Chapter 11
RUSH
I sit in my flat with the lights off and the city noise filtering through the windows.
The conversation with Diesel is still replaying in my head, the moment I told him I can't stay away from Everly.
I meant it.
And that's what scares me.
I've crossed a line I can't uncross. I've admitted out loud that I want her, that I'm choosing her.
There's no going back from that.
My phone is on the table and I stare at it. Part of me wants to text Everly and take it back, tell her I made a mistake.
But I don't.
Because I didn't make a mistake. I made a choice.
And I'm tired of choosing safety over connection.
I think about Ruby and what she believes about me. She's fourteen now and she still calls me every week from New York.
She tells me about school and her friends and the life Octavia and Digger have given her.
And she looks at me like I'm her hero, even after everything.
"You saved my life," she told me last time we talked. "I wouldn't be here without you."
"I shot someone to do it."
"You were thirteen and desperate and you did what you had to do. That doesn't make you a monster, Rush. It makes you my brother."
The certainty in her voice when she said it made my chest tight.
She believes I'm good.
So do Octavia and Digger. They took her in after I went to juvie and raised her like she's their own.
Serenity and Esme back in New York, they've both seen me at my worst and they still treat me like family.
They all believe I'm capable of being more than my worst moment.
But I moved to Dublin to escape being ‘the kid who shot Octavia’. To start over where people didn't know my history, didn't look at me and see that scared thirteen-year-old with a gun.
And I've spent two years here building a new reputation, being the controlled one, the quiet one, the one who never loses his temper.
But that's just another kind of hiding.
I've been using restraint like a shield, keeping everyone at arm's length so I don't have to risk being vulnerable.
And I'm done with that.
I'm done choosing safety over connection.
My phone rings and I glance at the screen. It's Esme calling from New York.
I answer it. "Hey, Es."
"Hey, sweetheart." Her voice is warm and soft. "You okay? Serenity said you might need someone to talk to."
I lean back against the couch. "How'd she know?"
"Because we know you, Rush. And word travels fast in the club, even between chapters. Pyro mentioned to Ace that you're seeing Diesel's daughter and it's causing some waves."
"Yeah, it is."
"You want to talk about it?"
I close my eyes. "I chose her, Es. I told Diesel I can't stay away from her, and now I'm terrified I'm going to fuck it up."
"Why do you think you'll fuck it up?"
"Because that's what I do—I hurt people I care about."
Esme's quiet for a second, then she says gently, "Rush, honey, you were thirteen when you hurt Octavia. You were trying to save Ruby. That doesn't define who you are now."
"Doesn't it? I'm still that kid inside, Es. I still have the violence. I still have the fear."
"Of course you do. That's part of you. But you've changed, sweetheart. You've grown up and become someone I'm so proud of."
The words make my throat tight.
"I don't feel like I've changed," I say.
"That's because you're still looking at yourself through the eyes of that scared kid.
But, Rush, everyone else sees who you really are.
You're steady, you're reliable, you show up for people.
You call Ruby every week. You're a good brother to her.
You work hard for the club. You're kind to people even when you don't have to be. "
"That doesn't mean I won't hurt Everly."
"No, but it means you're not destined to hurt her either. You're capable of being in a relationship without destroying it."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've watched you for two years and you're not that impulsive kid anymore. You think before you act, you control your reactions, you've learned how to be present without being destructive."
I want to believe her but the doubt is still there.
"What if I lose control with her?" I ask.
"You won't."
"You can't know that."
"Yes, I can. Because losing control isn't the same as feeling things, Rush. You've been confusing the two for years. Feeling angry or scared or vulnerable doesn't mean you're going to hurt someone. It just means you're human."
The words land and I have to take a breath.
"I'm afraid," I say quietly.
"Of what? Hurting her or loving her?"
"Both."
"That's okay. Being afraid is normal. But don't let fear make your choices for you."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then it doesn't work and you deal with it. But, Rush, sweetheart, you can't live your whole life protecting people from yourself. At some point you have to trust that you're not the worst thing you've ever done."
The words break something open in my chest.
I'm not the worst thing I've ever done.
"I moved to Dublin to get away from being that kid," I say. "But I'm still hiding from it."
"I know, and I understand why. But maybe it's time to stop hiding and start living instead."
"I don't know if I know how."
"Yes, you do. You choose her, you show up, and you let yourself be vulnerable even when it's scary. That's how you live, Rush. That's how you build something real."
We're quiet for a second, then she says, "You know that everyone here loves you, right? Me and Seri, Octavia and Digger, Ruby. We all believe in you."
"I know."
"Then start believing in yourself. You're not that punk-ass kid anymore. You're Rush. You're a patched member of the Fury Vipers. You have a home, you have family. Don't let fear steal that from you."
Tears sting my eyes. "Thank you, Es."
"Anytime, sweetheart. That's what family is for. Now go to her, tell her you want her, and stop overthinking it."
"What if I mess it up?"
"Then you apologize and you do better. But you won't know unless you try."
We talk for a few more minutes, and when we hang up I feel different.
Not fixed, not healed.
Decided.
I've spent eight years choosing safety and it's gotten me nowhere.
Maybe it's time to choose risk instead.
My phone buzzes and I glance at the screen. It's Ciara.
Ciara: Hey, you good? Haven't heard from you in a bit.
I type back.
Me: Yeah, I'm good. Just dealing with some stuff.
Ciara: Anything I can help with?
Me: No, I've got it. Thanks though.
Ciara: Okay, well I'm around if you need anything. Coffee this week?
Me: Maybe. I'll let you know.
Ciara: Sounds good. Take care of yourself.
I set my phone down. Ciara's been a good friend since I moved to Dublin–always there when I need to talk, always solid, never pushing for more than friendship. I'm lucky to have her in my corner.
I grab my keys and head out. The ride to Everly's flat is cold and fast.
My mind is quiet for once—no second-guessing, no spiraling.
Just the certainty that I'm done holding back.
I text Everly when I'm outside.
Me: I'm here. Can I come up?
The three dots appear immediately.
Everly: Yeah.
I take the stairs two at a time and she opens the door before I can knock.
She's wearing pajama pants and a tank top. Her hair is down and she looks tired but beautiful.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
"I needed to see you."
"Why?"
"Because I'm done keeping distance."
She crosses her arms. "What does that mean?"
I step inside and close the door behind me. "It means I want you and I'm willing to take the risk."
"What risk?"
"All of it. Your dad hating me, fucking it up, losing control. I'm willing to risk it because I want you more than I'm afraid."
She studies me for a long second. "You're serious."
"Yeah."
"You're not going to run when it gets hard?"
"No."
"You're not going to push me away to protect me from yourself?"
"No. I'm going to trust you to make your own choices."
She steps closer. "And if I choose you?"
"Then you choose me."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that."
She reaches up and touches my face. "What changed?"
"I realized I've been choosing safety over connection and it's been making me miserable. I talked to Esme, and she reminded me that I'm not the worst thing I've ever done."
"And now?"
"Now I'm choosing you."
She stands on her toes and kisses me. It's soft at first but then it deepens.
My hands go to her hips and I pull her closer. She makes a sound against my mouth and it breaks something in me.
I back her against the wall and kiss her harder. My hands slide under her tank top and her skin is hot.
"Rush," she breathes.
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure about this?"
I pull back just enough to look at her. "Yeah, I'm sure. Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Tell me what you want."
"I want you. I want this. I want you to stop holding back."
That's all I need to hear.
I kiss her again, and this time I don't hold back. My hands are everywhere—her hair, her waist, her thighs.
She pulls at my cut and I shrug it off, let it fall to the floor.
"Bedroom," she says against my mouth.
"Yeah."
She takes my hand and leads me down the hall. Her bedroom is small but it's hers.
We stand there looking at each other, and the weight of what we're about to do settles between us.
"Last chance to change your mind," I say.
"I'm not changing my mind."
"Okay."
"Are you?"
"No."
She steps close and her hands go to my shirt. She pulls it over my head, and her eyes trace the ink on my chest and arms.
"You're staring," I say.
"You're worth staring at."
I pull her tank top off and my breath catches. She's not wearing a bra and her breasts are perfect, nipples already hard.
I reach out and cup one, test the weight of it in my palm. My thumb brushes across her nipple and she gasps.
"Sensitive," I say.
"Yeah."
"Good."
I lean down and take her nipple in my mouth, suck hard enough to make her moan.
Her hands go to my hair and she holds me there, her breathing already getting faster.
I switch to the other breast and give it the same attention, while my hand slides down her stomach to the waistband of her pajama pants.
"These need to come off," I say against her skin.
"Then take them off."
I hook my fingers in the waistband and pull them down along with her underwear. She steps out of them and stands there completely naked.
I take a second to just look at her, memorize every curve, every line.
"You're beautiful," I say.
"You're still dressed."
"Not for long."
I strip off my jeans and boxer briefs. My cock is already hard and aching.
Her eyes drop and widen slightly. "Jesus."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, just... you're big."
"We'll go slow."
"I don't want slow."
That makes me smile. "We're going slow anyway. I'm not hurting you."
I back her toward the bed and she falls onto it. I follow her down and settle between her legs.
My cock is pressed against her and I can feel how wet she already is.
"Rush," she breathes.
"I know. I've got you."
I kiss down her neck to her breasts, take my time with each one until she's squirming under me.
Then I kiss lower, across her stomach, down to where she's wet and wanting.
"What are you doing?" she asks.
"Tasting you."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
I spread her thighs wider and look at her. She's pink and glistening and perfect.
I lean down and lick her from bottom to top, taste her on my tongue.
She cries out and her hips buck.
"Fuck, you taste good," I say.
I do it again, this time focusing on her clit, circling it with my tongue.
Her hands go to my hair and she holds on, her breathing ragged.
I slide one finger inside her and she's tight, so fucking tight.
"Relax," I tell her.
"I'm trying."
I add a second finger and work her slowly, my tongue still on her clit.
She's moaning now, her hips moving against my mouth.
"Rush, I'm going to—"
"Come for me."
She does, her whole body tensing as she comes apart on my tongue.
I work her through it until she's boneless and panting.
Then I kiss my way back up her body, position myself at her entrance.
"You sure?" I ask one more time.
"Rush, if you ask me again I'm kicking you out."
I smile despite the tension in my body. "Noted."
I push in slowly, just the tip, and she's so tight I have to grit my teeth.
"Breathe," I tell her.
She does and I push in further, inch by inch, until I'm fully seated inside her.
We both go still. The feeling is overwhelming.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah. You feel perfect."
I start to move, slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in.
She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper.
"Harder," she says.
"You sure?"
"Yes, please, harder."
I give her what she wants, picking up the pace, driving into her with more force.
The sound of skin on skin fills the room; her moans, my breathing.
"Touch yourself," I tell her.
"What?"
"Your clit—touch it while I fuck you."
She reaches between us and I feel her hand moving. Her inner walls clench around me.
"Fuck, that's it," I groan.
I can feel my orgasm building, but I want her to come first.
"You close?" I ask.
"Yeah."
"Then come. Let me feel it."
She does, her pussy clamping down on my cock as she comes.
I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep as I come inside her.
The orgasm tears through me, leaves me shaking and breathless.
I collapse beside her and pull her against me. We're both sweating and breathing hard.
"Holy shit," she says.
"Yeah."
"That was..."
"Yeah."
She laughs and the sound makes my chest warm.
I kiss the top of her head and hold her close, my hand in her hair.
The weight of what I just chose settles over me—not regret, just responsibility.
I know this changes everything, know there's no going back.
And I'm okay with that.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
"That I just stepped into something real."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Good. Scary, but good."
She tilts her head to look at me. "You're not going to panic?"
"I'm already panicking."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but I'm staying anyway."
She smiles. "Good."
"Good?"
"Yeah. I'd be worried if you weren't at least a little scared."
I pull her closer. "I'm terrified."
"Of what?"
"Fucking this up, losing you, becoming someone you can't trust."
"Rush, I already trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"Stop telling me what I should do."
I almost smile. "Fair enough."
We lie there in the quiet and I let myself feel it—the stillness, the connection, the certainty that I made the right choice even if it's dangerous.
Because it is dangerous.
Loving someone always is.
But for the first time in eight years I'm willing to take that risk.
Willing to be vulnerable, willing to stay, willing to choose someone over my fear.
Everly shifts and her hand goes to my face. "Stay tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I want you here."
"Okay."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that."
She kisses me soft and slow, then she settles back against me.
And I let myself have this, let myself be present, let myself be chosen.
The choice feels dangerous.
It also feels right.
And right now, that's enough.