Page 268 of Rush

But I take his hand anyway.

We ride the carousel first.

It’s slow, corny, and something in me loves it anyway—Broderick half-lounging on a tiger, legs spread like he owns the whole park—which for the night he does.

Broderick shoots me a grin over his shoulder as the music wheezes through the speakers and the lights spin above us in dizzy gold.

We hit the bumper cars next. I sideswipe him so hard he spins out. Broderick gets his revenge two minutes later with a full-throttle slam that nearly cracks my spine.

Then the swings. The ones that lift you so high your feet skim the clouds. He laughs the entire time—loud, unfiltered—while I scream every curse I know in English and Tagalog.

By the time we stagger off, windblown and breathless, something’s settles between us.

It dawns on me—this is the longest we’ve spent together—alone, start to finish, without kissing. Without falling into each other like gravity. No heavy touches. No urgent mouths. Just...space. Laughter. Heat tucked in the background, waiting its turn.

And it still feels electric.

He leads me toward one of those rigged carnival games—the kind no one ever wins. But Broderick does, obviously. Knocking over three grimy cans with one throw, smirks at me like he’s just solved world peace.

“What will you have?” the carnival operator asks.

Broderick glances down at me.

“That one,” I say pointing to the stuffed gorilla.

He pulls it off the hook with ease and hands me the prize without a word.

I hug it anyway, an excited giggle escapes me.

“Can’t believe you actually won.”

He leans in, voice low. “I’m very good with my hands.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

A shiver skates down my spine.

“You cold?” he asks.

“A little.” I place the stuffed gorilla on the bench and step into him, closing the space between us, arms snaking around his waist, sliding beneath his coat.

His body is all heat. Dense muscle. Familiar.

I press my face into his chest and inhale slow, like I can drag him into my bloodstream. His scent—dark and a little smoky—settles behind my ribs and stays there.

I ache to kiss him.

Not out of want.

Out of need.

And maybe he feels it too, because his arms tighten around me. His chin brushes the top of my head, his breath warm against my temple.

My heart kicks harder—wild, warning,wake up.

“Broderick,” I whisper, barely audible.

“Hmm?”