Page 66 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

I Fall Apart

W hen I return to my apartment, despite Kylie’s warning, I feel lighter. For now, the label is happy, and my reputation has recovered.

Groceries in hand, I stop dead in my tracks. There, sitting on the bench outside my door, is Carole.

Her posture is perfect as always, legs crossed at the ankle, her hands folded neatly in her lap. But there’s something in the way she’s staring down at them, something small and almost fragile that catches me completely off guard.

What is she doing here?

She looks up as I approach, offering a tentative smile. “Elena.”

I freeze, standing awkwardly in front of her. “Carole. I…wasn’t expecting to see you.”

She nods, smoothing an invisible crease from her perfectly tailored coat. “I know. I wasn’t sure I should come. But I wanted to talk to you.”

A part of me stiffens—the old resentment rising, sharp and familiar—but something in her tone makes me pause.

“I won’t stay long,” she adds gently, sensing my hesitation. “But I was hoping we could talk. Just for a minute.”

Against my better judgment, I sigh and unlock the door, leading her into my apartment. Inside, she perches carefully on the edge of a stool while I busy myself with the groceries, silent, unsure of what to say.

Carole glances around the apartment, her eyes softening like she’s taking in every detail. “You’ve made a beautiful home for yourself.”

I offer a polite smile, arms wrapping tighter around myself. “Thanks. But I don’t think you came here to talk about Philippa’s decorating.”

She flinches slightly but doesn’t argue. Instead, she exhales slowly, looking up at me with a raw honesty that disarms me more than I want to admit.

“You know,” she begins softly, “when your parents divorced, I became the villain. And I’m not going to stand here and pretend I was innocent. I wasn’t.”

I swallow, arms tightening even more around myself. What is going on right now?

Her voice shakes as she continues, “But what no one knew, what no one cared to ask, was that I was pregnant.”

The air leaves the room, sudden and brutal.

“What?” I whisper, my throat scraping raw.

She nods, blinking fast, like she’s holding herself together by a thread. “I was pregnant when the media tore me apart. When everyone tore me apart. And in the stress of it all”—she breathes out—“I lost the baby.”

I stare at her, heart pounding against my ribs.

Her voice drops even softer. “The doctors said it damaged me so badly I wouldn’t be able to have children again. So, if you ever wondered whether I paid a price for what happened…I did.”

The silence stretches between us, thick, suffocating.

“I…didn’t know,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper, something painful shifting deep inside me.

“No one did,” she murmurs. “Monty knew, of course. But what would it have mattered? To everyone else, I was the homewrecker. No one cared if I was bleeding out on the floor.”

She wipes her eyes quickly, pulling herself back together.

“I’m not telling you this to make you pity me.” She squares her shoulders. “That’s the last thing I want. I wanted you to know that I understand what it’s like. To love someone and not know if loving them will destroy you.”

My breath catches, tight and aching in my chest.

“Your father was my first and only love,” she admits, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I won’t lie, I enjoyed the life he gave me at first. But there are times I’ve wondered if losing my baby was karma for the damage I caused your family.”

My throat burns, tears stinging the back of my eyes.

Carole looks at me, her expression soft, almost pleading. “I see what’s happening to you, Elena. I see what you’re caught up in, and I don’t want you to go through what I did. Like I said before, the press loves nothing more than a scandal.”

Her words slice into me, hitting a place I’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

I sink onto the stool beside her, feeling like my body might fold in half from the weight of it all.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing,” I whisper.

She gives a small, sad smile. “I didn’t either. That’s hindsight for you.”

I shake my head, raking a hand through my hair. “Everyone’s telling me to walk away from him, from Alex. But I don’t know if I can.”

“I understand, Elena. More than you know,” she says softly.

Carole reaches across the small space and gently takes my hand in hers. Her hand is warm. Grounding.

“Sometimes”—she sighs—“when you love the wrong person, you don’t see it until it’s too late.”

Her touch is steady. And for the first time, I see her . Not the woman who tore my family apart. Just a woman who loved the wrong person and carries the cost of it in her bones.

In some ways, I can relate.

“I care so much about him,” I confess, voice breaking open.

She nods, squeezing my hand.

“Everyone wants me to give him up.” The words crack free. “But does that mean sacrificing the one thing that makes me happy?”

“There’s danger in being wrapped up in someone like that,” she says gently. “You risk losing yourself altogether. And you have to ask yourself if it’s worth it.”

“I…” I hesitate, the weight of her pressing heavy on my chest. “I think he is. He wants me. He chose me.”

Her face is soft, no judgment in her eyes. She sits there and listens—really listens.

In that moment, my heart softens. Not forgiveness. But maybe a step toward understanding.

“I always thought you didn’t care,” I whisper.

She smiles sadly, squeezing my hand tighter. “I care more than you’ll ever know.”

Silence settles between us, but it’s not uncomfortable anymore. It’s something else—something almost like peace.

And as I look into her eyes, I see it—the same fear that haunts me. The fear that loving someone could be the thing that destroys you.

My phone has been buzzing nonstop—texts from my team, my family, people I haven’t spoken to in years. The sheer volume of it all is overwhelming…but exhilarating.

But before I can even think about letting it sink in, there’s a knock on my door. I open it and see him.

Broderick. With flowers .

Tulips.

He isn’t supposed to be here. I know he’s flying to Europe in the morning for a last-minute business trip that will keep him away for weeks. But still, here he is, leaning against my doorway like he owns the place, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t want to leave without saying congratulations. Here.” His voice is soft, his eyes lingering on me as he hands me the bouquet.

I grin, trying to act casual even though my heart races. “You didn’t have to come all the way here just for that.”

He steps inside with a shrug. “Maybe not. But I wanted to. Before I left, anyway.”

For a moment, we stand there, something unspoken thickening the air. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for me, but doesn’t.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” he murmurs. “Try not to take over the world without me.”

I smile, about to say something back, but before I can close the door, another voice slices through the room like a blade.

“She’ll manage just fine.”

His voice stops me in my tracks.

Alex.

He stands in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, but his eyes—those sharp eyes—cut between Broderick and me, his jaw tight enough to crack.

“Good to see you too, Alex.” Broderick’s tone is cool, like this isn’t about to explode.

Alex rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Do you always show up unannounced at my girlfriend’s apartment the night before you leave town?” he says, stepping inside.

Broderick smirks, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “Elena and I are friends. Or is that a problem for you?”

Alex’s eyes darken. “Not when that ‘friend’ constantly undresses her with his eyes, or were you hoping we’d broken up and you’d swoop in like a hero?”

Broderick’s expression hardens. “If you’re insecure, just say so,” he retorts, sharp as glass.

My heart clenches. I quickly step between them, the air thick like a storm about to break. “Guys?—”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Alex shoots back, voice quiet, lethal.

“You heard me,” Broderick bites out, squaring his shoulders.

“Are you two seriously doing this right now?” I ask, completely flabbergasted that these two grown men are acting like cavemen.

“He started it,” they both grumble at the exact same time.

“I don’t care, seriously. This is so stupid.”

From the kitchen, Riley’s voice cuts through like a fire alarm. “Do I need to hose you two idiots off again?!”

Neither of them answers, still locked in that silent battle, testosterone practically choking the air.

I throw my hands up. “Are you done measuring dicks, or should I give you some privacy?”

Still nothing.

Riley stomps over, arms crossed, fully ready to save me again. “Enough. Broderick, go. Have a safe flight, mate. See you soon. Alex,” she adds, glaring at him, “stop being a jealous prick. Come inside and see your girlfriend.”

Silence.

Broderick finally turns to me, his eyes softening. “I’ll see you soon, El.”

Then he walks out, brushing past Alex without even glancing at him.

Alex doesn’t move for a long moment, his eyes still locked on the door like he could burn a hole through it.

Finally, he turns to me, his gaze burning, voice low. “I don’t like him.”

I let out a breath, dragging a hand through my hair. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

He steps closer, the heat rolling off him like a live wire. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for him.”

I hesitate, just for a second.

And he sees it.

My lips part, but nothing comes out, fingers tightening around the bouquet Broderick handed me as Alex takes another step closer. His frustration is palpable.

There’s a wild desperation in his eyes, searching mine for something he’s terrified is there.

“Do you?” he asks again, quieter this time. “Feel something for him?”

“No.” The word scrapes out of me.

“Tulips,” Alex says, his voice low, eyes narrowing at the bouquet in my arms. “Bold choice. You know they’re a symbol of love, right?”

Suddenly, the flowers feel heavier, weighted with unspoken meaning, as I set them carefully on the counter. My hands betray me with the faintest tremble, and somewhere deep inside me, the lid of the box labeled Broderick begins to rattle.

His hand shoots through his hair again, that exasperated, gesture he does when he’s coming apart at the seams.

I watch him carefully. “What’s going on with you? You don’t normally…act like this.”

His eyes are in agony. “Can we go to your room? Just to talk—privately.”

I nod, then turn, leading him down the hall and quietly closing the door behind us.

He stays silent for a long moment, staring out the window like he can avoid it. Finally, he says, “Madison emailed me this morning.”

“What?”

He turns back to me, and all that anger from before is gone, replaced by something raw and broken.

“The baby. It’s mine .”

The air rushes out of me like I’ve been punched.

“Oh.”

“I got the DNA results in my inbox.” His voice is hollow.

“She wanted me to know. Like it was some… victory . I don’t know what to do,” Alex admits, his voice cracking in a way I’ve never heard before.

“I’m going to be a father, and I don’t want this.

” He breaks off, dragging his hands over his face.

“Not like this, not with her. Fucking bitch.”

My chest aches for him.

He looks at me then, his whole body trembling under the weight of it. “Elena, I don’t want her. I never wanted her. You know that, right?”

I feel my throat tighten painfully.

“I…” He stops again, swallowing hard. “I see him with you. And I feel like I’m already losing you. And now this…I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

His eyes are glassy, and for a moment, all the sharp edges of him—the arrogance, the recklessness—are stripped away.

It’s just Alex.

Vulnerable. Hurting.

Before I can stop myself, I move toward him, reaching out to touch his arm gently. “Hey, you’re not losing me. I’m right here.”

His hand comes up to cover mine, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers again. And this time, it’s not about Madison.

It’s about us.

I bite my lip, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. “I don’t know either.”

We stand there, suspended in that fragile space between what we are and what we might never be again.

“Hey, if we burn,” I say softly, meeting his eyes.

He gives me a small, broken smile. “We burn together.”

Our promise. Our curse.

We cling to each other as if we can hold back the tidal wave bearing down on us.

But even as I hold his hand tighter, my heart twists painfully, because somewhere deep inside, I know nothing about this will ever be simple.

Because now, I finally understand what Carole meant—sometimes loving the wrong person doesn’t just hurt.

It consumes you.