Page 29 of Rush

I answer so fast I nearly drop it.

“Brody.”

“El—listen to me,” he says firmly, that tone that makes me want to do whatever he tells me to just because it’s him.

“I’m parked around the back by the service exit.”

Tears sting my eyes—hot, angry and relieved.

“I thought I could handle it, but I can’t…it’s too soon.”

“You don’t have to handle this alone. I’ve got you.” His voice softens but stays steady, like an anchor holding me down before I drift too far.

“Where’s the service exit?”

“Ask one of the staff. They should show you. I’m right outside—you’ll see my car. I’m here.”

Letting out a shaky breath. I spot one of the receptionists and approach her.

“Can you—um—show me where the service exit is, please?”

She looks concerned, but kind. “Follow me.”

Swiping her card, she guides me down another hallway.

“Thank you,” I whisper, glancing at my phone—Broderick still on the line.

“Okay, I’m coming now.”

“Good girl,” he says gently, and something about the way he says it makes my stomach flutter. “I’ll be here. Just get to me.”

The moment I step outside, I see him dressed in a suit—leaning against his car, tense, scanning for me.

The whisper of autumn in the air hits me and his presence is a relief.

“Broderick,” I breathe, throwing myself straight into his open arms.

He catches me without hesitation, shielding me from the world as he wraps me up and keeps me close, blocking out all the madness with his body.

I breathe him in—mountains, the rain—and I instantly feel safe.He’s here.

“Baby, I’ve got you. You’re okay,” he murmurs, his hand cradling the back of my head.

Broderick holds me before helping me into the car gently.

He slides in beside me, pulling out onto the street, driving away from it all, one hand resting on my knee, a quiet reassurance.

The car is silent, the city noise fading as Broderick pulls away from the pandemonium outside Pacific.

I press my head back against the seat, shutting my eyes, focusing on breathing—in, out, in, out—until the burning in my chest eases just a little.

His hand stays on my knee, grounding me in the softest, most casual way—healwaysseems to know exactly what I need.

After a long moment, I exhale shakily and glance over at him. “Thank you.”

He looks at me sideways, giving me that gentle, crooked smile. “You already said that.”

I huff a soft laugh. “Well, I mean it.”