Page 8 of The Fall Fix Up

Janae leaned against the gutted counter and tried to ignore when the wood shifted. She pressed the edge of the mug to her lips without drinking, trying to think about how to respond. Braeden was like a dog with a damn bone when she got it into her head that something was wrong. It was part of what made her such a good lawyer, but when she turned it on Janae, it made her annoying as hell. Inside the courtroom, Braeden was bound by the law and the judge presiding over it. Outside of that, she was a wild woman who lobbed gut shots for fun.

“It’s just . . . dealing with the house. Things still aren’t as far along as I had hoped they would be by now. The contractors had a setback, so it’s just making me a little nervous,” Janae said, settling on a half-truth.

“You mean because of the fire?”

Damn it. Janae wasn’t sure why she’d thought Braeden wouldn’t have heard what happened. “Yes, because of the fire,” she replied, not bothering to hide anymore. She should have known better than to try that in the first place.

Braeden hummed for a moment. “I heard that it took out the entire apartment building. Your apartment building, to be precise.”

She sighed deeply before taking a large sip of her coffee. “Okay, tell me what you’ve heard.”

“Sis, it’s all over social media. Peach Blossom’s one and only apartment complex goes up in flames, and suddenly half the town is displaced. You’re lucky Mom and Dad are still living in analog otherwise they would’ve been on the first flight down there.”

Janae knew Braeden was telling the truth. Their parents were wonderfully supportive, but sometimes that support became a bit too much—a bit too smothering. “Please don’t say anything until I do. I don’t want them to worry about things when I have it all handled.”

Braeden groaned teasingly. “You know I hate lying to them.”

“Please, Dennie,” Janae said, not afraid to pull out the nickname she only used when she was asking her sister for a favor. “I’m already moved into my house. I just . . . It just needs more time to get fixed up.”

“More time?” Silence stretched for a beat. Then Braeden’s voice softened. “I was calling to remind you about my visit in two weeks. I already got the days off and you know how Patrick is when plans change abruptly.”

Patrick was the partner at Braeden’s firm. Janae had met him a couple times. While he was a nice enough guy, when he had asked her out to dinner, she had instantly known it wouldn’t work between them. Never mind the fact that he worked with her twin, but the man was anal retentive. They would not have meshed well at all regardless of her relationship status.

A pang of longing cut through Janae’s chest, but she pushed it down. As much as she missed Braeden, she did not want her to come and see the chaos that was Janae’s current circumstances.

“Don’t come.”

“It’s a done deal,” Braeden countered.

“Dennie, it’s not a good time. The fire is still causing major disruptions in how the town is functioning. And with the house and everything, I just don’t think it’ll be a fun or relaxing visit. I’m fine. You don’t need to drive all the way here just to check on me. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Janae,” Braeden bit out, tone sharp like steel. “You told me the move to Peach Blossom was temporary; a year or two at the most while you got some space from that man so you could find your inspiration again. Then you said you bought a house that you were fixing up and you swore it would just be a place you could visit when you needed to get away. Now, there’s been a fire that sent most of your shit up in flames, you’re living in a damn construction zone, and you want me to not come?”

When she put it like that, the past few years had been a bit of a mishap. It probably wasn’t helping sell the story of Janae being fine and happily settled when technically she couldn’t even cook a meal in the house she was living in. Still, she had to push it anyway. “And I want you to keep it quiet from our parents.” Janae could almost hear Braeden clenching her jaw. “They’ll worry, sis. You know how they get. Especially Mom. And I don’t think I could handle an ‘I told you so’ right now without crashing out publicly.”

“If you came back home—”

“This is home right now, Braeden,” Janae cut in, her voice firm. “I like it here—more than I thought I would. The people are kind, and I’ve finally made friends who have nothing to do with our family or . . .” She trailed off, not finishing her sentence, but she knew Braeden would follow her thought.

Braeden sighed, long and heavy, the sound she always made when she was about to take on one more fight on Janae’s behalf. “You’re stubborn, you know that? You’ve always been so damn stubborn even when we were kids.”

“It’s better than being weak,” Janae replied, thinking about how life had been before she moved down here.

“You’ve never been weak, Nae. I wish you knew that.”

Janae let the silence stretch between them. What she didn’t say, and never really could say out loud, was that the weakness she feared had nothing to do with moving houses or rediscovering her inspiration. It was the shadow of her impending divorce from Peter, the man she had once trusted with her art and her heart. It was the prenup he was still trying to fight even after two years of being separated. She feared the secrets she hadn’t told their parents because she couldn’t bear the smug pity in their eyes if they knew they’d been right in not wanting her to marry him.

“Janae,” Braeden said, softer this time as if soothing a wild raccoon. “You don’t have to fight every battle alone.”

“Maybe not,” Janae murmured. She swallowed hard before speaking again. “Listen, I have to run to the grocery store. Can we finish this later? I love you.”

“Nae—”

She hung up before she could hear the rest of Braeden’s words.

Janae only had so much willpower against the mirror that was Braeden. And right now, that mirror had to remain covered if she was going to keep moving forward.

The grocery store smelled faintly of cinnamon when Janae pushed through the doors. It wasn’t like the artificial scent she’d grown up with, like a wall diffuser turned on high. It was the kind of natural sweetness she’d become familiar with since moving to town, a promise of warm cider and pumpkin pies with a good dollop of whipped cream on top.