanna off without breaking down like an overly emotional loser.
Maybe then I won’t have to think about what happens when there’s nothing left to carry.
When the last bag is loaded, I close the trunk with a dull thud. I walk Johanna around to the passenger side, her fingers curling loosely around the handle, not quite ready to open it yet.
“Text me when you land,” I tell her, because it’s the only thing I can think of that doesn’t feel completely inadequate. “I need to know you’re safe.”
“I will,” she says.
Another awkward beat passes.
“Good luck tomorrow night,” she adds. “I know it’s going to be amazing.”
It should feel good to hear her confidence in me—but it doesn’t. Not when I know there’s more to it than what it seems.
Mia starts the engine and rolls down the window on the passenger side, clearing her throat.
“Alright, you two,” she says gently. “If we don’t leave now, we’re going to miss our flight.”
Johanna lets out a quiet breath.
“Okay,” she murmurs.
It’s time—now or never. She opens the car door, sliding into the passenger seat before she can change her mind. The door shuts, and just like that, there’s a barrier between us. Her eyes stay locked on mine, even as Mia puts the car in reverse and starts backing down the driveway.
Love you, I mouth to her once more, and I swear I see her smile.
I try to give one back, but it feels foreign on my face. We keep our connection as long as we can, until the angle changes and she’s gone.
I stand there, staring at the space where the car stood far longer than I should, and it hits me all at once.
She’s not coming home tonight.