Page 38 of Rush

Something about that resonates. But the thought evaporates like mist.

I close my eyes. It’s Broderick’s hand—on my knee, steady, warm.

Safe.

And I allow myself to wonder what it would be like to let go.

To fall into those lingering what ifs.

But I can’t. Because in the quietest part of me,he’sstill there.

Chapter 4

The Wire

Istare at my phone,again, rereading the headline like somehow it’ll change if I keep looking long enough.

“Elena’s Rise Struggles to Stand on Its Own.”

Two stars. Two…stars.

The screen lights up with an incoming call—Kylie.

I swipe to answer, trying to sound less wrecked than I am.

“Hey.”

“Alright, before you spiral,” she says quickly, that familiarhandling a crisistone in full effect. “I saw it. And Ineedyou to hear me when I say—it’s one article, Elena. One. Out of dozens praising you.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah, butthisone’s inThe Sentinel. People read that.”

Kylie lets out a soft sigh. “People also readRolling Stone, which just calledRise‘the most raw and promising debut of the year.’ Do you want me to read youthosereviews? Because I will.”

I smile a little, despite myself. “No, I know.”

“Miranda Cole is a known hater,” Kylie continues. “She’s not a girls’ girl—she’s made a career out of tearing women down. You’renother first target, and you won’t be her last.”

“Still...” I trace a line on my leg, sitting cross-legged on my bed, nerves crawling up my spine. “What if she’s right?”

“She’s not,” Kylie says, voice softening. “Look, I know you. I know how much you put into this album. You’ve got talent, Elena. And when you walk out on that stage in front of a packed Madison Square Garden,no one’sgoing to be thinking about Miranda’s little hit piece. They’ll be there foryou. Your voice. Your music.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me, because that’s easier than admitting I’m rattled.

“I’ll be there, “ Kylie adds. “And so will half of New York, screaming every word toSparks. Don’t let one bitter woman get in your head.”

“Okay.”

The call ends and I’m left alone again, the words still echoing.

“Sometimes, when you’re thrown into the spotlight too soon, the only thing that rises is the smoke.”

I close my eyes, leaning back against the pillows, trying to shake it off.

But with my first show looming just weeks away, all I can hear is that voice in my head, asking the question I’m most afraid of:

What if I’m not enough?

I scroll aimlessly trying to take my mind off of the review. Checking my inbox and spot a few unread emails from Jack. I’ve been slack with my replies lately, so I tap one open.