The sincerity in his voice—and the fact that he’d called me Dani instead of Dandi—almost made me want to cry. Momentum had been carrying me forward the past few days, but so many emotions were close to the surface. Sympathy from my brother showed me just how fragile I really was.
He walked over and put his hands on my shoulders. “Maybe it’s a good thing. A chance to start out on your own. You’re finally free, you know?”
“But that’s just it. I don’t want to be free. I wanted to design for LeFranc and now I never will. I’m not ready to celebrate.”
His jaw tightened. “Whatever. You’re so much better than LeFranc.”
“Please don’t lecture me right now, okay? I need a place to stay.”
He froze. “Oh. So you want to stay here?”
“I don’t really know where else I’d go. I mean, Mom and Dad’s house is obviously out, and I don’t have the money to find a place on my own.”
“You couldn’t have stayed in New York? With a friend?”
In truth, I’d worked hard to convince myself leaving was my only option. But I hadn’t tried very hard to stay in New York. I couldn’t have stayed with Paige. All those reasons why we had to give up our apartment were perfectly valid. But I really could have slept on Chase and Darius’s couch for a few weeks until I found another job and earned enough of a paycheck to find a new place, and a new roommate. But staying had felt impossible. I hated that it did, that I wasn’t stronger. But my ego felt irreparably bruised, battered to the point that I couldn’t even imagine walking into another fashion house and asking for a job. Especially since there was no way in hell I would ever ask Sasha for an actual recommendation.
“I couldn’t stay in New York,” I said. My voice broke on the last word and I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to cry.
“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” Isaac folded his arms across his chest.
“Please, Isaac? I needed to get away for a little while.”
“Why not ask Mom and Dad for some money? You know they’d help you.”
“I don’t want their money,” I said, an edge to my voice I hadn’t expected. “I can fix this. I just need a little bit of time to get back on my feet.”
He seemed to study my face for what felt like an eternity before his features softened and he leaned on the counter. “I wish I could help, Dani, but I don’t even have a spare room,” Isaac said. “There’s a couch in the living room, but there are six dudes in this house, awake at all hours of the night. The living room is almost never empty.”
He turned and stalked into the dining room, or what I thought was supposed to be the dining room. He’d turned his into a music room. A huge stereo system and large shelves covered the wall, filled entirely with row after row of vinyl—a record collection Isaac had started when we were thirteen after he’d found his first vintage Beatles album at old Ms. Landry’s yard sale at the end of the cul-de-sac. “Where else am I supposed to go?” I asked him. “I literally have nowhere else to turn.”
Isaac sifted through a stack of records, pulled one out, then dropped it back onto the pile. He turned to face me. “I genuinely wish I could say yes, Dandi. I just don’t think it would be comfortable for anybody. You wouldn’t have any privacy.”
“Please don’t call me Dandi. And I don’t care if I don’t have privacy. It’s temporary. You won’t even know I’m here. Truly, it’ll just be for a month or so. Enough time for me to save some money and figure out what I’m going to do next.”
“I’ll put you up in a hotel for a couple of weeks. Long enough for you to figure stuff out.”
I sniffed. A hotel? “I can’t let you do that. I could never pay you back.”
“What about the bedroom above the studio?”
Isaac and I turned to see Alex standing in the doorway. “Sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear. I don’t want to make it my business, but there is an empty bedroom above the studio.”
“The studio?” I looked to Isaac for clarification.
“The kitchen house out back,” he said. “We converted it into a recording studio a few months ago. It’s where we do all of our filming.”
“I don’t mind sleeping above the studio,” I said, hope blossoming in my chest.
“It’s just an empty room,” Isaac said.
“It isn’t empty. The old red couch that used to be on set, the one you just replaced?” Alex said. “Tyler and Vinnie moved it up there.” He looked at me. “The room even has its own bathroom.”
“That sounds amazing. A couch and a bathroom are legitimately all I need.”
Isaac stood quietly for what felt like an interminable amount of time. With his arms folded across his chest, his chin resting on his hand, he looked just like my dad. Watching him stand there brought on a wave of homesickness so strong, it nearly bowled me over. People had always said it—how much Isaac favored Dad. I knew them both too well to really see it. But I saw it then. And nearly cried for how it made me feel.
All I’d ever done growing up was dream of leaving Charleston. Leaving my family. Making my way in the vast world on my own. It wasn’t that I didn’t love them. That they weren’t supportive. They were. The world they lived in had just been too small for my dreams.
But now, I wanted back in. I needed to be around the people in the world who gave me a sense of permanence. I would have preferred my parents, but Isaac was the next best thing. Even if he didn’t want to be.
A few seconds more and Isaac nodded his head as if he’d come to some sort of decision. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” he said. “You can have the room above the studio, but instead of rent, you’ll provide dinner three or four times a week for all of us. Everyone that lives here. Something you actually cook. No fast food. We eat too much of that already. I’ll pay for the groceries, but you have to do all the planning and shopping. All of it. In exchange, I let you live here for free.”
I frowned but willed the discouragement away. It could be worse. At least he hadn’t asked me to do all the cleaning, too.
Plus, I’d secured myself a place to sleep rent-free, and a place to pee in private. As far as I’d fallen, that felt like something to celebrate. “Okay, deal,” I said. “But I’m not taking requests. You have to eat whatever I feel like making.”
“Fine. But nothing vegetarian,” Isaac said. “We eat meat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Want to bang your fist against your chest and grunt a few times, too?”
“If that’s what it takes, Dandelion. Carnivores,” Isaac said. “Don’t forget it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Alex
I led Dani across the patio and through the garden to the kitchen house at the back of the property. Many of the homes in the historic district expanded the main house to reincorporate the kitchen houses, once city ordinances no longer required the kitchens to be separate structures, but some still stood separate.
“1807,” I said, as we approached the door.
“What?” Dani asked.
“That’s when this house was built. 1807.”
“Wow. Is that older than your house?”
“Much older. Well, sort of. The original Randall house was built in 1797, but it was lost to fire in 1861. I guess they weren’t able to rebuild until 1870, so the house now isn’t all that old.”
“Right. 150 years isn’t old at all.”
I grinned over my shoulder. “It’s all relative in a city like this.”
“I’d like to see your house sometime.”
I paused and turned around, pushing my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “Really?”
Pink crept up her cheeks. “Is that weird? I don’t mean anything by it. Just, for the history, you know?”
I nodded. She had to mean the house’s history, but the first thing that came to mind was our history. “Yeah. Sure. I’d love to show you.”
I turned and faced forward again, pushing open the studio door. Dani was tense, obviously uncomfortable in
my presence, but we were at least talking. That had to be a step in the right direction.
I pulled Dani’s suitcases into the room then stepped aside so she could follow me in. “Do you see there, on the right? Just hit that first light switch.”
She flipped the switch and the room flooded with light. Her eyes went wide. “Wow.”
I followed her gaze as she took in the cameras, the lights, the full set of Random I.
“So this is where the magic happens.” She tugged at her hair, damp and slightly frizzed from the rain, like she wanted to pull it into submission, then settled for tucking it behind her ears.
I couldn’t decide if the hint of something in her voice was sarcasm or actual awe. Sarcasm wouldn’t have surprised me; she’d never made her disdain for Isaac’s profession a secret. Still, the studio was impressive. For her to be dismissive felt cruel, even for her.
Even after a year of dating Dani and another year of working with Isaac, I still wasn’t sure I understood their relationship. Sometimes it seemed like they were almost getting along, but the bad blood clearly ran deep and boiled up to the surface at the most random moments. At the same time, there was a ferocity to them both, to the way they spoke about each other. They definitely cared and would do anything, if it truly came down to it, to protect the other. But getting them to interact as friends was nearly impossible.
“What’s down there?” Dani asked, motioning down the hallway.
“That’s the chop shop. Where they do all the editing and mixing and all those other production words I don’t know anything about.”
“Hey Isaac, is that you?” a voice called down the hall. Tyler appeared seconds later. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were—” his words trailed off when he looked from me to Dani, his smile stretching wide across his face.
“Dandelion?” He quickly crossed to where she stood and pulled her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”
I tensed, suddenly uncomfortable for reasons I wasn’t willing to ponder. Stupid emotions.
Dani ended Tyler’s hug with a playful shove. “Tyler Fernley, you know I’ll take you down if you keep calling me that.”
So Tyler must have been the one friend whom Dani and Isaac had actually shared. I felt like he’d told me as much once, but I still wasn’t great at keeping all the roommates and their different backstories straight. The fact they were all so alike only complicated things. They all had distinct jobs, handling everything from the sound and lighting, to the final mixing and the social media, but I still wasn’t confident I could match the right man with the right job.
Tyler looked from me to Dani, then to Dani’s suitcase. “Are you staying a while?” he asked her.
“My parents are still in Europe,” she said with a shrug. “So here’s the next best thing, I guess.”
“Right on, right on,” Tyler said. “Well, welcome. You’re taking the room upstairs?”
She nodded.
“Good to know.” Tyler shot me a knowing look. “I’ll be sure to tell Mushroom he can’t use the couch for naps anymore.”
Dani looked like the thought might make her cry. I couldn’t say I blamed her. The idea of someone named Mushroom taking naps on my bed made me want to cry.
Tyler turned his attention back to me. “Hey, have you seen Isaac? I need him to look over the final edit before I upload this morning’s episode.”
“Last I saw him, he was in the kitchen on his phone.”
“Got it. Thanks.” Tyler looked back at Dani. “The rest of the guys are in the chop shop,” he said. “You want to say hello?”
She turned and followed Tyler down the hall. I trailed behind, leaning against the door frame of the small space. It was so filled with equipment—computers and video screens and soundboards—I wondered how they all fit without bumping into each other, but they all seemed to have their own corner.
Tyler handled the introductions. “You remember Vinnie and Mushroom,” he said.
They waved and Dani offered them a weak smile. “Hi, guys.”
“And that over there is Steven,” Tyler said. “Actually, you might recognize him from the Daily News Drop on the show. He’s on camera with Isaac a lot.”
“Sure. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Isaac’s sister, Dani.”
“But you can call her Chef Dani,” Isaac said, barreling past me into the room. “She’s a little down on her luck right now so she’s going to earn her keep cooking for us.”
“Down on your luck?” Tyler asked. “What’s up?” He gave Dani a concerned look that made my jaw tense. I forced myself to relax. I was not jealous of Tyler, no matter how my emotions decided to react.
Dani looked from Isaac to Tyler, then to the rest of the men in the room; all their eyes were trained on her.
I slipped out of the room and pulled out my phone, scrolling to find Dani in my contact list. As soon as she popped up, I called her number.
Seconds later, her phone started to ring. I listened as she started rummaging through her purse. “Sorry, I was expecting a call. I should . . . I should take this. Bye, guys.”
She stepped into the hallway just as she pulled out her phone. She looked at the screen, then looked up, then back to her phone again, her face awash with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, dropping her phone back into her bag.
“Don’t mention it.”
She followed me up the narrow stairway and down a long hallway into a single bedroom that comprised the upstairs. I flipped the light, disappointed to see just how dismal the room actually appeared. It was completely bare, nothing but the red couch pushed into the corner and a row of boxes stacked to the left of the door. Only one window graced the room—a narrow transom that ran across the top of the far wall. “This feels really depressing,” I said. “I’m almost sorry I suggested it.”
She made a derisive noise. “So then I’d be where? Back on the street? Trust me. As tired as I am, I’d sleep just about anywhere right now.”
I wheeled her suitcases across the floor and lined them against the wall, to the right of the couch. She needed a table. And a chair. A lamp and a rug for the floor. But then, if we were going to go that far, she needed a bed instead of a dingy sofa. There had to be some things sitting around Isaac’s that could be moved into her room. I made a mental note to take a look when I went back to the main house. “I’ll see if I can find you some blankets, at least. And a spare pillow.” Even if it meant bringing her something from my own room, I could at least do that much.
“That would be great.” She sank onto the couch, settling back into the cushions. “At least it’s comfortable,” she said. “I left all my stuff back in New York. It’s sitting in a trailer at Mirna’s house. Chase is going to drive it down for me in a few weeks.”
“Darius’s mom, Mirna?” I asked.
“Yeah. She actually told me to tell you hello.”
“How’s she doing?”
Dani smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen since she’d arrived. “She’s officially in remission. Chase and Darius are still trying to figure out how to pay for everything, but the cancer is gone, which makes it all feel worth it, I guess.”
Chase and Darius and Mirna felt like part of another life, a separate life, with a version of myself far removed from the person I’d been for the past year. But Chase and Darius, Paige and Reese—they had mattered in a real way. A pang of guilt settled into my gut. When I’d walked out on Dani, I’d walked out on them all.
“I wish I’d done a better job of staying in touch,” I said softly.
“Why didn’t you?” Dani asked. There was an edge of defensiveness to her tone, but this time, I didn’t think her malice had anything to do with the hurt I’d caused her. She really was just thinking about her friends, which somehow made the guilt feel even heavier.
“I don’t know. It felt easier at the time. They still had you. And I knew they’d listen to your side of the story. I guess I felt like you deserved to keep them as friends more than I did. And I didn�
��t want them to have to choose sides.”
“But they cared about you, too. You literally just vanished. I mean, you and Darius used to text all the time.”
“I know. You’re right,” I said. “I should have done better.”
She shrugged. “It’s not too late. I think they’d all be happy to hear from you.” She hesitated. “Maybe not Paige. She’s still pretty heavily ‘Team Dani’ at this point. But the others? You should reach out.”
The idea of reconnecting with pieces of my New York life was surprisingly welcome. Intimidating as hell, but not impossible. The past year hadn’t exactly been easy; I’d covered everything from anger to self-pity to quiet introspection and had only recently started to feel like I had a reasonable hold on my emotions. Realizing I felt ready to reach out to any part of my former life felt like no small victory. “You don’t think it would be weird? For you, I mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “Weirder than living in my brother’s studio while my ex-boyfriend lives with him in the big house and works as his business manager? We’re so far into weird territory, I think I can handle sharing friends.”
I chuckled softly. “Thank you for saying so. I do miss everyone.”
“Then reach out,” she said. “I think it’s a good idea. And you can tell them all I said so.”
“Thanks, Dani,” I said. “I mean it.”
I had so many questions. Why had she left? What had happened at work? But the peace between us felt so fragile, I couldn’t risk ruining it.
She offered a small smile. “So how are things with the Compassion Experiment? Is it all coming together like you hoped?”
“I think so,” I said. “The event planner is making it pretty easy, though I do feel like I’m constantly fielding phone calls, answering one question or another. But it’s pulling together. The biggest challenge we face is finding a closing act.”
“Did you ever hear from Red Renegade? Didn’t you tell me you reached out to their agent?”
I nodded. “I never heard from them. I think Isaac has accepted it was never going to happen, but he still wants something musical; I’m not sure who he thinks we’ll be able to book only two months out.”
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