Page 96 of Broken Breath
The frame stutters, the camera cutting just before the drop. The blue and white of her jersey flashes past the trees,and then she flies like she had fucking wings and trusted the air to catch her, the way she always did.
Then comes the landing, and her bike just fuckingbreaksbeneath her. It doesn’t skid out or twist wrong. Itsnaps.Just folds under her, abruptly giving up and sending her flying again, through the air she just trusted, before she hits the tree trunk with her left side at full speed.
I flinch, just like I did the last twenty or so times I watched this.
It hurts the same every damn time.
If I didn’t love this sport so much, I’d send this video to Rachel and Kevin as a warning. As a way for them to understand the risks, maybe then they’d reconsider before diving headfirst into this career.
Not that I have any new ideas or sponsors to offer them. I still have nothing in hand, which is why I’m torturing myself with this video. It’s easier to spiral into the complex feelings that Alaina Crews stirs in me than to confront the uncertainty of my future and theirs.
The camera cuts to an overhead view of the track, and when it switches back, Alaina is already surrounded by medics, lying on the ground, her body jerking. Her gloved hands claw at her throat like she can’t breathe, and blood blooms under her jersey, blotting out the white like ink in water.
Then the feed cuts to the crowd’s reactions. The girls in the hot seat are wide-eyed and frozen, hands over their mouths as they stare up at the monitors.
Except Isla Raine, that is, whose expression is blank.
And then the shot changes one last time, to the helicopter rising above the trees, lifting Alaina’s broken body away.
I remember watching it from the top of the track with Dane. The second air betrayed her, she hit that tree, and hewas on his bike, taking the maintenance trail down the mountain. He didn’t look back, wait for me, or give me time to catch up to figure out what the hell had just happened.
I guess I’d been frozen too.
By the time I made it to the bottom, he was long gone. I called him over and over again after that, but he didn’t answer. After the race, I went to the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me in.
Wasn’t family, my ass.
I had every right to be there. I’d been part of them, racing with Dane, laughing with Alaina, practically living out of each other’s gear bags for four seasons straight. But there wasn’t a shared last name on my ID, and Dane still wasn’t picking up his fucking phone to vouch for me.
So I was left outside, with no updates or explanations, only to pick up information from whispers and rumors like everyone else.
And then they were gone.
I told myself it wasn’t my place, that they needed space, and if Dane or Alaina wanted to talk, they’d reach out. Now I know better, now I know whatreallyhappened, and I can’t stop thinking about it. All of it.
But mostly, my thoughts just drift back to her.
I hit replay again, this time paying more attention to the moments before the crash.
I recognize this girl.
She was scrappy and hilarious, always buzzing with energy and trying to keep up, always trying to make herselfseen.She had that huge laugh, those impossible ideas, and that weird little stubborn streak that made her throw herself down trails that scared even me.
But this new version of her?She’s something else.
She didn’t just grow up, she grew sharp. Time didn’t smooth her out, but carved her into something harder, likeevery scar she picked up made her meaner, smarter, and more impossible to break.
She still throws comebacks like knives, still has that dry, ruthless humor that hits you five minutes too late. Except they don’t come from a place of joy anymore.
Every quip hides a landmine.
I watch the crash once more, every horrifying detail, and again, I flinch.
Despite what happened and all the time that has passed, talking to her still feelseasy.Easier than it should.
It’s like when she was seventeen and always paying close attention to me, like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. Back then, I thought it was just her crushing, but maybe I was wrong about that too. Maybe that’s just who she was. Who she still is. Either way, it feels like she wants to hear what I have to say.
And I haven’t had a lot of that lately.
