Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 71

The contract lies in front of me like a mountain, its pages crisp and dense with small print. My name is typed so many times I almost start to disassociate from it. Penelope Vales. Penelope Vales. Lead role. Lead. Me.

I chew on the end of a pen and lean back against the headboard. My ballet bag sits on the floor, still half-zipped, like even it can’t believe what just happened. I’ve read through the first four pages—introduction, conditions, expectations—but there’s still a stack to go. Rehearsal schedules, performance dates, studio regulations, nutrition plans, mental health support resources. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.

I should be focused. I want to be focused. But my brain keeps tripping over the same thought, looping around the same sting.

Tyler had plans.

It’s stupid, right? He has a life. Friends. Things he committed to. He’s not obligated to rearrange his world just because I got the best news of mine. Still… I can’t shake the ache. This was the kind of moment you dream of sharing. The kind of moment that deserved fireworks or a dinner or at least one person insisting on doing something ridiculous and over-the-top just to see you smile.

He used to do that. Not that long ago, actually.

I blink rapidly as tears start to well, determined not to let them fall. No. I won’t let this feeling tarnish today. I worked too hard, bled through too many shoes, pushed through too many cracked nails and sleepless nights and self-doubt to cry over a boy who couldn’t say no to a Friday night hangout.

I exhale through my nose, fold another page over, and keep reading. I underline something about warm-up protocols in red. I reach for a highlighter and freeze when a soft knock taps at the door.

I sit up a little straighter, sniff once, and say, “Come in.”

The door opens a crack, and Asher steps in, keys twirling lazily in his hand. He’s in a black hoodie now, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, revealing the same tattoos I’ve gotten a little too used to seeing. His hair’s still damp from his earlier shower, and something about that feels so... domestic. Like this is our house and he’s checking in on me before we go run errands or something.

He studies me for a second, eyes unreadable, then nods toward the keys. “You coming?”

I blink. “What?”

“We’re going somewhere.”

I drop my pen. “Asher, I’m really—” I shake my head and gesture vaguely at the papers. “I don’t think I’m up for it right now. You’ve already done enough today.”

He walks fully into the room and perches at the edge of my bed, like he’s done this a hundred times before. He looks at me, calm but serious. “Penny.”

The way he says it—it’s not soft, but it’s not harsh either—stops my excuse in its tracks.

He continues. “I spend most hours of every day surrounded by death, pain, injuries, stress. When something good happens, something worth remembering, there’s always something to mourn at the same time. That’s just how it goes. You learn to live with it, learn to carry it.”

I stay quiet. His eyes hold mine, and there’s a weight in them I don’t fully understand but feel in my bones.

“I’m home now,” he says, voice lower. “And I haven’t seen someone be that happy about an accomplishment in years. Maybe ever. You’re glowing. You earned something incredible. And I’m not going to let my idiot brother ruin that.”

I press my lips together, trying not to cry again, but apparently today I’m just a mess of nerves and joy and sadness, because a tear slips out anyway.

His hand reaches up and brushes it away before I can even react. He lingers there, thumb still at the corner of my eye, his palm warm against my cheek.

“I want to do something that I can’t do when I’m out there,” he says quietly. “I want to celebrate with someone who actually has something to celebrate. I can’t promise I’ll love whatever we do, and I reserve the right to make fun of you if it’s ridiculous—”

“Rude.”

“—but I’m doing this as much for you as I am for me.”

I let out a shaky laugh and sniff again. “You make it really hard to say no, you know that?”

“Good.”

He stands and gestures at me. “Now, do I have to drag you out of this room or are you going to put your Penny smile back on and follow me willingly?”

I smile without meaning to, the kind that aches just a little.

“Would you rather,” I start, already grinning, “have to frown every time you’re happy, or give a full, teeth-baring, super intense smile every time you’re sad?”

He points at me. “There she is.”

I throw a pillow at him. He dodges it with a smirk.

“I didn’t hear an answer,” I say as I stand and tug on my shoes.

He opens the door and starts down the stairs. “Frowning’s my natural state. And I don’t get sad.”

I follow him. “You don’t get sad?”

“No. But I do get annoyed. Like when people ask me weird questions on the daily.”

I laugh, skipping the last step just to bump his shoulder. “You love it.”

He doesn’t deny it.

In the car, I buckle in and he turns his phone toward me. A map is open, and at the top of the screen is a familiar name.

“Oh my god,” I gasp. “You found the fair!”

“You said it’s your favorite.”

“You actually listened?”

He side-eyes me. “I’m not deaf.”

I grin so hard my cheeks hurt. “This is going to be the best day ever.”

He starts the engine. “Put your seatbelt on, princess.”