Page 198 of Twisted Trails
The last run. The final shot.
I feel every race living in my bones, and standing at the top of Snowshoe, I know they’ve all come down to this.
The wind up here cuts through the pads like it knows it’s the end of the season as I shift on my feet and flex my hands inside my gloves, trying not to think about how close the points are. How one crash could blow it, but one clean line could win it all. Luc paces like a caged animal beside me, and Otis is buzzing so hard I can feel it through the dirt.
He turns toward us with a grin stretched across his face. “Can you imagine me getting third here? Third!”
Luc chuckles, even as his eyes flick to the starting gate. “Oh, you will,mon ami.”
Alaina is disqualified, Finn is done, and Raine is gone, which means Otis is now a top-three rider. He wouldn’t stand here otherwise, but he still deserves every bit of it.
Otis hops in place on his bike, then spins his bars with a flick. “Whatever happens, I just want you guys to know I can’t wait to be one team next year.”
Luc and I share a glance that’s loaded with quiet understanding.
“Same,” I say, and it’s not just lip service.
Luc was surrounded by fans last year but always felt alone.
Iwasalone.
Otis gets the nod from the official, rolls up to the gate, and lets loose a whoop of excitement as he drops in.
Luc pulls in a slow breath, but before he puts on his helmet, he turns to me. “You good?”
I force a smile. “Send it,Delacroix.”
He gives me an offended look. “The hell?” He grabs my chin guard and tugs me toward him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Ah,shite.
I should’ve known he wouldn’t just let the fake smile go. That’s not who he is. Whoweare.
I don’t want to tell him what’s been bugging me since yesterday, what kept me up all night, but if I don’t say anything, he’ll drop in distracted, wondering what I held back from him, and I don’t want that. We all learned the lesson of what can happen when you face the mountain like that with Finn and Alaina.
“What if I win?” The words are barely more than a whisper.
Luc grins, relief and joy shining in his eyes. “Then you win.”
“No, I mean,” I pull my goggles up so he can see my eyes. “What if I win the race and the overall? I’d be taking your shot at becoming a legend, snatching thewinning four World Cups in a rowfrom you.”
Luc shrugs. “I’m already legendary.”
I huff and shove his shoulder, and his smile turns heated.
“Maybe you will, or maybe I’ll win and take the overall from you.” He leans in a little closer. “This is sport, Mase. It’s about the better man winning. This is what we live for, and I don’t want this…” he gestures between us, “… to ever turn ugly. I want our rivalry to stay right here where it belongs. On the track.”
His hand moves to my chest, pressing right over my heart. “But off it? In the evening? You’re still the man I want climbing into my bed. You’re still the one who fucks me into forgetting how to breathe, and I’m still gonna be the one who drives you mad.”
A breath punches out of me, somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
God, this man.
He holds my eyes. “Out there, it’s you against me, but in here?” He taps my chest twice. “It’s us against the world, and nothing’s gonna change that. If you win, I’ll love it for you, but I won’t make it easy for you either, Pretty Boy.”
I smile, because how could I not? “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Luc’s grin softens, less devil-may-care and more real. His eyes shine, something unspoken breaking free. “I love you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s been waiting to say it for ages but couldn’t hold it in a second longer.
