Page 254 of Rush

Broderick’s jaw flexes. “You had your chance. You blew it. Now you’re just circling for scraps.”

Alex’s face darkens. “You think she’s a scrap?”

“You’re twisting my words because you know it’s true,” he spits back.

I’m frozen in place, a moment ago I was in bliss and now this…why does this keep happening?

“You don’t show up for her when it matters and then act shocked when she moves on? You don’t own her, man.” Broderick scoffs.

“Right,” Alex snaps. “And you’re so noble. Just waiting in the wings, hoping I’d fuck up.”

“I didn’t have to hope,” Broderick says evenly. “You fucked up all on your own.”

My chest tightens, breath coming too fast, too sharp. They fling words like weapons, each one slicing closer.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Alex snarls, stepping forward and grabbing Broderick’s collar.

Broderick lets out a cold, humorless chuckle. He’s goading him.

Alex shoves, but Broderick doesn’t budge.

Broderick’s arm sweeps around me, guiding me behind him.

“Stop,” I plead, but neither of them hear me.

The air thickens. The music fades to a dull pulse beneath the pounding of my heart.

“I’m only going to ask you once, Alex.” Broderick’s voice drops to a dangerous calm. “Take your hand off me before I fucking break it.”

Panic surges. I don’t want to see either of them injured or worse—arrested.

I step between them, pushing at Alex’s chest. His fingers loosen the moment we touch.

I catch the flash of hurt across Broderick’s face, but I shove it aside. If I don’t stop this, someone’s going to get hurt—and I can’t stomach that.

“Please, Alex. Don’t do this.” I cup his face. The way he softens almost undoes me.

He misses me.

Memories flood in—his mouth, his promises—but I shove them down.

I drop my hands.

“Why can’t you just leave her alone,” Broderick murmurs.

“Didn’t realize you were her mouthpiece now.” Alex doesn’t miss a beat. “Tell me—do you really think if I hadn’t stepped aside, she would’ve chosen you?”

His words land like a punch. The impossible choice I’ve been wrestling with since we all collided.

Had the universe not been so cruel—had he not chosen Madison over me—would I still be his? Or would Broderick and I have inevitably found each other?

I glance at Broderick. His expression is thunderous, but his nearness steadies me.

“Broderick,” I whisper, placing my hand on his chest, trying to offer him some comfort, desperate to hold on to this.To us.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “She doesn’t need to choose. She’ll be in my bed tonight. That I guarantee.”

Oh God.