Page 180 of Rush

Broderick glances around the apartment, slow and familiar. The gorilla balloon floats above the couch.

“See you got my surprise,” he says, grinning.

“I did—thank you.”

But then his smile fades, and I don’t need to ask why.

He sees the roses. On the dining table. Still front and center. Brazen. Beautiful. Impossible to miss. I didn’t have the heart to throw them out. Now, with the look on his face, I regret that I didn’t.

“Who sent those?”

The air thickens—static, heavy, charged.

“They were delivered the day the nominations were announced,” I say quietly.

“Elena.”

“They’re from Alex.” The words sting as they leave my mouth.

He exhales, slow. Nods once. “I don’t get that guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“He dumps you, gets back with his ex, then sends this?” He gestures toward the roses, like they’re somehow to blame. “What’s he playing at?”

I shrug. He’s not wrong.

I always thought breakups came with distance. A line drawn between before and after.

But this? This is a mess.

This hurts.

I miss him.

The thought lands fast. Shameful. But true. Even though he was never really mine.

“I wouldn’t know,” I murmur.

“What do you mean?” he asks, leaning against the island, watching me too closely.

Heat rises up my neck. I turn to the fridge, needing something to touch, to hold, to distract me.

“El?”

I grab a water bottle, twist the cap and hand it to him.

“Because he was my first,” I say. “Andonlyrelationship.”

It takes a second for it to sink in. Then realization flashes across his face.

Silence stretches.

But my chest is already cracked open.

Alex was the first man I ever let in. Everything with him felt like lightning. All consuming. Immediate. When it ended, it didn’t just burn out. It burned through me.

Broderick takes a slow sip from the bottle, never looking away.