32. Midnight Rain
Midnight Rain
The drive back from our not-date is nothing short of torture.
An hour trapped in a cage with nowhere to run, the quiet hum of the radio mocking our attempts to fill the silence.
Nothing, though, could drown out the screaming inside my head, the relentless storm of guilt and confusion raging through me.
I curse myself, bitterly aware that I’d dragged him into my mess. Of course, we’d catch feelings—hell, he had them all along, that’s what made this agreement easy. And me? I’d been too consumed at fulfilling my own selfish desires.
Now, I’m hiding out at Ocean Studios, burying myself beneath the facade of artistic inspiration for my next album. The truth is far less glamorous: I’m avoiding Riley’s piercing interrogation about our evening, avoiding Broderick’s earnest gaze, and avoiding, above all, my reflection.
My fingers sink heavily onto the cool ivory of the piano, melancholic chords spilling forth, mirroring the dread pooling deep within me. How could I have been so stupid? So reckless? The guilt is acid, slowly corroding my heart.
My phone buzzes, vibrating against the piano’s polished surface.
I groan softly, already knowing who it is before I glance down.
Broderick
El, can we talk?
My stomach twists painfully. It’s against the rules. My finger hovers, hesitating, before I delete my half-hearted joke.
The agreement hasn’t mattered in a long time. Maybe it never did. Maybe I used it as an excuse to keep him at arm’s length. But Broderick, being who he is, slowly but surely burrowed himself into my heart—right beside the memory of Alex.
Elena
Okay.
Broderick
Where are you?
With trembling fingers, I type out the studio’s details. My chest tightens in anticipation, and I busy myself frantically gathering discarded coffee cups and pizza boxes, desperate to make the room—and myself—appear less pathetic.
Right on cue, the unmistakable timbre of Broderick’s voice fills the hallway outside, mingling with Luca’s.
“Riley said she hasn’t been home in a few days?” Broderick’s question is laced with concern.
He must have gone to my apartment. Shit. Riley will know now. Damn it.
“Yeah, she’s been sleeping here,” Luca casually replies.
Traitor.
Heart hammering, I dive toward the mixing console, slipping on headphones and twisting dials, desperately trying to appear absorbed in my work. My pulse pounds against my ribs, threatening to burst free.
“Elena, Broderick’s here to see you,” Luca announces.
I pretend not to hear, concentrating fiercely on steadying my breathing, swallowing hard against the tears that sting the corners of my eyes. I twist another dial, hearing nothing but my own anxious breaths echoing in my ears.
But then, I sense him—his presence like gravity, drawing me in, anchoring me to earth when all I want is to float away into oblivion.
“We’re good here, Luc. Thanks.” Broderick’s voice is a soft dismissal.
His warm hand gently touches my shoulder, sparking electricity down my spine. “El,” he murmurs tenderly.
“Hmm?” I look up, feigning surprise through damp eyelashes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Broderick chuckles softly, the sound wrapping around my heart. “Don’t quit your day job. Acting definitely isn’t your forte.”
I manage a weak smile. “Damn, there goes that idea.”
His eyes drift around the studio before settling back on me, intense yet soft. “So, this is where the magic happens?”
“Sometimes,” I whisper the confession painfully honest, standing up, I perch against the table.
A silence stretches between us, thick with unsaid words. I ache to close the gap, to melt into him, but the fear of rejection paralyzes me. A small, involuntary whimper escapes my lips, my emotions running wild.
Thanks, Aunt Flo.
A tear slips free, tracing a hot path down my cheek. I quickly swipe it away, embarrassed.
“Why are you crying?” His voice cracks with gentle urgency, and his hand finds the small of my back.
His touch shatters the dam holding my emotions hostage. I crumple against him, shoulders shaking as he gathers me into his arms, enveloping me like a shield, protecting me from everything—including my own foolish heart.
“Baby, please don’t cry,” he whispers softly into my hair, his warmth seeping into my soul, comforting and familiar.
Eventually, my sobs ebb, leaving only quiet sniffles behind. “I’m sorry,” I mumble into his chest. “Your shirt—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupts gently, brushing a thumb tenderly across my damp cheek. His lips quirk up playfully. “Though, I do prefer you wet in other ways.”
A watery laugh escapes me despite myself. I glance up at him, heart aching with the raw vulnerability of this moment.
“You wanted to talk,” I remind him quietly, my voice still thick with emotion.
He nods, eyes serious as he gestures to the worn leather couch at the back of the room. “Let’s sit.”
I follow obediently, tension coiling in my stomach as we each take a seat at opposite ends, a vast ocean of uncertainty between us.
“Come here,” he murmurs gently but firmly, tugging me toward him, erasing the distance.
With a shuddering breath, I allow myself to fall into him, into the warmth and certainty of his embrace.
“Talk to me, why are you crying?” Broderick asks finally.
I sigh. “I feel guilty about ruining your birthday, I feel like I fucked this all up. We had rules and now they’re all ruined, and I’m so fucking sorry for dragging you into my mess and I’m selfish and stupid and I hate myself.” The words tumble out. “And…I’m on my period.”
“Ah, well, are you okay? Do you have cramps, need me to order some snacks here for you?”
I pout at him, bottom lip whimpering.
He’s too good for me.
“I’m okay, I’ll be okay…let’s just rip the Band-Aid. I know why you’re here, out with it.”
“Alright, I wanted to talk to you after what happened, it got awkward and it didn’t feel right leaving things like that—we’d promised to remain friends so it’s important we talk this out.”
I almost break out crying, even though I hurt him, he’s still reaching out, trying—when I’m not worth the effort.
“Obviously our arrangement has progressed into new territory. You know I have feelings for you, El, if anything they’re more than just feelings now.
As the months have gone on, this…it’s more than just sex for me, baby.
I’m asking, begging for more. More of you, more of your heart.
A chance at a proper relationship,” he confesses.
“Broderick.”
“Can you really say that this whole thing between us is purely physical? That you feel nothing else?”
“I can’t lie to you. It’s complicated, I care so much about you. You mean so much to me. But I can’t give you what you truly want.”
“And what’s that El?”
“Marriage, kids. You said it yourself, you’re thirty-three, surely you’ll want those things sooner, rather than later.”
He nods. “I do. But not right now. Eventually.” His voice is strained, his green eyes peering into mine, pleading with me to reconsider.
“Yes, but that’s the problem, before coming here, my world was this small,” I pinch my fingers together, “you want marriage, you want kids. I don’t even know what I want.
I’m still figuring it all out. I don’t want to be caged-in just when my life is starting.
I don’t even know if I want those things. ”
“But, I don’t want those things with anyone, I want them with you.” He searches my eyes. “I’m not asking for it now, I’m asking for a chance to explore what we could become.”
“And what? After a year, after two years you realize I’m not what you want, and I’ve wasted your time? You’ll resent me, then we’ll fight and break up and it ends bitterly and I lose you. Forever? I can’t Broderick. I need you in my life.”
“As what? A friend you like to fuck?” he retorts hurt flashing across his face.
My own words I’d spoken to Alex echo painfully. I don’t want to be someone you just fuck. The bitter irony stings.
“If that’s what it takes to keep you, yes,” I confess pathetically.
The silence settles between us as I watch the thoughts swirl behind his eyes.
“And if I said I didn’t want to do that anymore?
“I’d hope not, because the sex is phenomenal, I fear I may be ruined forever,” I say, trying for a joke.
“That was the plan.” He chuckles darkly.
He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his stubble, it looks a little longer now.
“The problem is, baby, when I look at you…I see the face of our children, the face I want to see before I go to sleep, the first thing I want to see when I wake. The face I want to come home to when I’ve been all over the world. The one I want to grow old with.”
“Broderick,” I breathe, tears pouring freely from my eyes.
His confession rips all the air from my lungs, caressing something deep inside me. His pure devotion is better than what I deserve. We stand at the edge of a cliff and I’m not sure if I can handle the outcome of the fall.
I’m scared.
All the fears are still there, amplified now because he’s all but raised the stakes, and I simply cannot match what he’s willing to give me.
Broderick cups my cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears. He plants a soft kiss on my forehead, like I’m something precious.
“Elena.”
He presses his forehead into mine while I sob silently.
“So, what now?” I ask between huffs.
He leans back, letting my face go, he regards me for a moment, rubbing his jaw again. “I don’t know, I think we need some time.”
“Okay...” I say weakly.
“Apart,” he clarifies softly.
The word crashes into me, a punch straight to the heart, stealing my breath. “Brody, please. No.”
“Yes, Elena. You need time to figure things out—your music, the Grammys. Everything you’ve worked for. You need space.” His voice trembles, laced with resignation. “And truthfully, I need it too.”
“Space?” I repeat numbly.
“Yeah. Maybe some distance will help you see clearly. Maybe you’ll miss me.”
“Maybe,” I whisper miserably, lip trembling again. “But what about you? What will you do?”