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Logan started the engine, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “We’re going to get through this,” he said, glancing at me. “You’re not alone in this, Brody. We’ve got a plan, and we’ll make it work.”

“What if it doesn’t?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, raw and desperate.

Logan’s jaw tightened, but his tone didn’t waver. “Then we’ll figure it out. You've got Noah now. You have a future and don’t get to give up, little brother. Not on this, and not on yourself.”

I turned my head, meeting his steady gaze. I wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope in his voice, but the fear was too loud, drowning out everything else. For now, I could only nod and hope he was right.

I owed it to Noah to tell him. No more delays, no more half-truths. He deserved to know what was happening, to understand the risks and the reality of being with me post-operation. But even as I thought about it, my chest tightened again. How could I tell him without making him see me as fragile or broken?

“Have you thought about telling anyone else?”

I was horrified. “Not our fucking grandfather, he’d monetize it somehow, make me a huge pity party, and?—”

“I meant Jemima.”

“We message,” I hedged.

“So you’ve told her about the aneurysm?”

“No. She knows I’m bi though.”

He shot me a pointed look. “Call her before the media gets hold of it.”

The car was silent except for the soft hum of the engine, and I hesitated, staring at the name on my screen.Jemima. It had been months since we’d last talked, but she was still one of the few people in my life whoactuallyknew me—who’d seen me at my best and worst and never judged me for either.

I’d lost track of where in the world she was, but I hitcall,half hoping she’d answer and half hoping I could leave a message. The line rang once, twice, and then?—

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite ex.”

Her voice was the same as ever, light and teasing, but I could hear the undercurrent of surprise. I nevercalledout of the blue; we always messaged.

“Hey, J,” I said, exhaling. “You got a minute?”

“For you? Always. What’s up?”

I swallowed. “I need to tell you something. And I don’t want you to hear it from the media.”

Her breath hitched. “What is it?”

I forced the words out. “I have an aneurysm. In my brain. They found it after my crash in Vegas.”

Silence. Long enough that I checked the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

Then, her voice, small and broken. “Oh my God, Brody.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m okay. It’s—small. Stable, for now. But I need surgery.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

A shaky breath. Another pause, and then, in true Jemima fashion, she sniffed, pulled herself together, and squared her shoulders, even if I couldn’t see it. “Well. Chin up, Vance. You’ll get through surgery, and when you do, we’re celebrating. I’ll visit when I’m back from Europe. And if you need me before that… you get that sexy brother of yours to call me.”

Logan snorted under his breath, and I huffed a quiet laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. “You don’t have to?—”

“Shut up, I want to.” Her voice softened. “I love you, B.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Love you too, J.”