Page 137 of Rush

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"For what?"

"For believing in me when I don't believe in myself."

We leave the clubhouse around midnight and ride back to my flat in silence.

Inside, Rush is tense, restless.

"Talk to me," I say.

"I keep thinking about what your dad said."

"About what?"

"About me being broken, about hurting you eventually."

"He's wrong."

"What if he's not?"

I take his face in my hands and make him look at me.

"Listen to me very carefully. You are not broken. You are not going to hurt me. And my father does not get to decide who you are."

"He hit every insecurity I have."

"I know he did. That's what he does. But, Rush, you stood your ground. You didn't back down, you didn't run. You faced him head-on."

"I wanted to run."

"But you didn't. That's what matters."

He pulls me close and we stand there in my kitchen holding each other.

"I'm scared," he admits quietly.

"Of what?"

"That I'm going to prove him right."

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Because you're choosing me every single day even when it's hard. That's not what broken people do."

He kisses me and it's slow and grounding. His hands are gentle on my face.

When he pulls back his forehead rests against mine.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too."

"Even though your dad hates me?"

"My dad doesn't hate you. He's just being protective. He'll come around."

"You sure about that?"

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