“You’re gonna do great. You’re going to get this job, June. Trust me. I know these things.” I bite my lip, looking away, then deciding that maybe one more thing off my chest would help.
“Even if I don’t get this, I’m not going back to teaching.” I bite my lip, taking in a deep breath before confessing what I did this morning. “I already sent Mrs. Jones an email, telling her as much.” She replied near instantly, seeming relieved and telling me Mrs. Evans was planning on delaying her retirement, so all’s well that ends well, I suppose.
I guess it really was the universe guiding me along after all. If there was even a shot that my job wouldn’t be there next fall, I never would have taken a leave. But god, I’m so glad I did. Even if in this moment, it means my stomach is completely tied up in knots.
Grant nods, but doesn’t speak, and I try to fill in the silence.
“I know you’re disappointed—” I start, but his brows furrow, confused, before he finally speaks.
“Disappointed? Why would I be disappointed?”
I blink at him, unsure. “Because I’m turning into Mom. Because I’m chasing art instead of something practical. Because?—”
He shakes his head, quickly stopping me in my tracks. “June bug, I would never think that.”
“You wouldn’t?” He takes a step closer to me, concern on his face. “You’re not Mom, June. And not for nothing, Graham isn’t Dad.” Well,thatmuch is true. The mere idea makes a smallsmile spread on my lips, and his own tip up as well. “What I mean is, you’re responsible. You didn’t jump from teaching to art in a heartbeat.” I lift an eyebrow, and he laughs, his own sounding freer than mine. “Okay, well, you kind of did, but you had a backup to your backup. And pretty soon, you found a job, made your life stable, andthenbuilt an art career from the sidelines. And that was after years of hemming and hawing, planning to do just that. You also didn’t quit your job and move to Paris the moment you sold a single painting. Did you really think I would be disappointed if you didn’t go back to teaching?” I shrug, picking at the nails I painted last night, summer sky blue, Graham’s favorite color.
“You sacrificed a lot for me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. You could have gone away to school, could have left mom and dad’s house long before I was able to, but you stayed in Seaside Point to keep an eye on me. I know that.”
Something crosses his face, and I wonder if he thinks I didn’t know that, if he thought I was living blissfully unaware.
But instead, he shocks me.
“June, I was never going to go to a traditional college. I was always going to head into some kind of trade.” I blink at him, confused. “You may have gotten the creativity gene, but I got the working with my hands part of it and the resistance to authority. Do you really think I could have been wearing a tie and listening to some asshole tell me a report was due at ten?”
“I—” I start, but the mere thought of it makes me laugh, and if I’m being honest, even though I wasn’t even a teenager when he graduated high school, even then it wouldn’t have fit his style.
“I always want to work with my hands. I’m lucky that Miles’ dad took me in, showed me what he could before he passed, but this is what I was meant to do. I thought you knew that.”
“I mean, now that I’m being logical, I do.”
“And now that I'm being logical, I see that you weren’t.”
‘What?”
“Doing what you wanted to do.”
Guilt wracks through me. “I like?—”
“I know. I know, June. You like teaching. I know that. But you don’t live for it. You live for making art. I’m worry that I talked so much shit about Mom and Dad and their lifestyle, I didn’t make you feel safe in pursuing it. I should have been more mindful and?—”
“No, no,” I say, shaking my head and wiping a tear away. “We’re both idiots. Probably some kind of stilted emotional growth we can blame on our emotionally immature parents.”
Grant lets out a loud laugh, then shakes his head before pulling me in for a big hug. Wrapped in my brother’s arms in the same way I have been a million times over the years, my nerves melt away.
“Now, that was enough sappiness for a decade, at least. Go in there and kick some ass, June. You’re going to get the job; we all know it. But make it really hurt for those Stevens assholes, will you?” I pull back and smile, but his face goes soft. “It’s what Grandma and Grandpa would have wanted.”
“I thought you said no more sappiness,” I say, eyes welling once more. He grins, then steps back.
“I’m your big brother. It’s my job to be an asshole to you.” I roll my eyes, then go to say something in argument, as is a little sister’s way, but the door opens, and Maggie is in the doorway. She smiles wide at us before tipping her head inside.
“Come on, you two. Cece is about to present.”
My stomach flip-flops, and I hesitate, contemplating running, but Grant is behind me, pushing me inside.
“You’ve got this, June. You don’t need luck, or fate, or destiny. You’ve got talent. That’s all you need today.”
I nod, but when I walk in to see our entire crew looking at me, wide grins and thumbs up directed my way, I know he’s wrong.
