Page 180 of Rush
"Not yet, but you will be if you don't start asking for what you need too."
I think about that, really think about it.
"What do I need?" I ask quietly.
"That's for you to figure out, but Everly, you're allowed to want happiness. You're allowed to need support. You're not just here to hold Rush together."
The permission hits something deep.
"Thank you," I say.
"For what?"
"For reminding me I'm allowed to take up space too."
She smiles. "Always, and Everly? I'm here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it."
Our friendship shifts in that moment from surface-level to something deeper, chosen family instead of just lab partners who grab coffee.
I walk home alone afterward and my mind is racing. My life doesn't look anything like what I planned six months ago. I was supposed to be focusing on my research, building my career, figuring out who I am. Instead I'm pregnant with a man I've been with for three months, navigating club politics and my dad's disapproval. But somehow it feels more real than anything I imagined for myself.
I touch my stomach as I walk—still flat, still no sign of the life growing inside. The baby feels abstract still, more concept than reality, but Rush feels real, the club feels real, this life I'm building feels real.
My dad will come around eventually, or he won't. Either way I'm making this choice, not because Rush needs me to—although he does—but because I want to, because loving him isn't just about supporting him through his darkness. It's about choosing the life we're building together. Fear exists. It's always going to exist. But so does hope, and right now hope feels stronger.
I realize something as I turn onto my street, I've been so focused on being Rush's safe place that I forgot to check if I'm safe too. Maya's right, I'm allowed to need support. I'm allowed to ask for what I want. I'm not just here to hold Rush together while I fall apart.
This baby, this relationship, this life…I'm choosing it for me too, not just for him.
For me.
Rush shows up at my flat around eight that night. I hear his bike before I see him, then his knock on the door. When I open it, he looks wound tight, his jaw clenched and his shoulders locked.
"Hey," I say, giving him a soft smile.
"Hey," he responds, grinning back at me.
"You okay?" I ask, my brows knitting together. Why is he standing there?
"Can I come in?"
I blink. Why is he hesitant? "Of course." I open the door wider and let him in. He walks inside and I close the door, watch as he paces my living room. Something happened at the clubhouse. I can tell by the way he's moving.
"Talk to me," I ask, not wanting to push.
"I don't even know where to start."
"Anywhere."
He stops pacing and looks at me. "Pyro wants me to take on more responsibility. Says now that I'm having a kid, I need to step up."
"And you don't want to?"
"It's not that I don't want to. It's just... more pressure. More eyes on me, waiting for me to fuck up."
I don't push, just wait for him to keep talking.
"Everyone keeps congratulating me like this is some huge accomplishment. But all I can think about are all the ways I could ruin this."
