Chapter 14
EVERLY
I wake up to a text from Rush.
Rush: Morning. You good?
I smile at my phone and type back.
Me: Yeah, you?
Rush: Yeah. Clubhouse tonight?
Me: Sure. Pick me up?
Rush: Always.
I set my phone down and stretch. The sheets smell like him and I'm not complaining.
He stayed last night. We didn't have sex but we were close, tangled together until he left around midnight.
And he texted me this morning like it's normal, like we do this all the time.
That means something.
I get up and shower, get ready for the lab.
Maya's going to have questions and I'm going to deflect most of them because I'm not ready to dissect this yet.
I just want to enjoy it.
The lab is quiet when I arrive. It's early and most people aren't in yet.
Maya's already at her station and she sees me walk in.
"Well, well, well," she says with a grin. "Look who finally showed up."
"I'm not late."
"No, but you've been MIA. Canceling on me, ignoring my texts—very suspicious behavior."
"I've been busy."
"With Rush?"
"Maybe."
She laughs. "Oh my God, you're sleeping with him."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Your face said it. How was it?"
"I'm not discussing this."
"That good, huh?"
I roll my eyes but I'm smiling. "Can we please focus on work?"
"Fine, but I want details later."
We work in comfortable silence for a while, running samples and recording data.
It's grounding being here, doing something that has nothing to do with the club or my dad or any of the drama.
Just science, just facts, just things I can control.
"So," Maya says after a while. "Are you happy?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Good. You deserve it. Rush seems intense but in a good way."
"He is intense, but yeah, in a good way."
"Your dad okay with it?"
I think about the call from a few days ago, the way my dad tried to tell me Rush was too dangerous, too broken.
"Not even a little bit."
"That's rough."
"Yeah. But it's my choice, not his."
"Good for you, standing your ground."
"Thanks."
We go back to work and I try not to think about my dad or the pressure he's putting on this.
But it's there in the back of my mind, the knowledge that he's not going to let this go.
That at some point he's going to push harder and I'm going to have to push back.
I'm finishing up around three when my phone buzzes.
It's a text from Ciara.
Ciara: Hey! Want to grab coffee? I'm free now.
I stare at the message and debate ignoring it.
But that's petty and I'm not petty.
Me: Sure. Where?
Ciara: The place on Grafton Street? 20 minutes?
Me: See you there.
I pack up my stuff and tell Maya I'm leaving. She raises an eyebrow.
"Hot date?"
"Coffee with Ciara."
"Rush's friend?"
"Yeah."
"Good luck."
"Why would I need luck?"
"Because that girl wants him, and you know it."
I almost smile. "I know."
"And you're going anyway?"
"Yeah. I'm not scared of her."
"You're braver than me."
Ciara's already there when I arrive. She's at a corner table with two coffees.
"Hey," she says with a bright smile. "I got you a latte. Hope that's okay."
"Thanks."
I sit down and take a sip. It's good.
"So," she says. "How are you doing? With everything?"
"Good."
"Yeah? Things are going well with Rush?"
"Yeah, they are."
"That's great. I'm so happy for you guys." She pauses. "I just wanted to check in—you know, make sure you're okay."
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"Oh, no reason. It's just Rush can be a lot sometimes. Intense, moody, hard to read."
"I can handle intense."
"Of course you can." She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I just mean, he's not really the relationship type. At least not from what I've seen."
"What have you seen?"
"Oh, you know, just that he keeps people at arm's length. He's been here two years and I don't think I've ever seen him get serious with anyone."
"Until now."
"Right, until now." She takes a sip of her coffee. "I'm just saying, don't be surprised if he pulls back. That's kind of his pattern."
The comment is subtle but pointed. It implies I'm temporary, that this won't last.
"Thanks for the warning," I say flatly.
"It's not a warning, just friendly advice. I care about Rush and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt."
"I appreciate your concern, but we're fine."
"I'm sure you are." She leans forward slightly. "I just know him really well, you know? We've been close for a long time. And sometimes he needs space, needs someone who understands his moods without taking it personally."
"And you think I don't understand him?"
"I didn't say that. I'm just saying it takes time to really know someone like Rush. He's complicated."
"Everyone's complicated."
"True, but Rush is...different. He's got a lot of walls and it takes a specific kind of person to get through them."
"And you think you're that person?"
Her smile tightens. "I think I'm someone who's been there for him when he needed it. Someone who doesn't push, doesn't demand things he's not ready to give."
The implication is clear: I'm pushing, I'm demanding, I don't understand him the way she does.
"That's sweet," I say with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "But I'm not worried about it."
"Of course not. I'm sure you'll figure it out." She touches my hand briefly. "Just know that if things get hard or if he starts pulling away, I'm here. For both of you."
"I'll keep that in mind."
We talk for a few more minutes about nothing important, then I make an excuse to leave.
"Thanks for the coffee," I say.
"Anytime. We should do this more often."
"Yeah, maybe."
I walk out and I'm annoyed. Not threatened, just annoyed.
Ciara's playing a game and she thinks I don't see it.
But I see it perfectly.
The concerned friend act, the subtle digs, the implication that she knows Rush better than I do.
It's all calculated, all designed to make me doubt myself.
But I'm not playing.
Rush picks me up at seven and I'm still annoyed.
He can tell immediately.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, why?"
"You look pissed."
"I'm not pissed."
"You're definitely pissed."
I get on the bike behind him. "I had coffee with Ciara."
"And?"
"And she gave me the 'Rush is complicated and I know him better than you' speech again."
He's quiet for a second. "She's just trying to be helpful."
"She's being territorial."
"Ciara's not like that."
I don't push it because I can see he genuinely believes that.
And I'm not going to spend the whole ride arguing about Ciara.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Let's just drop it."
He starts the bike and we ride to the clubhouse in silence.
When we get there, he helps me off and pulls me close.
"You sure you're good?" he asks.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"You don't sound good."
"I'm just tired of people having opinions about us."
"Who else has opinions?"
"My dad, Ciara, probably half the club."
He kisses my forehead. "Fuck them. The only opinions that matter are yours and mine."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you seem bothered."
"I'm just aware that this isn't going to be easy. People are going to push back and I need to be ready for it."
"We'll handle it together."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise."
We go inside and the clubhouse is packed. It's Friday night and everyone's here.
Rush doesn't let go of my hand, just pulls me through the crowd to the bar.
We sit down and Chloe appears with drinks.
"Well, look at you two," she says with a grin. "Still going strong."
"Yeah," Rush says.
"Good, because your dad called Pyro again, Everly."
My stomach drops. "When?"
"This afternoon. He wants to fly out next week."
"Fuck."
"Yeah. Pyro's trying to talk him out of it but you know Diesel."
Rush's hand tightens on mine. "Let him come. I'm not hiding."
"You sure about that?" Chloe asks. "Because Diesel's scary when he's protective."
"I'm sure."
We drink and talk, and I try not to think about my dad flying to Dublin to intimidate Rush.
But it's there in the back of my mind, the knowledge that this is about to get harder.
Ciara appears and she smiles when she sees us.
"Hey guys," she says warmly.
"Hey," Rush says.
"Everly, thanks again for coffee earlier. It was nice catching up."
"Yeah, anytime."
She touches Rush's arm. "You good? I haven't seen you all day."
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Great. We still on for coffee this week?"
"Maybe. I'll let you know."
"Perfect." She smiles at me. "You two look good together."
"Thanks," I say flatly.
She walks away and I watch her go, notice the way she looks back at Rush.
It's not obvious—just a quick glance, but it's there.
"What?" Rush asks.
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm observing."
"Observing what?"
"The way Ciara looks at you when she thinks no one's watching."
He turns to look at me. "Everly."
"I'm not picking a fight. I'm just stating a fact."
"She's a friend."
"I know you think that."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you have a blind spot when it comes to her and I'm not going to waste my energy trying to convince you otherwise."
He studies me for a long second. "You're really bothered by her."
"I'm not bothered. I'm just aware."
"Of what?"
"That she wants you, and she's waiting for me to fuck it up so she can swoop in."
"That's not true."
"Okay."
"Everly."
"Rush, I'm not fighting with you about this. You see her as a friend; I see her as a threat. We're not going to agree so let's just drop it."
He pulls me closer. "I'm with you."
"I know."
"Then why are you worried about Ciara?"
"I'm not worried about Ciara. I'm just paying attention. There's a difference."
We're quiet for a while, then he says, "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah, I trust you."
"Then trust that I'm not interested in Ciara or anyone else."
"I do trust that. I just don't trust her."
"Fair enough."
Later that night, we're back at my flat and we're on the couch. Rush is playing with the drawstring on my hoodie like it holds the secrets of the universe. He tugs it, lets it go, then tugs it again, over and over, the rhythm soft and thoughtless.
We’re curled up on the couch, legs tangled, a blanket draped over both of us even though it’s not really cold. His head is on my shoulder, and I can feel the weight of him, solid and real.
“You ever think about how weird hands are?” he asks suddenly.
I glance down. “Hands?”
“Yeah. Like, look at them.” He lifts mine, turns it palm up in his. “Bones, tendons, skin. They’re kind of gross.”
“Gross?” I laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
He grins. “I think deep thoughts. I'm mysterious like that.”
I shake my head, smiling as I lace our fingers together. “Your mystery is blinding.”
“Right? I’m basically a brooding novel in human form.”
We fall into a quiet silence after that. Comfortable. His thumb drags along the back of my hand in slow, lazy circles.
“You’re warm,” he mumbles, eyes closed now.
“You’re heavy.”
“You’re mean.”
“You love it.”
“Unfortunately,” he says, drawing out the word like a sigh.
I lean my head against his. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”
“We already are.”
“What, being lazy?”
“Being close.”
That makes something flutter in my chest. I look down at him, at the way his lashes fan against his cheek, the curve of his mouth, relaxed and quiet. He’s soft like this, quieter than usual, like all the edges are put away for the night.
I press a kiss to the top of his head.
He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the way his fingers tighten around mine.
We stay like that for a long time.
Just... still.