And with that said, Jaxaon moved on, leaving Brinley with a sense of accomplishment.
The feeling stayed with her all the way home not fluttery, not fragile. Solid. Earned. She went through her evening on autopilot: dinner reheated, shoes kicked off, her bag emptied onto the counter. Work notes still occupied her mind more than Jaxson did, and that felt like progress.
She fell asleep thinking about schedules, artists, and how good it felt to be useful again.
Fast Track was louder the next day.
A touring rock band had arrived early, guitars slung over shoulders, laughter echoing down the hallway. Brinley stepped into motion immediately, clipboard in hand, greeting them, directing them toward the right studio. One of them, tall, easy smile, too charming for his own good, thanked her and asked her name twice.
She answered professionally, unfazed.
Across the room, Jaxson noticed.
He didn't stop what he was doing. Didn't interrupt. But his attention sharpened, eyes tracking the interaction longer than necessary. The guy leaned in just a little too close when Brinley explained the schedule. She didn't step back, but she didn't lean in either.
That mattered.
Jaxson exhaled slowly and returned to his tablet, reminding himself of the line he was not allowed to cross.
You don't get to stake a claim, he thought. Not yet.
Midmorning brought controlled chaos. A last-minute request. A shifted recording slot. Brinley handled it with calm efficiency, moving between rooms, communicating clearly, keeping the day from derailing.
"Nice save," Nitika murmured as they crossed paths in the hallway.
Brinley smiled. "I'm learning from the best."
Nitika's gaze flicked behind her, right to Jaxson. "He's noticing."
Brinley didn't ask who.
"I'm not doing it for that," she said quietly.
"I know," Nitika replied. "That's why it's working."
Later, during a brief lull, Brinley stepped into the common area to drop off notes. Two artists sat nearby, mid-conversation, and one of them glanced up at her.
"You're the reason this place runs so smooth," he said casually. "You ever think about managing full-time tours?"
She smiled politely. "One step at a time."
Jaxson entered just in time to hear it.
Something tightened in his chest, not anger, not even jealousy exactly. More like regret sharpened into focus. He remembered Paris too clearly. Remembered standing in front of her, afraid of the fallout, choosing distance over courage.
And now here she was, confident, capable, admired.
By everyone.
Including him.
He crossed the room, stopping just short of where she stood. "Can I steal you for a minute?" he asked, tone even, professional.
She looked up, surprised, but not uncomfortable. "Sure."
They stepped aside, the noise of the studio fading slightly.
"I wanted to check in," he said. "Not about… us. About work. Are you feeling overwhelmed?"
She studied his face. No agenda. No pressure.
"No," she said honestly. "Challenged, but good."
He nodded. "If that ever changes, you tell me. You don't have to prove anything here."
Her brow lifted slightly. "I know."
And then, deliberately, she added, "But I like being noticed for what I do."
The words weren't sharp. They weren't cruel.
But they landed.
Jaxson swallowed and nodded once. "You should be."
That was it. No more. He stepped back, giving her space, respecting the boundary she hadn't even had to state.
But the message was clear.
I see you. I missed this. And I'm paying for it.
By the end of the day, the band was packing up, the halls quieter again. Brinley wrapped up her tasks, energy buzzing beneath her skin, not from adrenaline, but from confidence.
As she gathered her things, Brandon appeared, clapping his hands once. "Heard you held the place together today."
She laughed. "That's an exaggeration."
"Is it?" he asked lightly. "Because Jaxson doesn't exaggerate."
That caught her attention. "He said that?"
Brandon smirked. "Not in words. But trust me, I can read him."
She considered that, then shook her head. "He's being respectful. That matters more than anything else."
Brandon's expression softened. "Good. Keep him there."
Outside, Brinley paused before getting into her car. Jaxson exited moments later, keys in hand. They stood a few feet apart, the space between them intentional.
"You handled today really well," he said.
"Thanks," she replied. "It was busy."
He hesitated, then added, "I know I don't get to say this lightly, but I'm glad you're here."
She met his gaze, steady. "So am I."
And for the first time, she could see it clearly in his eyes, not hope, not expectation.
Acceptance.