The word stayed with Jaxson longer than he expected it to.
He drove home that night replaying the way Brinley had said she liked being noticed for what she did. Not as a challenge. Not as a warning. Just truth. And it hit him harder than any accusation ever could have.
He'd noticed her before.
He just hadn't been brave enough to choose her.
Fast Track was already alive when Brinley arrived the next morning. A pop-rock artist's team filled the lobby, voices overlapping, energy buzzing. She slipped into her role seamlessly, clipboard in hand, directing traffic, answering questions, solving problems before they grew teeth.
One of the artists, a familiar face from radio playlists, offered her a crooked smile. "You run this place?"
She laughed lightly. "Hardly. I just keep it from falling apart."
"Well," he said, clearly amused, "you're doing a hell of a job."
Across the room, Jaxson watched the exchange with a tightening jaw. He kept his posture relaxed, expression neutral, but something stirred beneath it, an ache wrapped in awareness.
This wasn't flirtation that worried him.
It was the ease.
She belonged here. She belonged anywhere she walked into now.
And she didn't need him to validate that.
Midday brought wedding planning straight into the heart of Fast Track.
Nitika commandeered the conference room with color samples and seating charts, Brandon trailing behind her with coffee and amused resignation.
"Tell me again why we're doing this here?" Brandon asked.
"Because this is where everyone already is," Nitika replied. "And because Brinley has opinions."
Brinley blinked. "I do?"
"Oh, you do," Nitika said, sliding fabric swatches toward her. "Pick."
They fell into discussion easily, music choices, timelines, guest logistics. Brinley offered suggestions, thoughtful and practical. Brandon watched her with quiet pride.
Jaxson hovered just outside the room, pretending not to listen.
He heard everything.
The laughter. The confidence. The way she spoke without hesitation, comfortable in her voice. When another producer leaned in to comment on her taste in music, Jaxson felt that familiar pinch again, brief, sharp, controlled.
You don't get to interfere, he reminded himself. You're earning, not claiming.
Later that afternoon, a touring guitarist lingered by Brinley's desk longer than necessary, asking about local places, joking about staying an extra day.
She handled it with polite warmth, redirecting the conversation back to logistics. Professional. Friendly. Closed.
Jaxson noticed that too.
When the guitarist finally walked away, Jaxson approached, not immediately, not reactively. He stopped beside her desk, resting a hand lightly on the edge.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"No reason," he said honestly. "Just checking."
There was something in his tone, careful, restrained, that made her pause.
"You don't have to monitor the room," she said gently. "I can handle attention."
"I know," he replied. "That's not why."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."
That was all. But the exchange lingered.
By the end of the day, Brinley felt the satisfying exhaustion of being fully engaged. She gathered her things slowly, chatting with Nitika about a potential playlist for the reception.
Jaxson waited until most of the floor cleared before speaking again.
"You don't make this easy," he said, not accusing, almost amused.
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to."
"I know," he said. "That's the problem."
She smiled, small but genuine. "You walked away once. I didn't stop you."
He nodded. "I know."
"And now," she continued, "I'm not chasing."
"I see that," he said quietly.
They stood there, the hum of the building settling around them.
"I'm not punishing you," she added. "I'm protecting myself."
"I wouldn't expect anything else," he said. "And I won't rush you."
That mattered.
Outside, the air was cooler, dusk settling in. Brandon waited near his car again, shaking his head as he watched them exit separately.
"You're enjoying this a little," he teased Brinley once they were alone.
She shrugged. "I'm enjoying not rushing."
Brandon smiled. "Good. Let him feel it."
Across the lot, Jaxson unlocked his truck, glancing back once, just once. Brinley caught it.
She didn't wave.
She didn't look away either.