Page 29 of Broken Breath
Christ.That shouldn’t affect me so badly, but after a year of averted gazes and sneers, it’severything.
The other rigs around us start coming to life, too, and I glance at them briefly, but my gaze is drawn back to Crews after only a few seconds.
I have always been an introvert, the quiet one, but I had people once. Before everything, I had a life. I was in the pits, with teammates, a crew, noise, and friends. People I didn’t even think to second-guess.
Now, I ache just to have someone to share silence with.
When people start to invade our bubble, we both know the quiet is over, but neither of us wants to break it.
He nods.
I nod back.
Then I walk toward the van, and in those few steps, I try to tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. Just because he didn’t cuss me out or tell me to fuck off doesn’t mean Mini Crews is a friend or an ally.
I won’t have those again, not until my name is cleared.
Or until my name disappears for good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alaina
The sun is high over Mont-Sainte-Anne, Canada. Finn’s home base. The track is still somewhat slick with yesterday’s rain, but the rocks have dried into silver teeth, waiting to bite. It’s practice day, and we’ve been here for hours, so I already know my line for the race on Sunday.
But Dane and Finn? They’re obsessing.
I sit cross-legged at the edge of the woods, my bike resting beside me, tires dusted with the trail’s chalky earth. My gloves lie next to my helmet on my other side, abandoned on the grass.
I pull at a patch of wildflowers—purple asters, Queen Anne’s lace, cosmos, blue cornflowers, and something pink I don’t know the name of—and start threading them into a chain.
Playing with wildflowers always calms me when I have to wait for the idiots. If I weren’t braiding petals and stems, I’d be pacing, itching to ride again to prove to the boys that overthinking is their weakness.
“Al!” Dane’s voice echoes from up the hill. “You watching this? You have to tell us who’s faster.”
I look up just in time to see him and Finn take the same section, one after the other.
Dane’s line is bold. He bunny hops the still-slick root section, foot out like he’s racing motocross. Finn takes a tighter angle, using the banked turn like a slingshot. They both rip through it beautifully, but I already know my answer.
“You’re both slow,” I call out, biting down a smile.
Dane skids to a halt next to me. “Bullshit.”
I shrug, looping another flower into my makeshift crown. “I’m just saying, you’re riding like old men who don’t want to fall and break a hip.”
Dane looks legitimately offended, and I manage to hold back a snort.
God, I love fucking with them.
“She’s got jokes today,” Finn says with a laugh, coasting in with a casual grace before dropping his bike beside mine.
“I already have my line.” I smirk, threading in another flower. “You would, too, if you’d stop micromanaging every root.”
“Remind me who’s got three overall World Cup wins, Speedbump?” Dane flops down next to me, pulling off his gloves with a snap.
“Hear, hear.” Finn chuckles, pulling off his helmet at the same time Dane does.
“Touché.” I grin, just as Dane leans over and steals my nose like I’m a five-year-old. I swat at him, but he’s already dodging.
