Page 153 of Rush

“Elena?” Riley calls after me, rising to her feet.

“I need some air.”

And in this moment—right now—I decide I need to seehim.

Chapter 19

Never Be the Same

Ispot a few paparazzi camped out across the road, and my pulse spikes, feverish beneath the hoodie and baseball cap. They might not recognize me, but I can’t risk giving them the chance by standing around waiting for Tony. Salvation comes in the form of a cab pulling up—someone hops out, and I slide in before the cameras catch me.

It feels like the universe just handed me my escape chariot. I rattle off his address, then lie flat against the backseat as we roll past the small cluster of lenses. My lungs burn with shallow breaths, the cab’s stale air filling me until we’re finally gone.

By the time I reach his building, adrenaline has dulled into a low buzz. I take the elevator up and punch in his code without hesitation, silently praying he’s home.

“Broderick?” I call out. Angry rock music crashes from down the hall—confirmation enough. My chest loosens with relief.

Rounding the corner, I find him in the gym, drenched in sweat and hammering the heavy bag. He doesn’t see me right away. I’ve never seen him box before, the sight knocks the air from me. The way he moves—controlled, brutal—sends heat straight through me. Sweat beads down his body, and all I canthink of is how that taste lingered on my tongue this morning during our ‘workout’.

He notices me in the mirror and stills, chest heaving.

“El—” His voice is rough. He yanks off the gloves, digs a remote out of his pocket, and kills the music.

I step forward, grab his water bottle, and hand it to him in silence.

“Thanks,” he mutters, swallowing deep before taking another drink.

“I’ve never seen you use this before,” I say, teasing lightly as I nudge the swaying bag, eyes locked on him—sweaty, sexy,mine.

He sets the bottle down and grabs a towel, dragging it across his face. “Yeah, well.” His jaw ticks, his voice clipped. “Needed to hit something.”

It dawns on me—the blaring music, the ferocity in every swing. He’s not just working out. He’s angry.

This is new.

“Why?” I tilt my head, though I already know. The reason I came rushing here is probably the same reason he’s seething.

Alex.

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

“You saw it?”

“Yeah, well—Andrew did. Sent it to me, and the next thing I know I’m scrolling through all this shit about you and him and…”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Having a past?” He sighs, bitter and tired. Resigned. “We all have one.”

I reach for him. He doesn’t stop me. My arms snake around his body, pulling me flush against him. He smells like clean laundry, something woodsy and fresh sweat. I rest my head against his chest, his heart still hammering but slowing with each breath he takes of me.

We both needed this. Needed each other. To anchor ourselves in the chaos.

“Are you here to terminate our agreement?”

What?

I step back, searching his face. Hurt flickers there, sharp and fleeting.