And maybe just maybe, working here wasn't a risk.
The thought followed Brinley into the next morning like a held breath finally released. Not relief exactly, more like balance. She stepped into Fast Track Music with purpose, bag slung over her shoulder, hair still damp from a rushed shower. The place hummed the way it had the day before, familiar already. That mattered.
Nitika waved her over before she'd even reached her desk. "You're on a session rotation today," she said, handing Brinley a clipboard. "Three rooms, two artists, one producer who thinks caffeine is a personality trait."
Brinley grinned. "Sounds manageable."
She spent the first hour moving between rooms, checking schedules, confirming takes, relaying notes. It felt good to be useful. Necessary. Every small task stitched her into the rhythm of the place, the way you only notice you belong somewhere once you stop questioning it.
She caught sight of Jaxson a few times. Passing in the hall. Leaning into a studio doorway to listen. Once, he paused beside her desk long enough to slide a note toward her.
Room B needs an extra thirty. You good to adjust?
She nodded and scribbled a quick confirmation. No tension. No old ache flaring. Just coordination.
That was new.
Late morning brought Brandon.
He showed up like he owned the place, which, technically, he did, but no one treated him differently. Hoodie pulled low, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt, he drifted through the main floor exchanging easy hellos. To Fast Track, he was a consultant. A producer. Not Jacob West. Not a rock star. Certainly not the owner.
To Brinley, he was still just her brother.
"You settling in?" he asked quietly when they found a moment near the coffee station.
"Yeah," she said. "It's… good. Busy. I like it."
His gaze flicked across the room, landing briefly on Jaxson before returning to her. "And you?"
She understood what he was asking. "I'm okay," she said honestly. "It's different now."
Brandon nodded, satisfied. "Good. That's all I wanted."
He hesitated, then added, "Mom wants to do a dinner this weekend. Wedding talk. Fair warning."
Brinley laughed. "I'll brace myself."
The afternoon shifted gears when Nitika pulled Brinley into a planning meeting, wedding-related, but Fast Track adjacent. Music coordination. Guest lists. Timeline logistics.
"Don't panic," Nitika said with a grin. "This is just phase one."
Brinley scanned the notes. "Phase one always lies."
They laughed, and something warm settled in her chest. This, being included, trusted, felt like momentum.
Jaxson joined halfway through, listening more than speaking. When he did contribute, it was practical. Supportive. Once, when an artist's schedule overlapped with a potential wedding event, he said, "We'll make it work. Family comes first."
The words landed softly but firmly.
Brinley glanced up. He wasn't looking at her, but he didn't need to be.
Later, a minor hiccup turned into a scramble. A producer ran late. An artist threatened to leave. Brinley stepped in again, rerouting schedules, smoothing egos, keeping things moving. She felt the pressure, and handled it.
When it settled, Jaxson caught up with her near the hallway.
"You're good at this," he said. Not praise. Recognition.
She shrugged lightly. "I pay attention."
"That's rarer than talent," he replied.
They stood there a beat too long. Not awkward, just aware.
"I won't make this harder than it needs to be," he said quietly. "Working here. Us being around each other."
She believed him. That was the surprise.
"I know," she said. "And I'm not asking for space anymore. Just… patience."
"You have it," he said. No hesitation.
By the time the day wound down, Brinley felt tired in a way that promised sleep, not restlessness. She packed up, exchanged goodbyes, and stepped out into the early evening air.
Brandon waited by his car.
"You did good today," he said. "Word travels fast."
She smiled. "You spying?"
"Always."
They drove a few blocks in comfortable silence before he added, "You don't owe anyone forgiveness. You know that, right?"
She nodded. "I know. But I think I want to get there anyway."
"That's different," he said. "And that's okay."
At home, Brinley kicked off her shoes and sank onto the couch. Her phone buzzed, Nitika, already sending venue links and color palettes. She laughed and saved them for later.
The day replayed itself in her mind, not the hard parts, but the steady ones. The way work filled the space that fear used to occupy. The way Jaxson showed up without pressing. The way forgiveness felt less like a leap and more like a series of small steps she could choose, one by one.
Tomorrow would bring more of the same.
And for the first time in a long while, that didn't scare her.