Page 186 of Rush

“I need some space.”

I get in and slam the door shut before she can say anything else.

“Where to?” Luca asks.

“I don’t know, can we drive around for a bit?”

“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you need.”

As Luca navigates the streets, my mind is a mess. Quiet tears streaming down, as I try to come to terms with what just happened. It feels like the moment we take a few steps forward, I get yanked back. I sigh, sinking deeper into the seat. Will we ever be able to fix what’s broken between us?

We pass Goodman Enterprises—Broderick’s building. I wonder what he’s doing. I pull out my phone, tapping his name.

As it rings, I realize he might be celebrating Thanksgiving with his family—people who probably don’t judge him for his life choices. Just as I’m about to hang up?—

“Hey,” Broderick answers.

“Hey, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to bother you. You’re probably busy?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice concerned. “Do you want me to come get you?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Physically, I’m okay—my ego, my pride…not so much.

Mortimer pressed on every Alex-shaped bruise like it was sport.

“Baby, you can always call me. Even if I’m halfway across the world. You have me. Always.”

I breathe in his words. Usually, that kind of declaration from him would have me running for the hills, but in this moment—I need it. I need him.

“Are you sure? Can I see you? If that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“You could never intrude. Of course, come,” he says.

“Where are you?”

“Harlem. Lenox and 117th.”

I hang up and relay the details to Luca. It doesn’t take long to reach our destination. As Luca pulls up to the curb, I stare out the window, confused.

“Where are we?”

“Lenox and 117th, ma’am.”

I groan, having let his earlier discretion slide before. “Ma’am—Luca, we’ve been over this. Just call me Elena please—friends remember?”

“Okay.” He chuckles. We slow to a stop. A small crowd mills near a squat brick building with peeling paint and a faded blue awning. People filter in and out, some carrying crates, others ushering people through the door. The sidewalk buzzes with quiet urgency—bodies shifting, coats layered, heads down.

“What is this place?”

“Soup kitchen, I think.” He shrugs.

I lean forward, squinting past the windshield.What the hell would Broderick be doing here?

Luca shifts. “I’ll need to accompany you inside. It may not be safe.”

“Why?”