Page 278 of Rush

Then he unties the blindfold—delicately.

Light bursts in. Gold and pale pink, soft and endless.

We’re floating. In a hot air balloon.

“You planned this?” I blink at him, stunned.

He’s smug. “Does this make you happy?”

I stare at the horizon—sky, earth, silence—and then back at him.

“So happy—I’ve never done anything like this before,” I gasp, feeling tears well in my eyes.

He smiles at me like he’s holding the whole sunrise in his chest. I lean into him, savoring the moment, watching the light burst through the horizon—soft and golden.

We’re floating.

I turn slowly, eyes adjusting to the sheer expanse of sky around us. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, bleeding color across the clouds. Below, the earth looks like a painting I couldn’t touch. Everything is still. Covered in snow.

Then I look up at him.

Broderick’s arms are still around me, keeping me safe and grounded despite being so high in the sky.

Something tilts in my chest—not a fall, exactly, but a puzzle slotting into place. An ache. Something deep and terrifying and true.

I think I love you.

The thought lands before I can block it. I almost say it. The words hover, right there. But my stomach twists.

Because in that moment I realize something—I loveAlextoo.

I curse my selfish, greedy heart. I hate myself for it.

But it’s there now. Impossible to ignore. The guilt claws at me.

I squirm out of Broderick’s arms, wanting what little distance I can manage in the basket of the balloon.

“El—is something wrong?”

“I have something for you,” I say, nervous—desperate to salvage the moment.

I reach into my bag.

He raises a brow. “For me?”

“Of course. You’re the birthday boy. Or man. Or…old man?”

He chuckles.

I pull out the small wrapped box and hand it to him.

He takes it gently, carefully peeling back the paper without tearing it. He opens the box—and for a second, he just stares.

The compass catches the light—burnished brass. The needle trembles slightly, alive in his palm. He turns it over, eyes fixed on the inscription.

You are my True North.

Silence stretches.