Page 207 of Rush

It’s been months since I’ve seen him. How many nights I imagined what this moment would be like.

And now he’s here.

Dressed in a gray T-shirt and jeans, his hair a little longer than the last time I saw him, stubble coating his face. He lookstired. Older even. As if the time apart had been hard on him, or maybe I was just imagining things. Foolish thoughts, trying to romanticize our time apart like he was Gatsby and I was Daisy. Didn’t end well for them either.

“Can we talk?”

My skin prickles at his words. The aftershock of the show still radiates through me—and he cuts through it like water over flame.I don’t trust myself.

I muster up every confidence I have and will my legs to move, waltzing right past him with my chin high.

I don’t look back. Just shove the door to my dressing room open, hand clenching around the handle, ready to slam it shut.

But I don’t. Holding it open like the idiot I am. That sliver of curiosity getting the better of me. Would I finally get answers tonight?

His face. His voice. That look.

A thousand bricks laid down, and in one second, they come undone.

Alex’s footsteps are quiet. Hesitant at first as he walks inside slow, gaze skimming the room. It’s modest, a vanity, with all the things needed to prepare me for the stage, a lounge, mini-bar fridge, racks of clothes, my bags and another door leading to the attached bathroom.

“What are you doing here Alex?” I ask after a moment.

His hand rakes through his hair—nervous. That telltale move he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say.

Despite our time apart, despite the tired look on his face, he is still stupidly beautiful.

Still tall, still glowing like he’d been dipped in some sort of divine spotlight.

Even after all this time, he looks at me like I hung the moon.

“You were amazing tonight,” he says finally. His face searching mine for a reaction.

I drop my gaze, unwilling to offer that part of me that shows how badly he gutted me the night he tore my heart to pieces.

Only to re-emerge like a cruel reminder whenever I let Broderick too close to the place he once—still—occupies.

I turn slowly away from him, gripping the back of the chair to keep from shaking. Digging my nails into the fabric.

“You didn’t answer my question.” It takes every ounce of willpower to keep my voice steady, to prove to him and maybe even myself that he doesn’t have a hold of me like he used to.

“Elena, I miss you.”

Those words, hit me like a tidal wave—knocking the wind and resolve from my lungs.

I miss you, too.

My soul screams it. Feeling it everywhere, in my chest, the corners of my eyes stinging, my heart and mind at war with one another.

I clamp my mouth shut, jaw tight enough to ache. I risk a peek at him and I instantly regret it.

“I’m miserable without you,” he breathes, pacing now, dragging both hands through his hair. “I can’t sleep. I can’t think.”

Miserable?

He’smiserable?The word hits me like a slap. I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.

“Alexyouended things with me,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “You only have yourself to blame for your misery.”