Fast Track Music didn't feel intimidating when Brinley walked in, it felt busy.
Phones rang. Someone laughed down the hall. Music pulsed faintly through the walls, not loud enough to distract, just enough to remind her why she was here. She paused for half a second inside the doorway, adjusting the strap of her bag, not to steady fear,but to settle nerves.
This wasn't about whether she could be around Jaxson.
She already had been.
This was about being around him every day.
Nitika spotted her first. "There you are," she called, waving her over. "Come on, we'll get you set up."
Brinley followed, already slipping into motion. A desk. A login. A schedule. Real work. The kind that required attention and left little room for spiraling thoughts. She liked that.
"Don't overthink today," Nitika said quietly as she handed her a stack of files. "No one expects perfection. Just awareness."
Brinley smiled. "I can do awareness."
She was halfway through organizing the files when she felt it, that familiar shift in the air that had nothing to do with sound.
Jaxson walked through the main floor with a tablet tucked under his arm, speaking calmly to one of the engineers. He didn't stop. Didn't hover. But when his eyes flicked her way, he nodded once.
Simple. Acknowledging. Safe.
Her chest tightened, not painfully, just enough to remind her that feelings didn't vanish just because they'd been managed well.
She nodded back and returned to her work.
That was the difference now. The feelings existed, but they didn't control the room.
The morning moved quickly. Brinley sat in on a short planning meeting, took notes, asked questions. When she spoke, people listened. That mattered more than she'd expected.
Jaxson ran the meeting efficiently. Clear direction. Calm tone. He didn't single her out, but when she clarified a scheduling conflict, he met her eyes briefly and said, "Good catch."
No emphasis. No weight.
But it stayed with her longer than it should have.
At lunch, she exhaled for the first time without realizing she'd been holding it.
"This isn't bad," she admitted to Nitika. "It's… normal."
Nitika smiled knowingly. "That's because you've already done the hard part. Now you're just learning how to exist in the same space without reopening old wounds."
Brinley considered that. "I think I'm just learning how to forgive something that didn't mean what it felt like at the time."
"That's harder," Nitika said gently.
"Yeah," Brinley agreed. "But I'm closer than I was."
The afternoon brought a minor crisis, an artist running late, a session at risk of being pushed. Brinley stepped in, rerouted the schedule, coordinated with the sound tech.
Jaxson watched it happen.
Not impressed. Not surprised.
Just… aware.
When the problem resolved, he stopped by her desk. Not looming. Not lingering.
"You handled that well," he said.
She met his gaze, steady. "I've had practice adapting."
Something flickered across his face, regret, maybe, but he didn't touch it.
"I know," he said quietly. "And I respect it."
That was new.
Not an apology. Not a defense.
Respect.
It settled something inside her that she hadn't realized was still braced.
By the end of the day, Brinley felt tired in a good way. Accomplished. Grounded. She packed her bag slowly, watching the room empty out.
Jaxson passed by once more on his way out. "See you tomorrow," he said, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
And somehow, that felt like progress.
"Yeah," she replied. "Tomorrow."
Driving home, Brinley realized something important.
Being around Jaxson wasn't reopening the wound.
It was showing her how much it had already healed.
Forgiveness, she was learning, didn't arrive all at once. It showed up in small allowances. In steady interactions. In realizing that the man standing in front of her now wasn't the one who'd walked away in Paris.
And maybe, just maybe, working here wasn't a risk.
It was a bridge.