Page 294 of Rush

“Feel like you fucked up?”

I nod again.

She’s quiet for a moment. Then, gently, “So…are you in love with him?”

Yes.

“Not in the way he deserves,” I whisper, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

She doesn’t react. The silence stretches—uncomfortable, but not judgmental.

Finally, she asks, “Are you in love with both of them?”

I don’t answer.

But I don’t deny it either.

She sighs and leans back. “It’s clear you love them both, Elena. But they give you different things.”

“Doesn’t that make me a horrible person?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t think so.” She turns to look at me. “Alex gives you what youwant—the adrenaline, the passion, the validation. But his past is public knowledge. Every move he makes affects you, whether you like it or not. If you end up together, your careers will take the hit in the court of public opinion.”

She pauses, then continues more softly, “But Broderick—he’s reliable. He’s steady. He shows up when it matters. He challenges you, grounds you, and supports you unconditionally. And that’s what youneed.”

She’s right.

“You might feel like Alex is the right person for you right now,” she says. “But I know Broderick is the right person for you long-term.”

It’s the same thing she told me months ago—the truth she’s never wavered on when it comes to us.

Her gaze holds mine. “And I think you know that too.”

“But what do I do with all of this?” I ask. “It’s been months, and even now my heart still calls to Alex.”

“Well,” she says gently, “that’s first love for you. You never really forget them. They always hold a special place.”

“Is that it?”

She shrugs. “More than likely.”

“Do you remember your first love?” I ask, curiosity piqued.

“Yep. But he stopped mattering once I found my Andrew.” She chuckles softly, rubbing a hand over her belly.

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask. “You know—with the pregnancy.”

“Nice topic change,” she deadpans. Then, more seriously, “Have you spoken to Broderick?”

“He asked for space.”

“Ouch.”

I groan.

“Thanks for making me feel worse. He’s too good for me,” I admit.

“Why don’t you let him decide what’s good for him?”