Page 51 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

“Yeah,” Broderick says. “Work’s been…busy. Things are good. Momentum’s good. Profits are strong. We’re changing communities.” He sounds proud—all the right words, all in the right tone—but underneath, I hear it.

That loneliness.

I didn’t think someone like him would be lonely. It tugs at my heart. He lost his father, like I lost my mother. I can hear the sadness, I know it too well.

Andrew doesn’t let it go. “Yeah, but when the work’s done, Brody, who do you come home to?”

There’s a soft sizzle, something dropped into a pan. Eggs maybe. Bacon. Whatever it is, the smell hits a second later, warm and mouthwatering.

“Alright, man,” Andrew says. “I’ll leave you to it. You and Elena did a great job planning everything. Thanks again. You’re like the brother I wish I had.”

“You know I got you.”

Footsteps approach. I flatten against the wall, holding my breath as Andrew steps into the hallway, four water bottles cradled in his arms like precious cargo. Hangover insurance.

I wait until Andrew’s footsteps fade, the silence swelling thick and heavy again.

Circling wide, I slip down the other side of the hall. If I come in through the second entrance, maybe Broderick won’t suspect I heard anything I wasn’t meant to.

I take a steadying breath before padding into the kitchen, heart pounding relentlessly against my ribs.

I’m not much of an actress?—

“El.”

I freeze.

Look up.

And there he is.

Shirtless.

Oh, dear God.

Every muscle on him is carved and golden under the low kitchen lights, skin kissed by the sun, a dusting of chest hair catching the glow. His pecs and abs ripple. I must look like a deer caught clean in the headlights. Where Alex is all lean and polished, Broderick is bulk and rugged edges.

“Oh,” I stammer. “Sorry—I thought everyone had gone to bed.” At least I don’t have to pretend to be shocked, because at the mere sight of his perfect body, now I am.

Broderick chuckles, soft and rough. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I laugh awkwardly, placing my purse on top of the counter and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Something like that.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” I answer quickly, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere, anywhere else. “Whatcha making?”

“Grilled cheese,” he says, flipping the sandwich in the pan with a lazy flick of his wrist. “You want one?”

My stomach answers before I do, grumbling loud enough for both of us to hear.

“Please.” I huff, cheeks burning.

An easy grin spreads across his face. “Alright. Grilled cheese coming right up.”

I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him move—the way his back flexes when he reaches for a plate, the low-slung waistband of his sweatpants teasing the edge of indecency. Those dimples, burnt into my memory.

His body is perfection. I bite my lip swallowing my desire.

I shouldn’t be ogling him like this while Alex is upstairs.

“I’m sorry about earlier …” I say, the awkwardness of the situation of Broderick, Alex, and me, all entangled in my mess.

He shrugs. “We’re good. You’re with him , I’ll get over it.”

The thought of him getting over the idea of us doesn’t quite sit well. It’s selfish and fucked up of me. Am I so desperate to feel wanted that I’m greedy for it?

I sigh heavily. “I wish it wasn’t so…” I can’t find the right words.

Hard, confusing, frustrating? All of the above.

“Your fault for being so damn adorable.” He’s already assembling another sandwich, layering bread, butter, and three kinds of cheese like it’s muscle memory.

“I’m a woman, not a bunny.” I scoff. Adorable .

He chuckles, low and breathy, his eyes searing into me. I look away. Their pull is undeniable, and with me being pent up from Alex’s earlier teasing, I’m not sure I can trust myself.

I shouldn’t.

The sizzle of the sandwich he places in the pan echoes between us.

“You always look this intense making grilled cheese?” I tease, looking at him, now with his back turned. That back, fuck.

I’m trying to sound normal, trying not to drool.

Broderick shoots me a crooked smile over his shoulder. “Only when it’s for royalty.”

I snort, shoving his arm when he comes closer. He barely budges. Like trying to push a damn brick wall. But the small touch sends a jolt up my spine. He feels nice.

His forearms are corded with veins as he works the pan over the heat.

Desire tugging at something deep inside me.

He sets the sandwich down in front of me, slicing it neatly in half. “Here you go, your majesty.”

I’m about to reach for it when he steps closer, towering over me in that way he always does, tall enough to make me tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. He’s close enough to touch.

I bite my lip.

He grins, slow and deliberate.

“You know,” he says, voice low and rough with amusement, “you’re gonna give me a crick in my neck if you keep making me look down at you like this.”

Before I can fire back some smartass comment, his hands are on my waist. In one easy motion, he lifts me and sets me down on the counter.

I squeal, laughing, palms bracing against the marble for balance. “Brody!”

He steps between my knees, smirking up at me now, satisfaction written all over his face. We’re not quite at eye level, but close enough.

I lick my lips, savoring the warmth of his hands still lingering on my skin.

“Much better.” He rests his hands on either side of me, close enough that his heat seeps through the thin fabric of my dress. “Now I won’t need a chiropractor tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart is racing so hard it feels like it might knock me clean off the counter.

I’m very aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lean in, close the inches between us, taste the smile on his mouth. And make good on that almost kiss.

The sandwich sits forgotten between us, the air crackling, the space shrinking. Then he takes a step back, tutting. He’s fighting the urge, sticking to the line I drew in the sand.

I try to recover my equilibrium and grab one half of the sandwich and take a bite, still trying to catch my breath from his touch, from the space that hummed between us. The cheese stretches, gooey and hot, and I have to tear it away awkwardly with my fingers.

“Mmm,” I hum, mouth full. “God. That’s actually amazing.”

“Nothing beats grilled cheese.” He’s grinning as he takes a bite from his own.

“Thank you,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them.

His gaze lingers on my mouth, steady and warm as he watches me take a few more bites.

“You’ve got a crumb,” he says, his voice dipping low.

His eyes—dazzling green, sharp as glass, soft as moss—search mine, something unspoken threading tight between us. Then his thumb lifts, brushing the corner of my lip with a gentleness that makes my breath hitch.

Just a swipe.

Bare skin against bare skin.

But it tingles, sharp and electric, a spark that runs straight to my toes.

He doesn’t move right away. His hand hovers close, as if he’s caught between pulling back and leaning in, trapped in the same breathless space I’m drowning in.

My stomach flips violently, nothing to do with the grilled cheese cooling in my hands.

Broderick finally steps back, tearing another bite from his sandwich like he didn’t just tilt my entire world sideways.

He leans against the counter, watching me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You know,” he says, waving his sandwich vaguely at me, “this is kind of unfair.”

I barely register it until I follow the line of his gaze.

Oh, fuck .

Me.

Perched on marble in the middle of the night.

Dressed in nothing but a silk negligee, nipples pert and feet bare, eating grilled cheese, while he stands there, shirtless and impossibly gorgeous in his own right.

Heat blooms under my skin, crawling up my throat, burning at the tips of my ears.

Broderick’s still watching me like I’m something delicate and risky at the same time. Like if he looks long enough, I might disappear.

“You’re testing this friendship,” he growls, eyes dropping to where the silk clings to my skin. “You in that dress. Eating grilled cheese like a fucking tease .”

The sound reverberates through me, and I clench. I swallow a gasp.

I should laugh. I should say something flirty, something stupid. But I don’t.

I can’t.

Because all I can think about is the almost kiss.

Broderick takes a step closer, not much, just enough for his thigh to brush my knee. My breath stumbles.

His eyes flick down to my mouth.

For one suspended second, he leans in.

My lips part. I don’t move.

I can’t move.

I wonder…What if I’d met him first?

What if Alex wasn’t sleeping upstairs in my bed?

Would he kiss me now? Fuck me on this counter?

Would I let him?

My heart slams against my ribs, so loud I swear he can hear it. But then he stops. Pulls back slightly, his jaw ticking.

“You’re trouble, Elena,” he says, almost gently. “You know that?”

My chest heaves, breathless.

I could say the same about him.

He lingers, close enough that I can smell the faint trace of soap and smoke and something else I can never name but always feel, and then he smiles wide enough to break whatever that was.

The moment I almost gave in . Again.

“Elena…I’d like my phone back, please,” he murmurs.

I laugh awkwardly, his words cutting through the tension.

I nod toward my purse, sitting on the edge of the counter, trying to catch my breath.

He turns, grabs it, opens it, and takes his phone out before placing it back on the counter.

“Thank you.” He starts to walk out, then pauses in the doorway, every muscle in his back pulled tight.

Doesn’t look. Just stands there for a moment.

I wonder if he’s fighting it too.

If he’s thinking about my legs brushing his hips, my breath catching when his thumb grazed my lip.

If he wonders about all the what-ifs.

But he leaves.

And I’m still on the counter, too full of want, guilt, tasting grilled cheese and every almost that passed between us. Again.