Page 238 of Rush
Then he stills.
“I can’t love you,” I say quietly. “I’m not allowed.”
His body locks. The air shifts—tight, brittle.
Voice low, coaxing. “Why?”
He rolls off me but keeps one leg draped over mine. The weight of it is solid, comforting. His hand finds my hair, stroking the tendrils that escape my messy bun.
The room feels thick. My limbs heavy with wine. My chest, heavier still.
And drunk on it all—on him, on this—I finally confess it.
“Because you’re perfect…and I’m broken. And I don’t want to ruin you. Because hurt people, hurt people and I’m hurting so much,” I say barely a whisper, as the consequences of the nights excess starts to pull me in deeper.
“Elena,” he murmurs, still stroking my hair, encouraging me to continue.
But sleep comes for me before I can.
I wake to the sound of the headboard slamming.
Rhythmic.
Aggressive.
Then Riley’s muffled voice—Oh my God, yes, right there?—
Broderick’s hand clamps over my ears. “Merry Christmas to us.”
“Go Riley, go!” I applaud weakly, still half-asleep. “Merry Christmas!”
“You two have the weirdest dynamic.” He laughs, shifting beside me, his leg still tangled with mine.
“Don’t hate us ‘cause you ain’t us,” I mumble, grinning into the pillow.
Oh Luca, I’m gonna...
“I should’ve gotten you noise-cancelling headphones for Christmas.”
“And a gag—because clearly I caused that to happen with the shit I said last night.”
“There’s an idea.” He winks, something wicked in it.
Then he tickles me until I can’t breathe.
When I finally catch my breath, he watches me for a moment, eyes soft. Searching.
“Do you remember much from last night?”
“Hmm.” I pause, pretending to think. The truth is—I do. But I can’t admit it.
I told him I loved his heart. Because I was too afraid to admit the real truth.
He sighs. “One day, I hope you can trust me enough to tell me why you think you don’t deserve love.”
“One day. But not today—today is Christmas.”
We lie there in silence, watching the snow fall outside, before rolling out of bed. He pulls on his pants and shirt.
