Page 169 of Broken Breath
Mason Payne.
Luc Delacroix.
Allen Crews.
My stomach twists tighter, and not because I’m worried about the times. I don’t give a damn who beats Raine today. Hell, I hopesomeonedoes. It’s that crashes here aren’t just likely, they’re brutal. Career-ending if you’re unlucky enough, and even though Payne is a son of a bitch and Delacroix is an arrogant French asshole, I don’t wish that on anyone.
I especially don’t wish it onher.
Shifting in my seat, I glance down at the wildflower tucked between my fingers. I picked it earlier, right after I racked my bike.
A single blue cornflower, growing where nothing else had the nerve. It was surrounded by trampled footprints, sitting there in the middle of the mud like it didn’t give a damn about the storm.
It reminded me ofher—resilient, unexpected, and beautiful in the most unforgiving places. I twirl it slowly, the petals damp and trembling in the wind.
Just get down safe, baby girl.
Please.
God, I fucked this up.
Kissing her was a fucking reflex, but I panicked. I didn’t think. I just reacted. She was standing there, soaked through, shirt plastered to her skin,andJesus,I’ve never seen anything so fucking perfect in my life.
When Delacroix stepped in, almost getting a glimpse of those beautiful tits, my brain short-circuited like it seems to do now around her.Fight, flight, or fuck it.
The second I got close enough to feel her breath, I remembered the first kiss. That ache, that pull. She’s addictive, and when she’s near, all logicevaporates. My thoughts turn to static, and the only thing I can think about isherandhow she smells like rain and danger, fits in my arms like gravity, and how kissing her once already ruined me for anything else.
And now she thinks I kissed her just to cover for her, and it didn’t mean anything, thatshedoesn’t mean anything.
She couldn’t be more wrong.
All I want is her.God,I want her, but I can’t have her. Not with Dane in the picture and everything I’ve already messed up. Not when every choice I make just pulls us deeper into the wreckage.
I don’t know how the hell to fix that without breaking her trust even more.
Or breaking what’s left of myself.
The rain intensifies, sending the remaining spectators scurrying for cover. Only a few die-hard fans remain, clad in rain ponchos, their cheers muffled by the storm. Raine doesn’t even bother to come sit with us in the hot seat, and when the rider next to me sees that, he mutters a curse and heads for shelter.
Yeah.Fuck this.
I stand, too, stretching my stiff legs, and glance toward where some fans are huddled by the gondola station in search of Dane, but instead, I spot Alaina rolling her bike toward the lift.
What the hell?I glance at the track and see that Payne just dropped in. With Luc going before her, she’s still got a buffer, but the gondola ride takes at least fifteen minutes, and that window is closing fast. It’s going to be tight.
Impulsively, I make my way to the station, pushing my umbrella at the next best person. Alaina hangs her bike on the side of the cabin and steps in, and I slip in behind her just as the doors close with a soft thud.
The gondola is small, designed for maybe six people,but it’s just the two of us. She turns, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Finn, what…”
“We need to talk.”
Shit.That came out way too harsh.
Her brows shoot up, arms crossing over her chest in that signature Crews stance, the one that used to mean she was about to mouth off to their team manager or flip off Dane. “Oh,nowyou want to talk?”
I wanted to talk with her yesterday, but before I could persuade her, Delacroix almost made me punch someone for the first time in my life, and by the time the asshole finally backed off, she was gone.
“You’re late for the race.”
