Page 32 of Twisted Trails
I look back at him, jaw tight. “Do you remember what happened with Dane?”
“Course I do. His little sister had that crash, and they both dropped out.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. You remember what she looked like?”
Dad’s brow furrows. I can practicallyseehim flipping through old race footage in his head, and then he stills, and his eyes snap to mine. “Wait.”
I don’t have to say anything. Just meet his gaze and give a slow, confirming nod.
He leans back like I hit him, dragging a hand down his face. “No way.”
“Yeah.”
“Fucking hell.” He shakes his head. “Why haven’t I seen this?”
“I know, right?” I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “I’m thinking the same thing. How the hell didn’t I notice? The way she rides or how Dane acted around her.” The ache pushes higher in my throat. “I had her right there in front of me, touched her,heldher, and I still didn’t see it.”
Because it was easier to believe she was just some oddball kid, riding like a demon, than Alaina Crews back from the dead.
He’s still reeling, eyes wide. “I… that’s insane.”
“Yeah.”
“Crazy…” he says again, then, with a crooked smile, “… but damn, she’s bloody good.”
“What?”
“Sheoutridesyou and the others. You guys crush the women’s times by at least a minute, not seconds, and she’s at the front ofyourpack? That makes her the best female downhill racer in history.”
Shite, he’s right.
And he’s not done. “She’d tear the women’s category apart. It’d be a bloodbath.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing for you guys, and I love it.”
I clench my jaw. “Dad, that’s not the fucking point.”
“No?” He cocks his head. “Then why is she racing the men’s elite?”
“I…” I pause. “I don’t know.”
“Youdon’t know?You found out something like that and didn’t askwhy?”
And there it is, the thing that’s been clawing at my ribs since we left France.
I didn’t ask.
I didn’t stay to find out, even though Luc asked me to.
I ran away from her and the truth because the second I saw her lying in that bed, bruised and small and real, I didn’t want to be mad anymore, and I hated that I didn’t know how to forgive her either. So I left.
Because I don’t knowhowto ask why when I’m still stuck onhow could you?
“I mean,” I mutter. “Ididask why she lied to me, and she didn’t have a real answer.”
Dad is still crouched beside the open door, arms braced on his knees. “But she didn’t lie toyou, did she? She lied toeverybody.”
I snap my head around, frustration bubbling back to the surface. “Why is everybody saying that like it makes it better?”
“Because it does, depending on her reasoning. If you had something that big to reveal, would you tellanyone? That doesn’t mean you’re targeting people or that you had ill intent.”
