Page 55 of Rush

I strip out of my show attire before heading upstairs to meet up with everyone. The afterglow of my set buzzes through the air, champagne bottles popping and clinking as I enter the Montgomery private suite—aside from the front row, it was arguably the best view in the house.

Plush chairs, a private kitchenette where refreshments are laid out for guests to enjoy, it was truly VIP treatment.

Philippa bounds over, throwing her arms around me. “Youwere amazing,” she gushes. “Seriously. I’m not just saying that as your sister.”

“She’s right,” Andrew says, offering me a high-five. “You owned that stage.”

“Babe you were such a flirt, the crowd was eating it up!” Riley adds, toasting her glass to me. “I had chills when you did that version ofSparks.”

Broderick stands back, watching me, a small smile tugging at his lips, dimples bobbing on his cheeks.

I swallow as the thoughts I had of him on stage flash back in my mind.

“You were spectacular,” he says, quiet but sincere, and something about the way he looks at me makes my stomach twist.

I smile, cheeks warm. “Thanks.”

Music signals the start of Ava’s set, the crowd screaming below us. Broderick waits for me to make the first move toward the viewing balcony.

“I’m glad you made it,” I say to Broderick as Ava croons in the background, her voice melting through the air like honey.

“You wanted me here,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

And somehow, it tugs at my heartstrings—a quiet reminder of all the times he’s shown up. When I asked. And even when I didn’t.

The drinks flow, Riley and Philippa dance like idiots, Andrew laughing along, and for a moment, everything feels good.

But the surrounding noise all melts away, because all I can think about is how close we’re standing to one another, wordless as we watch the show. The soft bass vibrating beneath our feet, the distant glow of stage lights flickering against his profile. I’m acutely aware of the warmth radiating off him, the quiet steadiness of his presence.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offers, his arm a mere breath against mine. The brief contact sends a pulse through me.

I swallow. “I’m okay for now, thank you.” We turn our attention back to Ava’s set, but now our arms touch. I can feel the hairs on his arm brush mine gently, and it sends shivers up my spine.

Our breaths fall into the same rhythm. I try to focus on the stage, but all I can think about is how goodhistouch feels.

His lips on mine the night of my birthday.

The feel of his chest beneath me as I woke up in his arms.

The stolen moment where we almost kissed again in his office.

How the ache of Alex seems to dissolve when I’m near him.

What if Broderick could make me forget?

The thought takes me by surprise and my breathing changes as Ava shifts into an acoustic number. Before I have a moment to settle into the feeling Riley pounces, grabbing my hand and pulling me away so we can dance and sing together.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers in my ear between choruses. “You’re doing it—Tita Vida would beso proud.”

I hug her tightly, fighting the sting of tears at the mention of my mom. “It’s for her.”

“I know, but it’s for you too.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you though.”

Her eyes go glossy. “Please, you just needed a little push.”

“Babe, you literally tied a rope around me and yanked me out of my deep, dark depression.”