Page 47 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

Philippa gives me a knowing look but doesn’t press. “Everything’s great,” she assures me, swirling the champagne in her glass. “Though I do think some of Andrew’s friends are a little…surprised by the guest list.” She flicks her eyes meaningfully toward Alex.

I don’t miss the way a few of Andrew’s friends are casting sideways glances, murmuring amongst themselves, probably wondering why a celebrity is suddenly in their midst.

And Broderick? Broderick still hasn’t looked away.

I take a slow breath. I told myself I was going to focus on Alex. I chose this. So I press closer to Alex, burying the discomfort, and pretend I haven’t seen the slight tick in Broderick’s jaw—the one that makes my insides knot.

There’s only so much I can take before going full feral on those perfectly toned, over-perfumed bitches. Their fawning has long since crossed into open flirting.

So I leave Alex with his fan club, flashing a tight smile that probably looks more like a snarl, and slip inside under the guise of checking on things.

Really, I just need air.

I move through the house on autopilot, heels clicking sharply against the marble, offering empty nods and polite smiles until I reach the front porch.

Finally, quiet.

The door clicks shut behind me. I press my palms to the railing, breathe. And then I feel him before I see him.

Broderick.

“Hey, co-host,” Broderick calls out, smooth and teasing. Full of humor.

No. I do not need this.

I don’t even glance back. I just turn on my heel and storm down the stairs to the driveway, needing air, needing space, needing… not them .

The sun hits my skin. I inhale deep, trying to exhale the frustration boiling beneath my ribs.

But then I hear them.

Footsteps. Two sets.

I don’t have to turn to know.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Elena,” Alex calls, his voice tight.

“Elena,” Broderick echoes, just as firm, just more concerned.

I spin, heat flooding my chest. “You have got to be kidding me.”

They both freeze. Neither of them looks guilty.

That only pisses me off more.

“Seriously?” I snap. “What is this? Duel at dawn? Fight to the death? What’s next, a literal dick-measuring contest?”

Alex drags a hand through his hair, jaw flexing. “No one’s fighting, Elena.”

Broderick lets out a breath—sharp, skeptical.

“Oh, don’t do that,” I groan. “Don’t stand there like you’re both innocent. You were acting like goddamn cavemen .”

I turn on Broderick first, fury rolling off me. “You don’t think I notice you glaring at me like you’ve got something to say but won’t?”

Then to Alex, venom rising in my throat. “And you —standing there while Avery practically dry-humps your arm, like she was two seconds away from dropping to her knees right there.”

Broderick’s eyes snap to mine. For a second, something raw cracks through—frustration, yes, but also something else. Something deeper. Something I don’t want to name.

Alex doesn’t move. Arms crossed. Lips pressed tight. Not backing down. “Elena, you don’t get it,” he says, his voice low. “This isn’t, she wasn’t?—”

SPLASH.

I shriek, freezing as icy water drenches all three of us.

Alex curses loudly. Broderick lets out a sharp, shocked inhale. He looks like he’s about to throw fists.

I turn slowly, dripping wet, only to find Riley standing ten feet away, grinning like an absolute devil.

With a garden hose.

“I had to do it,” she says, shrugging innocently, adjusting the hose like she’s holding a firearm. “You guys were getting a little too heated.”

Alex drags a hand over his soaked hair, glaring. “Are you insane?”

Broderick just stands there, rubbing his eyes, completely drenched and visibly unimpressed.

I wipe water from my face, stunned.

Riley grins wider. “That was getting painful to watch. You should be thanking me.”

I sputter. “You hosed us down?!”

She doesn’t even flinch.

“Well, I thought about dumping a bucket over your heads, but this was more efficient.”

Alex lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You are so lucky you’re her best friend.”

Broderick exhales hard, muttering something under his breath as he runs a hand through his now-wet hair.

Riley tilts her head. “Oh, trust me. You guys needed that. Plus, you’re welcome for the free wet T-shirt contest. Very entertaining.”

Alex looks like he’s actively debating his life choices. Broderick looks like he wants to fire her into the sun.

And me?

I burst out giggling.

Because honestly? This is exactly what they deserve.

The pool party winds down, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the private beach. Most of the guests have either gone to their rooms to rest before the evening or are drunkenly wandering the estate, basking in the lingering afterglow of a day spent under the sun.

Alex leaves earlier for a birthday dinner with his friends—something I’m invited to, but as co-host of the weekend, it doesn’t feel right to leave.

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

Really, I just want a quiet moment with my thoughts.

I sit alone at the edge of the private beach, my toes buried in the cool sand as the waves lap rhythmically against the shore. I’ve done this so many times before at home. The air is thick with salt and warmth, the sound of the ocean soothing, but my mind is anything but quiet.

Then, there’s a soft crunch of footsteps in the sand behind me.

I don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Broderick.

He settles next to me, close enough that I feel the heat radiating from his body, even as the cool breeze from the ocean brushes my skin.

“Hey, co-host,” he murmurs, his voice low, familiar, with that hint of teasing that always makes my heart flutter in ways I can’t explain.

He silently offers the second beer in his hand, and I take it, shaking my head with a soft huff of amusement. “Are we just sticking with that now?”

He smirks, staring out at the waves. “Well, it’s easier than calling you the woman who’s slowly driving me insane.”

Driving him insane?

The almost kiss.

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips anyway, and I take a slow sip of the drink, hoping it’ll calm the nervous fluttering in my chest.

For a while, we sit there in silence—comfortable and tense all at once—listening to the waves crash against the shore.

Then, after a long moment, he breaks the stillness.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

I turn toward him, brows furrowing. “What was that about, Broderick?”

He exhales, running a hand through his damp hair, gaze fixed on the darkening ocean like it might give him the answers he’s searching for.

His jaw tenses. His voice is rough when he finally says, “You want the truth?”

My fingers tighten around my glass. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t look at me—can’t, I realize—his eyes locked on the horizon.

“I like you, Elena. And that night at your apartment…I haven’t been able to get it off my mind.”

The confession hits me like a wave, knocking the air from my lungs.

He likes me?

But he’s not done.

“And, yeah, I know you’re with him.” His voice drops lower, like it hurts to say it aloud. And when he finally turns to me, I see it—he’s jealous.

He shifts beside me. “I just need to know…are things serious?”

“I…don’t know. This is new to me.” I fidget with the beer in my hand.

“And if it wasn’t new? Could I be an option?” he asks, his eyes searching.

“Broderick, I don’t know.” I fight the lump in my throat, guilt clawing its way up.

The words hang between us, heavy, impossible to ignore, tangled in the salty air and the crashing waves.

Because I’m hurting him.

Without meaning to.

Trying to deflect, I force a laugh—light, almost teasing. It tastes wrong in my mouth.

“Broderick, you’re gorgeous, kind, mega successful. I’m sure there’s a queue of women waiting to fall at your feet.”

My breath catches, and something mean coils in my chest.

Jealousy. It flashes sharp across my ribs at the thought of him with anyone else.

Don’t.

I shove the thought down, take a sip just to have something to hold. The glass clinks against my teeth. My hand won’t stop trembling. I shouldn’t even feel this way. I have Alex. I want Alex. I don’t deserve to feel jealous, not over Broderick.

He huffs out something that resembles a laugh, but it’s hollow, thin. A sound stretched too tight.

“Yeah? Maybe.” His eyes stay fixed ahead. “But they’re not you.”

My heart stops. For a moment. I stare at him, wide-eyed. His face is soft and searching.

I clear my throat, barely keeping my voice steady. “But why? We hardly know each other.”

His shoulders lift in a shrug, slow, resigned. “I don’t know, El. Why does the sun rise? Why does the moon pull the tide?” He turns to me now. “Sometimes someone just…gets under your skin. And stays there. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve known them.”

I freeze. The words land somewhere raw.

The silence between us folds inward, heavy with everything we haven’t dared to say.

I wish the waves could drown out the symphony in my chest.

Broderick’s words linger in the air like suspended notes—warm, honest, and painfully beautiful.

I’m caught between two songs, unsure which one my heart has already begun to sing.

Broderick leans back, bracing on his hands. The distance between us feels both infinite and razor-thin.

His voice is quiet now, almost broken. “You don’t know how much I wish you met me first.”

The breath I’ve been holding rushes out in a single exhale. I stare at him, trying to keep it together.

There it is.

The thing I haven’t let myself name.

The thing that might ruin me if I let it grow.

What if I’d met Broderick first? Would we be here, stuck on this impossible merry-go-round, spinning in circles with no end?

But the darker thought, the one I can’t let myself say out loud? If I’d met Alex after Broderick…would I still be feeling this way?

Would it be Alex sitting beside me now, telling me I’d gotten under his skin? Would we have almost kissed?

Caught in a war inside my chest, I don’t know who I’m fighting anymore—him, Alex, or myself.

I force out a soft laugh to hide the panic rising inside. “But I didn’t,” I say quietly, the words heavier than I intend. “We can’t play that game.”

Broderick turns fully to face me, his green eyes dark, intense.

“And if we could?” he asks softly.

I look away, heart pounding, because I don’t have an answer. Because if I admit I’ve thought about it too—even for a second—there would be no turning back.

Silence stretches between us, thick and charged. Just like that moment that lingered between us at my apartment.

Broderick studies me for a long moment before letting out a quiet scoff.

“You know,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink, “for someone who always speaks her mind, you sure have a hard time being honest about this.”

I stiffen, glancing away. “I am being honest.”

Am I?

No. Not really.

He shakes his head, smirking, but it’s softer now—sad, even. “No, you’re not. You’re saying what makes it easier. What makes sense.”

I bristle. “Broderick?—”

“Relax,” he adds gently, cutting me off. “I’m not asking for anything. I just needed you to hear me say it.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

The silence that follows isn’t comfortable this time. It’s thick with all the things neither of us dare admit.

After a moment, I finally whisper, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Broderick laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Too late, El.”

The sound of the nickname he’d given me on his lips—like it means something more—makes my heart clench.

Before I can speak, he nudges my foot gently with his, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile.

“Besides, I’m a big boy. I’ll live.”

I giggle, relieved that at least he’s trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, you really need to lay off the steroids,” I quip back.

Broderick barks a laugh so hard, it breaks the tension with ease. The dimples returning to his face.

His grin turns playful. “That said, I fully expect you to buy me a drink tonight to make up for all this emotional trauma.”

I smile, shaking my head. “Fine. One drink.”

“Two,” he counters, smirking.

I narrow my eyes, playing along. “One and a shot.”

Broderick chuckles, and this time, it’s real, warm and deep. “Deal.”

For a moment, things feel lighter.

But deep down, I know this isn’t over.

Because no matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, his words cling to me.

And no matter how hard I try to shut it out…

I keep wondering about the what-ifs.

What if I had let him kiss me that night?

What if I had met him first?

Will it be easier after this weekend, after the wedding? When we’re no longer circling each other out of obligation?

Surely then, it’ll go away.

Won’t it?