Rush (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #2)

1. Somebody Else

Somebody Else

His presence is abrupt and unexpected, like a record scratching to a halt. The silence that follows is deafening.

Then the weight crashes over me—sudden and merciless—like ice poured over flame, extinguishing the promise of forever before it can even take its first breath.

Broderick.

My eyes blink into focus, body stiff, everything feels slow and hazy from the alcohol I’d consumed trying to keep myself together tonight—barely.

Oh God.

I gape at him, willing him to transform into Alex. But no, it’s Broderick, his beautiful, perfect face and eyes sparkling in the dimly lit hallway.

My hands still rest on his shoulders.

“Whoa—hold on,” he says, easing me back onto my feet. His face laced with both confusion and excitement.

My heart hangs suspended in time.

What have I done?

“Shit,” I whisper, touching my lips, stepping back as the heat rises in my face. “Broderick, I’m…” But the words escape me.

He coughs and runs a hand through his already messy hair. “Well, that was unexpected,” he says, bewildered. I catch the moment his eyes flick down to my mouth, lingering there for half a second before he rubs his hand over his jaw.

“I’m…so sorry.” My bottom lip quivers.

The weight of tonight buckles me inward, and I slide down to the floor, unable to bear the reality of it all. It’s over. I gasp, swallowing back the sob rising in my throat, my hands fly up over my face in shame.

His hands cup my shoulders as he lowers himself beside me. “Elena? What happened?”

Any excitement he had in his voice earlier is gone.

My chest heaves. I feel sick.

The two of us sit there in my doorway with nothing but the warmth of his hands on either side of my shoulders. Reminding me that he’s still there. That he showed up.

He’s not coming. He doesn’t want me. I kissed Broderick.

More sobs pour out of me as the drunk, incoherent thoughts replay the events of the evening.

I released my album. Alex broke up with me.

I. Kissed. Broderick.

“Elena?” His question cuts through the noise in my mind. “Did something happen?”

My throat closes in around the words. Unable to speak them into existence.

If I say it, then it’s real.

“El.” His thumb brushes my shoulder gently.

I shouldn’t be dragging him into this.

Alex should be here; it should be him.

“I thought he’d come.”

Broderick leans in closer. “Who?”

I glance up at him, my heart splintering all over again when I see the concern in his eyes—so open, so real.

Unlike Alex, who was always so hard to read.

“My birthday,” I whisper, the words chaff like sandpaper in my throat. “He didn’t show.”

Broderick’s brows pull together, confused. “Alex.”

I nod.

“And then...then he—” I choke on a sob, pressing a hand to my chest, a weak attempt at trying to stop my heart from breaking all over again. “He broke up with me.”

There it is. No denying it, Alex ended it. He didn’t want me.

Maybe he never really did.

The thought rears its ugly head, and my deepest, darkest insecurity manifests.

Broderick stills, but recovers quickly as he continues to rub my back gently, the warmth a salve to my wounded heart.

“That jackass.”

I stare down at the floor, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of my shirt.

“I thought he was...I thought we were...” I swallow the lump in my throat. “And now he’s gone. Just—like that. Like I meant nothing to him.”

Maybe I am nothing.

Broderick is quiet, giving me the space to get it off my chest.

“And I hate myself,” I cry, tears running hot and fast now. “Because even now—after everything—I still want him to walk through that door and take it all back.”

Broderick exhales, slow and controlled, and I feel his hand tighten slightly on my back, like he’s trying to hold himself together for my sake.

I glance up at him, my eyes burning. “Why wasn’t I enough, Broderick? What’s so wrong with me that no one wants me?” It comes out broken. Soft and damaged.

“Hey…don’t say things like that.”

He heaves a sigh and looks away for a moment before looking back at me, steady and fierce in a way that makes my chest ache.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he says, his voice sharp with conviction. “Nothing. You hear me?”

But he doesn’t know the truth. There is something wrong with me, that’s why no one ever wants me, why my father didn’t want me, why Alex doesn’t want me.

I shake my head, looking away, but he gently catches my chin, turning me back to face him.

“You are enough. More than enough. If that asshole can’t see that—that’s his loss.”

I blink, stunned at the fire in his voice, unable to truly process what he’s said in my drunken, devastated state.

“Clearly not enough for him to stay.”

“He’s…” Broderick hesitates. “A pompous ass.”

“Yeah, but he was my pompous ass.” I shrug, defeated.

“I mean—of all the people to choose as your boyfriend.”

“Stop.”

“—could’ve at least picked someone less full of himself.”

I slap his arm. He grins, proud of himself. I break—snorting before I can stop it. My hand flies to my mouth, mortified, but it’s already out.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Sure. But I’m the asshole who made you laugh.” He feigns being hurt by the slap, which makes me crack half a smile.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I sigh, shaking my head.

His thumb brushes away a tear, soft and careful.

Broderick pauses, then tilts his head, giving me a small, crooked smile.

“Because it’s your birthday.” He states it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m almost one hundred percent sure it’s the law. Be nice to the birthday girl. It would be illegal not to.”

Despite everything, I laugh—genuine but broken wobbly and wet with tears.

He smiles wider, those dimples deepening, clearly pleased that he got two reactions out of me tonight.

“There she is.”

I shake my head, wiping at my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “What’s ridiculous is two grown-ass adults sitting in the doorway of your apartment, in the dark.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, voice hoarse as I glance around. “Ridiculous.”

Broderick leans back against the doorframe, stretching his legs out in front of him like we’re just two friends killing time—not two people sitting in the wreckage of my life.

“Come on, El,” he says softly, bumping my knee with his. “You’re gonna get cold sitting here all night.”

I shrug, more bothered than I’d admit, wiping beneath my eyes as slow tears trickle down.

“I think my legs are numb.”

He lets out a soft sigh.

“Alright,” he says, standing smoothly and holding out a hand. “Guess I’ll just have to carry you, then.”

I look up at him, my heart thudding weirdly in my chest.

“Don’t be stupid,” I whisper, but there’s no heat behind it.

His lips twitch. “Too late for that.”

Before I can argue, he’s bending down and slipping his arms under me, lifting me clean off the floor like the sad sack of potatoes that I am.

“Brody!”

“See?” he says, smirking as he carries me toward the couch. “Told you.”

“Put me down,” I squeal, wriggling in his grasp, but he just tightens his hold.

This is mortifying.

I bury my face in his shoulder, breathing him in—warm, his scent like mountain air after it rains. It makes my chest ache for reasons I don’t want to examine right now.

When he sets me down gently on the velvet green sofa, I feel empty without his warmth. But then he tugs the throw blanket off the back of the armchair beside the couch and drapes it over me, crouching down in front of me again, so we’re eye level.

“Better?”

I nod, my throat caught in silence, and the swell of emotion stirred by his sheer kindness.

He’s so sweet…too sweet.

Broderick stands, walking to the wall and flicks on the light, flooding the space once swallowed by darkness. He disappears into the kitchen—I hear cabinets creak open, the fridge door, the clink of ice.

He returns and hands me a glass of water. I take it, my fingers brushing his as I do, then he sits on the coffee table across from me, giving me space to breathe.

The touch is brief but enough to make my skin prickle, aware of him in a way I shouldn’t be.

“Drink,” he says gently. “It’ll help.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip even though my insides twist. As the glass touches my mouth, its cool, smooth surface presses against my warm lips, and now all I can think about is the kiss we just shared.

Broderick watches me for a moment with those mesmerizing green eyes, elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” he says finally.

I meet his eyes, something warm and dangerous curling in my stomach.

“Why do you always do that?”

His brow lifts. “Do what?”

“Say exactly what I need to hear.”

For a beat, his expression softens, something almost vulnerable flickering there before he chuckles softly to himself, leaning back.

“Well,” he says, grinning. “It’s part of my charm. Thought you knew that by now.”

I huff out a laugh, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

“You’re a menace,” I mumble, but there’s affection in it—and we both know it.

“Your neighborhood menace at your service.”

I take another small sip of water, the coolness soothing my throat, and as my sobs slow, something sharp and confusing pushes its way through the fog and drunken haze in my brain.

Broderick sits there, his chocolate-brown hair still disheveled from my earlier assault, dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and sneakers, watching me—holding me together with nothing but his presence.

And it hits me like a freight train.

I blink, straightening a little. The blanket slips off my shoulder. My brow furrows as the pieces click into place.

“What are you doing here?” My voice barely carries. I stare at him like he might vanish. “You said you’d miss my birthday.”

His jaw tightens—for a brief second—before that soft, shy smile breaks through. The one that makes something twist in my chest.

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah, well...” He glances down and rubs the back of his neck. That hint of sheepishness throws me—so unlike him.