Page 283 of Rush

He nods. “I do. But not right now. Eventually.” His voice is strained, his green eyes peering into mine, pleading with me to reconsider.

“Yes, but that’s the problem, before coming here, my world was this small,” I pinch my fingers together, “you want marriage, you want kids. I don’t even know what I want. I’m still figuring it all out. I don’t want to be caged-in just when my life is starting. I don’t even know if I want those things.”

“But, I don’t want those things with anyone, I want them withyou.” He searches my eyes. “I’m not asking for it now, I’m asking for a chance to explore what we could become.”

“And what? After a year, after two years you realize I’m not what you want, and I’ve wasted your time? You’ll resent me, then we’ll fight and break up and it ends bitterly and I lose you. Forever? I can’t Broderick. Ineedyou in my life.”

“As what? A friend you like to fuck?” he retorts hurt flashing across his face.

My own words I’d spoken to Alex echo painfully.I don’t want to be someone you just fuck.The bitter irony stings.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you, yes,” I confess pathetically.

The silence settles between us as I watch the thoughts swirl behind his eyes.

“And if I said I didn’t want to do that anymore?

“I’d hope not, because the sex is phenomenal, I fear I may be ruined forever,” I say, trying for a joke.

“That was the plan.” He chuckles darkly.

He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his stubble, it looks a little longer now.

“The problem is, baby, when I look at you…I see the face of our children, the face I want to see before I go to sleep, the first thing I want to see when I wake. The face I want to come home to when I’ve been all over the world. The one I want to grow old with.”

“Broderick,” I breathe, tears pouring freely from my eyes.

His confession rips all the air from my lungs, caressing something deep inside me. His pure devotion is better than what I deserve. We stand at the edge of a cliff and I’m not sure if I can handle the outcome of the fall.

I’m scared.

All the fears are still there, amplified now because he’s all but raised the stakes, and I simply cannot match what he’s willing to give me.

Broderick cups my cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears. He plants a soft kiss on my forehead, like I’m something precious.

“Elena.”

He presses his forehead into mine while I sob silently.

“So, what now?” I ask between huffs.

He leans back, letting my face go, he regards me for a moment, rubbing his jaw again. “I don’t know, I think we need some time.”

“Okay...” I say weakly.

“Apart,” he clarifies softly.

The word crashes into me, a punch straight to the heart, stealing my breath. “Brody, please. No.”

“Yes, Elena. You need time to figure things out—your music, the Grammys. Everything you’ve worked for. You need space.” His voice trembles, laced with resignation. “And truthfully, I need it too.”

“Space?” I repeat numbly.

“Yeah. Maybe some distance will help you see clearly. Maybe you’ll miss me.”

“Maybe,” I whisper miserably, lip trembling again. “But what about you? What will you do?”

“You know me. Married to my work, right?” He forces a gentle smile, though sadness shadows his eyes. “She’ll keep me warm.”