Page 216 of Rush

I shake my head.

“Eleanor Josephine Montgomery—don’t you lie to me.”

“Riley, I’m so scared.”

“Of what?”

“I’m scared of hurting him. Of hurting myself. Of thisnotbeing just sex anymore. I’m still messed up over Alex, and—God—Istillthink about him. Those feelings don’t just magically go away.”

Riley doesn’t interrupt.

“I think about the what-ifs. What we could’ve been if things were different.”

“Yeah. If he wore a condom and didn’t knock up his fuck buddy,” she says flatly.

That pulls a laugh out of me. A real one. “Exactly.”

She leans her head against mine. “You’re allowed to be confused. You’re allowed to still be angry. And heartbroken. But Elena, you deserve someone who doesn’t leave you without so much as a reason.”

“I know.”

“You deserve someone who shows up,” she adds, quieter. “Even when he’s halfway across the world. Even when he’s tired. Even when your whole life is on fire.”

I think about Broderick—on my birthday, the paparazzi ambush, the agreement, the wedding, all the times on tour and Thanksgiving. All the times he showed up, all the times he held me together.

I sob. She’s right. But I don’t even know what I did to deserve it.

“Oh, babe,” Riley sighs, sliding up the bed and wrapping her arms around me. I let myself fall into her, the sob breaking out of me before I can stop it.

We sit there a while, not saying anything.

Then her voice again—lighter this time. “You’ve gotta tell me your secret. Alex is still obsessed, and Broderick’s basically feral for you. Do you have...I don’t know...a magical vagina?”

“Riley!”

“Is that why you held off for so long? Were you just sparing the rest of us? You selfish bitch.” She grins.

The laugh that comes out of me is strangled, but real. For a moment, it feels good to forget about what happened.

“There she is,” she says, cupping my face in both hands. Her eyes are steady. No judgment, just love—like a lighthouse cutting through fog.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I love you,” she says, gentler now. “You deserve to be happy, El. Maybe Broderick can give you that. So why not try? Focus on something good.”

I glance down at the flowers again. “Maybe. I don’t know how you do it.”

She sighs, resting her chin on my shoulder. “You know me—move on to the next. But I get it. The heart’s a dumbass. It wants what it wants.”

For a moment, I let her words settle in, breaking through the storm clouds Alexander Westerberg left when he blew back into my life—it doesn’t fix everything, but it does ease the ache he left behind.

She nudges me with her elbow. “Why don’t you go do something nice for Brody. Rock his world. Make yourself feel better.”

I raise a brow. “You think sex is the solution to heartbreak?”

“I don’t think—I know,” she says, flopping back onto the mattress. “A good, thorough dicking can’t fix everything...but it’s a hell of a start. And from what you’ve told me about Broderick, he’s got a PhD in the field.”

“PhD?”