The next morning, Brandon stood at the edge of the field, the crisp breeze brushing against his skin as the sun rose behind Levi's Stadium. The coaching staff was deep in film review meetings, but he'd asked for a quiet moment alone first—time to pray, to breathe, to listen.
Clutched in his hand was the second scripture notebook Genevieve had given him, worn from his constant use. He flipped to the verse she'd shared the night before:
Ether 12:27
"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness."
He read it again, slowly. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"Help me stay humble, Lord… even when everything feels like it's rising," he whispered.
That's when he felt it—that peace again. That steady calm he always felt when she was near.
And right on cue, his phone buzzed.
Genevieve: Morning, QB. Want to meet me at the chapel later? I feel like we both need it.
Brandon: Always. What time, Baby Girl?
Genevieve: Noon. The one near the Bay.
He smiled, heart lifting. There was something sacred about the way they chose the Lord—together.
Back in Burbank…
Peyton Meyer sat alone in his Disney Channel dressing room, the walls around him quiet except for the low hum of studio lights. His scenes had wrapped for the day, but he wasn't celebrating. Not today.
He scrolled through social media, and there they were again—Brandon Richards and Genevieve Hannelius. Smiling. Praying. Walking along the marina hand in hand.
"Power couple."
"She left Disney for love?"
"Brandon & Genevieve are the real deal."
"Sorry Peyton, your girl just joined Team 49ers."
Peyton tossed his phone onto the couch with a loud thud, jaw tightening.
He hadn't even gotten over her missing one game to fly up north to San Francisco. That one missed episode taping had changed everything. And now?
She was leaving.
Not just the studio.
The whole show.
They were canceling Dog With A Blog—because she was leaving. Because she wanted to spend more time in the music studio and on stage. Because she only wanted to be with Brandon.
"She chose him."
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
Back in San Francisco…
Genevieve walked quietly into the chapel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, scriptures in one hand, a small journal in the other. Her heart fluttered when she saw Brandon already there, seated near the front pew, his head bowed.
She sat down beside him, their shoulders gently brushing.
"Hi," she whispered.
He looked up, his eyes soft and full of love. "Hey."
They bowed their heads in prayer, whispering quietly to Heaven. Then they studied scriptures together, talking about trust, fear, and tuning out the world's noise to hear the whisper of God's voice.
"I'm scared sometimes," she admitted quietly. "Not about us. But about the noise… the pressure. What people say."
Brandon reached for her hand, his voice steady. "Let them talk. As long as we keep listening to Him, we'll be okay."
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she smiled. "You help me hear Him more clearly."
That evening, the marina boardwalk glowed under strings of golden lights as they walked hand in hand. Tourists passed, a few snapping photos, but Brandon and Genevieve stayed in their little bubble, focused only on each other.
He stopped walking and turned to her. "Would it be crazy if I said I want you to meet my parents soon?"
Genevieve blinked. "No… not crazy. Actually, I was hoping you'd ask."
He grinned. "This Sunday?"
She laughed softly. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious. I want them to meet the girl who makes me a better man."
She squeezed his hand. "Then Sunday it is, Baby."
Back in Burbank…
Peyton stared at the unsent text on his phone:
"Can we talk?"
He erased it.
Then tried again.
"I'm sorry."
Deleted.
He opened his DMs and scrolled through his media contacts.
His fingers hovered. Then tapped.
And in that moment—hurt, jealous, and not thinking straight—he made a decision he might live to regret.