Page 257 of Rush

“Good,” she says firmly. “You did the right thing.”

“Do you think you only want Alex because he was your first? Maybe you’re just holding on to the nostalgia of him?” Riley asks.

I ponder that for a moment, perhaps she’s right. I shrug. “I don’t know…”

Riley leans closer. “But what about Broderick? You said being with him was helping?”

“I don’t deserve him,” I say, too fast.

Broderick is the light. Being with him is as easy as breathing—and just like oxygen, I need him.

“Why would you say that?” Philippa asks, squeezing my hand.

“Maybe I’m following in Mom’s footsteps—loving the wrong man, destroy my life.”

Riley and Philippa both groan and roll their eyes exasperated.

“Elena, that’s dramatic.” Philippa sighs, snapping some sense into me.

Riley’s tone softens. “Or maybe you just need to learn to love what’s good for you.”

“I wish it were that simple. I’m stuck between a memory and something real. I don’t know how to let go when part of me is still holding on.”

Philippa exhales, preparing a lecture. “I know you probably don’t want my opinion, but why don’t you give Broderick a real chance? Outside whatever casual arrangement you two have going on.”

There it is. The one question I’m not sure I can truthfully answer.

“I don’t know. What if I break things and we can’t go back?”

“You won’t know until you try,” Riley says.

And she’s right. We did, over the holidays we had crossed that line, throwing caution to the wind and living in that blissful happiness of—more.

New Years Eve, I felt the tide changing, like I was finally ready to take that step and move forward. And then, like a storm, Alex rips right through it.

And now I don’t know anymore.

“It’s his birthday soon,” Philippa adds more gently. “Maybe do something nice. Try to forget all this crap with Alex—once and for all.”

Something in me flinches. The idea of finality. Severing whatever thread still ties me to Alex. But what if jumping headfirst into something new with Broderick, messes things up too.

Is it better to be the one chased than the one chasing?

Eventually, Philippa heads home, and Riley leaves for the studio. I stay behind, grateful for the quiet.

I put onThe Lord of the Rings—something comforting. I used to watch it with Mom and Jack. My eyelids grow heavy, the hum of the TV a soft lullaby, when a knock jolts me awake.

Not a buzz from downstairs. A knock.

My stomach drops. Maybe if I ignore it, they’ll go away.

Another knock.

I groan, setting the mug down. I haven’t showered or brushed my hair, and I’m swimming in one of Philippa’s oversized Columbia sweatshirts.

The next knock is softer.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pad to the door and open it.