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“I know,” I agree with my little brother even though it costs me.
“Good, hang on. Let me go get Emily, she is the resident burnout expert.”
I frown immediately. “She’s there? At this hour?”
Emily has been Jordan’s best friend since middle school. She has gone on to have a successful career in psychology, focusing on high achievers. Jordan hires her often to work with his companies to reduce turnover.
I hear muffled movement and Jordan calling, “Emmy-Bee? Jackson accidentally emotionally attached himself to someone.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
A distant laugh answers me anyway before Emily’s voice comes through the phone.
“Hi, Jackson.”
“Sorry to drag you into this.”
“Oh, I’m not being dragged. Jordan announced it like breaking news.”
I hear Junior protest.
“So the burnout part concerns me. We can talk about the relationship mess up another time.”
“That’s what I was calling about.” Like I would ever call my idiot brother for relationship advice.
“Then stop trying to fix it.”
I blink. “What? Why not?”
“Everyone’s first instinct with burnout is to solve it. More sleep. Different environment. Better schedule. The people who care start treating them like a project.”
I lean my hip against the counter, frowning. “And that’s bad?”
“It can be. Burned-out individuals already feel like they’re failing at everything. When everyone rushes in with solutions, it reinforces the idea that they’re broken.”
Damn it, that’s exactly what I was going to do. “What am I supposed to do then?”
“Witness it.”
The answer catches me off guard. “Uh, come again?”
Emily laughs softly before continuing on. “Notice it. Believe her when she tells you she’s exhausted. Give her room to be scared. Let her decide what comes next.”
The kitchen falls silent as her words sink in. “Witness it,” I repeat.
The call ends with Jordan laughing at me in the background about my love problems, ironic really since he is the blind one.
As the conversation runs through my head, I stare at the dark screen of my laptop and then get to work. Two emails sent, one meeting rescheduled, and another delegated.
When I’m finished with the work logistics, I navigate to the large auto store’s website one town over and put a hold on a remote start that’s perfect for Phoenix’s car. I may be shit at construction work, but I know cars. I can’t control where she parks, but I can at least make sure she is warm.
15
JACKSON
I’ve been up for hours putting cottage touches everywhere. The kind of small things she’d have chosen herself if she weren’t busy being in pain and furious with me. Every room in her house is soft somewhere. The comfy chair. The cozy blanket. Even the rounded edges of her tables. I used to think that was just her taste. Now, I think there’s more to it.
I hear her crutching into the kitchen and look up from my laptop. My eyes go to her before I can stop them—the cast first, then her face, then the cast again. My jaw tightens. She wouldn’t be in it if I hadn’t royally screwed up. If I didn’t make her believe she was alone and had to move that damn mattress herself. Hell, she wouldn’t have even had to move the mattress if she didn’t feel like she had to move in the first place.
