Page 296 of Rush

I pad over and open the door to find no one there. Just a small, cream-colored box on the floor, tied with a yellow satin ribbon.

No label.

I pick it up carefully.

“What is it?” Riley asks, moving closer.

I pull off the ribbon and lift the lid.

Inside is a wooden music box.

I turn the little metal crank on the side.

The melody fills the room in soft, lilting notes.

Sparks.

My song.

Riley’s breath hitches beside me. “Okay, that’s…either really sweet or super creepy.”

There’s a card tucked underneath the lid. I pull it out with shaking fingers.

You deserve love.

My stomach drops.

It has to be Broderick.

It’s a response to what I said.

Was this his way of reaching out to me? My heart skips. I miss him. So much.

But something about it feels off. The lack of a name.

“Do you think it’s from him?” Riley asks.

“I think so,” I say, sounding way more hopeful than I want to admit.

The music box stops playing.

Maybe this is the olive branch. Maybe this is the start of fixing it.

I grab my phone and head straight into the music room, shut the door, and sink to the floor, the cold hardwood seeping through the thin fabric of my leggings.

I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over his name.Broderick Schwartz.

He wanted space. I hate space. I want to scream into it. My chest clenches as I presscall.

It rings. And rings.

Voicemail.

His voice pours through the speaker—steady, clipped, like he didn’t even want to record the thing. I close my eyes, let it wash over me, then end the call before the beep.

I try again. Panic starts low in my stomach, slow and thick. I waited too long. Pushed too far.

He’s done.