Brinley hadn't realized how exhausting it was to be observed until the day finally ended.
Dinner with her parents should have felt comforting. Familiar. Instead, it carried an undercurrent she couldn't quite shake , like walking through a room where the furniture had been rearranged just enough to throw off her footing.
Her mother stirred her drink slowly, eyes thoughtful. "You seem settled," she said at last.
Brinley looked up. "At work?"
"At life," her mom corrected gently.
Her father leaned back in his chair, silent but attentive, letting the moment breathe.
"I am," Brinley said, though the words felt less certain once spoken aloud. "I like what I'm doing. I like where I am."
Her mother nodded, accepting the answer without pushing. But she didn't move on either.
"And Jaxson?" she asked casually, as if she were asking about the weather.
Brinley's fingers tightened around her glass. "What about him?"
"He's around," her mom said. "He's careful."
Her dad finally spoke. "That kind of restraint usually means something."
Brinley swallowed. She hadn't expected them to notice that. Hadn't wanted them to.
"It doesn't mean anything," she said softly. "Not yet."
Her parents exchanged a look , not disapproving, not knowing , just aware.
Meanwhile, across town, Jaxson sat in his truck longer than necessary, hands resting on the steering wheel. He replayed the day in pieces , the way Brinley's shoulders had stiffened when Brandon mentioned the wedding, the quiet scrutiny from her parents, the way everything felt suddenly… visible.
He didn't mind being patient.
He minded being judged before he was ready to speak.
At work the next morning, the atmosphere had shifted again. Whispers weren't loud, but they were present , the subtle kind that didn't need words. Brinley caught it in the sideways glances, the slightly-too-friendly questions.
"So, your parents were in yesterday," Nitika said lightly as she joined Brinley at the coffee station. "They seemed proud."
Brinley smiled. "They worry."
"Don't all good parents?" Nitika replied, then hesitated. "For what it's worth… people notice consistency."
Brinley blinked. "People?"
Nitika shrugged. "Jaxson."
That name landed differently now , heavier, public.
Across the building, Brandon cornered Jaxson near the loading bay.
"Hey," Brandon said, adjusting the folder under his arm. "I hope yesterday wasn't awkward."
Jaxson shook his head. "It's fine."
Brandon studied him for a moment. "You doing okay with all this wedding stuff?"
Jaxson understood the question beneath the question.
"Yeah," he said honestly. "I just don't want to make anything harder for her."
Brandon's expression softened slightly. "Then you're already doing better than most."
That evening, Brinley found herself alone with Jaxson in the hallway , unplanned, unavoidable. The quiet between them felt charged in a new way, not intimate, but aware.
"My mom asked about you," she said, not looking at him.
Jaxson didn't smile. "And?"
"She said you were careful."
A corner of his mouth lifted faintly. "I've been practicing."
Brinley finally met his eyes. "It hasn't gone unnoticed."
Something flickered across his face , relief, maybe , but he didn't step closer.
"I'm not trying to earn points," he said. "I'm just trying not to mess it up."
They stood there, the hum of the building around them, the weight of unspoken expectations pressing in.
"I don't need you to prove anything," Brinley said quietly. "I just need… steadiness."
He nodded once. "I can do that."
Later, as Brinley drove home, her mother's words echoed again: He's careful.
For the first time, that didn't feel like a warning.
It felt like a foundation.