Brinley felt the weight of it the moment she walked into Fast Track that morning.
Not pressure,momentum.
The kind that came when too many threads started weaving together at once. Work. Family. Weddings. History. The careful balance she'd been maintaining suddenly felt narrower, like the room for missteps had shrunk without warning.
She scanned the day's schedule, lips pressing together when she reached the highlighted note at the bottom.
Parents arriving Friday.
She hadn't told Jaxson.
She hadn't planned to,at least not yet.
Across the room, Brandon was already deep in conversation with Nitika, gesturing toward a sample layout board. Brinley caught fragments as she passed.
"…ceremony's smaller than we thought…"
"…Mom's already got opinions…"
Brandon's wedding.
Another circle tightening.
Brinley slid into her role easily, answering calls, adjusting run-through times, redirecting questions. But her mind kept jumping ahead, to her parents walking through Fast Track's doors, to their watchful eyes, to the unspoken questions they always carried.
And to Jaxson.
Because he would notice.
He always did.
By midmorning, the news reached him without her saying a word.
Nitika mentioned it casually while reviewing notes near the soundboard. "Your folks coming in this weekend, right, Brinley?"
Jaxson's hand stilled for just a fraction of a second.
Brinley looked up. "Yeah. They're staying a few days."
"That'll be fun," Nitika added, already moving on.
Fun wasn't the word Brinley would've chosen.
She didn't look at Jaxson, but she felt the shift, like a temperature change you only noticed after it happened.
He didn't ask.
Didn't react.
But something darkened quietly behind his eyes.
The green-eyed monster didn't roar.
It settled.
Later, Brandon pulled Brinley aside near Studio A. "So," he said, lowering his voice, "Mom's already asking if she should swing by Fast Track."
Brinley sighed. "Of course she is."
"And she wants to talk seating charts."
Brinley pinched the bridge of her nose. "For your wedding."
"Apparently," Brandon said dryly, then softened. "You okay?"
She nodded. "I will be."
That was her answer for everything lately.
Jaxson watched the exchange from a distance, jaw tight. He hated how easily her family fit into her world,how naturally they belonged there, how permanent it all felt. Brandon's wedding plans. Her parents' visit. Futures stacking up without him anywhere in the center of them.
He reminded himself:
This was the cost of patience.
Still, when one of the groomsmen lingered too long talking to Brinley about décor ideas,laughing, leaning in,Jaxson felt it spike sharp and unwanted.
Jealousy.
He didn't step in.
He focused on his work. Counted breaths. Channeled it into precision instead of possession.
Across the room, Brinley noticed anyway.
Not the jealousy itself, but the restraint around it.
That afternoon, the wedding planning meeting spilled into the main office. Brinley took the lead, mapping timelines for both Brandon's ceremony and the upcoming showcase. Her parents' names came up more than once,arrival times, dinners, logistics.
Jaxson stayed quiet unless directly asked.
When Brinley handed him a list of equipment needs for Brandon's rehearsal, their fingers brushed.
Neither of them reacted.
But the air shifted.
After the meeting, Brandon clapped Jaxson lightly on the shoulder. "You're saving my ass with all this," he said. "Seriously."
Jaxson nodded. "Happy to help."
Brinley watched the exchange carefully. Family lines were blurring now. Not emotionally, but logistically. And logistics were harder to retreat from.
In the parking lot that evening, Brinley found Jaxson already there, leaning against his truck like he'd been waiting, but not for her. Just… there.
She hesitated, then walked over.
"My parents are coming," she said simply.
"I know," he replied.
She studied his face. "Are you okay with that?"
The question surprised him.
"Yes," he said honestly. Then, after a beat, "As long as you are."
She nodded, relieved he hadn't made it about himself. "They'll be around a lot. Brandon's wedding stuff too."
"I figured."
She searched his expression. "If it's too much,"
"It's not," he interrupted gently. "I can handle being in the background."
That shouldn't have mattered.
But it did.
"Thank you," she said.
He shrugged lightly, but his eyes gave him away. "I'm working on not wanting things I haven't earned yet."
Brinley's chest tightened.
She didn't respond. She wasn't ready to.
But when she walked away, she realized something important had changed.
The circles in her life weren't just closing.
They were overlapping.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure where the lines would eventually fall.