29. Linger
Linger
He’s there—standing at the end of the hallway, half-buried in shadow. Even in the dark, his jaw catches the light, clenched hard enough to crack. I already know that look. Atlanta all over again—hurt, angry, wanting.
Alex steps forward. His eyes flick between Broderick’s hands on my waist and my swollen, just-kissed lips.
“Didn’t realize the New Year came with its own floor show,” he says.
Broderick stills beneath my palms. Not tense—just alert, the way a bear goes quiet before it charges.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out higher than I mean. My heart kicks hard against the feelings I had earlier as it tangles with something else.
Guilt.
Just when I thought I was passed it, I’m dragged right back into it, splitting myself in two—caught between two opposing magnets.
“I’m here with friends,” Alex says, his eyes never leaving Broderick. “But clearly I missed the private entertainment portion of the evening.”
Broderick takes a protective step in front of me.
“Don’t do that, dude,” he says, voice low.
Alex lets out a bitter laugh. “What? Interrupt a moment? You’re good at that. Thought I’d return the favor.”
Broderick’s jaw flexes. “You had your chance. You blew it. Now you’re just circling for scraps.”
Alex’s face darkens. “You think she’s a scrap?”
“You’re twisting my words because you know it’s true,” he spits back.
I’m frozen in place, a moment ago I was in bliss and now this…why does this keep happening?
“You don’t show up for her when it matters and then act shocked when she moves on? You don’t own her, man.” Broderick scoffs.
“Right,” Alex snaps. “And you’re so noble. Just waiting in the wings, hoping I’d fuck up.”
“I didn’t have to hope,” Broderick says evenly. “You fucked up all on your own.”
My chest tightens, breath coming too fast, too sharp. They fling words like weapons, each one slicing closer.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Alex snarls, stepping forward and grabbing Broderick’s collar.
Broderick lets out a cold, humorless chuckle. He’s goading him.
Alex shoves, but Broderick doesn’t budge.
Broderick’s arm sweeps around me, guiding me behind him.
“Stop,” I plead, but neither of them hear me.
The air thickens. The music fades to a dull pulse beneath the pounding of my heart.
“I’m only going to ask you once, Alex.” Broderick’s voice drops to a dangerous calm. “Take your hand off me before I fucking break it.”
Panic surges. I don’t want to see either of them injured or worse—arrested.
I step between them, pushing at Alex’s chest. His fingers loosen the moment we touch.
I catch the flash of hurt across Broderick’s face, but I shove it aside. If I don’t stop this, someone’s going to get hurt—and I can’t stomach that.
“Please, Alex. Don’t do this.” I cup his face. The way he softens almost undoes me.
He misses me.
Memories flood in—his mouth, his promises—but I shove them down.
I drop my hands.
“Why can’t you just leave her alone,” Broderick murmurs.
“Didn’t realize you were her mouthpiece now.” Alex doesn’t miss a beat. “Tell me—do you really think if I hadn’t stepped aside, she would’ve chosen you?”
His words land like a punch. The impossible choice I’ve been wrestling with since we all collided.
Had the universe not been so cruel—had he not chosen Madison over me—would I still be his? Or would Broderick and I have inevitably found each other?
I glance at Broderick. His expression is thunderous, but his nearness steadies me.
“Broderick,” I whisper, placing my hand on his chest, trying to offer him some comfort, desperate to hold on to this. To us.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “She doesn’t need to choose. She’ll be in my bed tonight. That I guarantee.”
Oh God.
Alex’s face twists—rage and heartbreak in one lethal expression. He doesn’t even look at Broderick, his eyes firmly fixed on mine.
And in a cruel flash, I hear my own taunting voice from Atlanta echoing back at me: I had him last night. Over. And over again. The memory hits like a slap.
“You don’t even know what I’ve had to give up, you opportunistic bastard,” Alex yells. “She was mine first!”
“Are you two serious?” I step forward, my voice sharp. “You’re arguing over who gets to fuck me like I’m not standing right here?”
They freeze.
I yank my hand from Broderick.
“I’m not a prize,” I say, voice trembling but loud. “I’m not something you win for showing up at the right moment with the right line.”
Their silence burns.
“You want me to pick?” My throat tightens. “You want a winner?”
Alex’s gaze finds mine—pleading, broken. Broderick’s hand rests on my back, wordless. Waiting.
I look between them, heart thundering. “How about you two fuck each other tonight.”
The air between us is razor-thin.
I step back away from the both of them. “I can’t do this here. Not now.”
I walk away, neither of them follows.
It’s been a week since New Year’s. I should still be riding the high of that performance—the lights, the confetti, the sound of my name echoing through Times Square. Instead, all I can think about is the fight.
Broderick. Alex.
Both of them standing there, me right in the middle.
I haven’t spoken to either of them since.
After the adrenaline of that night—the music, the kiss—I’d finally started to feel steady again. Like maybe I was falling for Broderick.
And then Alex.
Of course it was Alex.
Swooping in, slicing the moment in half, like he always fucking does. Dragging every buried feeling to the surface before I even had the chance to name what I wanted.
It knocked the air right out of me. One second I was weightless, breathless—on the edge of something real. The next, I was gasping for air, searching for solid ground.
Would I ever be free of him? Would I ever stop wanting what hurts?
Curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled over my knees, I cradle a mug of something warm I don’t remember making. My fingers are cold around the ceramic.
They’re both watching me.
“So…” Riley drawls, leaning back into the sofa. “Did you and Broderick ring in the new year with a quickie?”
Philippa doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Yeah. You left rather abruptly.”
A beat later, she wrinkles her nose. “Please don’t talk about them fornicating. It’s like my brother and sister. If this baby wasn’t already making me sick, I don’t need the visuals.”
I choke on a laugh. “Can we not use the word fornicating?”
Riley grins. “Okay, then—boning. Smashing. Pounding the taco…”
“Riley!”
Philippa groans, burying her face in a throw pillow. “I swear, I’ll end this friendship.”
Riley cackles. “Please. You love me.”
Philippa swats her shoulder, and for a second, the room feels light again. I laugh too—but it’s half-hearted, hollow. They both notice.
Riley squints at me. “Wait. Did something happen? You’ve been gloomier than usual.”
I stare down at my mug like it might hold the answer. “He showed up.”
Philippa sits up straight. Riley freezes mid-sip.
“Who?” they say at the same time.
“Alex.”
Riley mutters something that sounds like motherfucker under her breath. Philippa just shakes her head in disbelief.
“He saw us,” I say quietly. “Me and Broderick. We were kissing.”
Riley’s brows shoot up. “Serves him right. Limp-dick fucker.”
Philippa winces. “Jesus, Riley.”
“What did he say?” Riley asks, ignoring her.
I hesitate. “It was awful. They were shoving each other.”
Riley snorts. “So, business as usual.”
“They were going at each other. Broderick said I’d be in his bed that night. Alex looked at me like I’d stabbed him. And all I could think about were the words I said to him in Atlanta.”
Philippa’s voice softens. “What happened in Atlanta?”
“Alex showed up after the show. We argued. He wanted to remind me that he had me first.”
Riley inhales sharply. “That fucking cunt—does he have a tracker on you or something oh shit Elena’s moving on better come in a fuck with her head a little,” she says mocking Alex’s voice.
Philippa shakes her head. “He’s so toxic, Elena. I don’t know what you see in him.”
“Pip, don’t you think I know that?” My voice cracks. “He’s having a baby with someone else, and I still can’t help how I feel. Please tell me what to do with all these feelings, where do they go?”
The words split me open. Tears come fast, hot.
“Aww, babe,” Riley murmurs, climbing behind me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
“Before Alex, my life was gray. Dull. Then he came in and shook everything up—he’s magnetic. Worldly. Addictive. I can’t explain it.”
The room goes still.
Were we destined to orbit each other—the right person, the wrong time? I couldn’t help but feel like the universe was bringing him back into my life for a reason. Never allowing me to fully forget him.
Philippa crosses her arms. “So, what did you do?”
“I walked away.”
“Good,” she says firmly. “You did the right thing.”
“Do you think you only want Alex because he was your first? Maybe you’re just holding on to the nostalgia of him?” Riley asks.
I ponder that for a moment, perhaps she’s right. I shrug. “I don’t know…”
Riley leans closer. “But what about Broderick? You said being with him was helping?”
“I don’t deserve him,” I say, too fast.
Broderick is the light. Being with him is as easy as breathing—and just like oxygen, I need him.
“Why would you say that?” Philippa asks, squeezing my hand.
“Maybe I’m following in Mom’s footsteps—loving the wrong man, destroy my life.”
Riley and Philippa both groan and roll their eyes exasperated.
“Elena, that’s dramatic.” Philippa sighs, snapping some sense into me.
Riley’s tone softens. “Or maybe you just need to learn to love what’s good for you.”
“I wish it were that simple. I’m stuck between a memory and something real. I don’t know how to let go when part of me is still holding on.”
Philippa exhales, preparing a lecture. “I know you probably don’t want my opinion, but why don’t you give Broderick a real chance? Outside whatever casual arrangement you two have going on.”
There it is. The one question I’m not sure I can truthfully answer.
“I don’t know. What if I break things and we can’t go back?”
“You won’t know until you try,” Riley says.