Page 103 of Twisted Trails
How much ithurts.
“You know how this will end. They’re not going to let me race again.”
He smiles sadly. “And you know me. I’m an optimist.”
I stare at him, chest hollow and burning because he still doesn’t get it.
He’s trying to build a future for me? Now?
Hecould have beenthat future. I would’ve given him everything, my trust, my loyalty, my whole damn heart. And he threw it back, said he shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have touched me.
And now he’s changed his mind?
I don’t need someone who didn’t want me to build safety nets I never asked for.
I don’t need someone who didn’t want me to hold me up like I’m broken.
What I need is someone who doesn’t think I’m too brittle to be kissed when all I needed back then was a reason to believe I mattered to him.
But that moment is gone, and he’s too fucking late.
I grab my bike, haul myself back onto it, the silence stretching tight between us.
Pedaling, I mutter as I pass him without looking back, “I don’t need saving. I need someone who won’t flinch when I fall.”
And today, Finn Greer reminded me that person isn’t him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alaina
Knock. Knock.
“What the fuck, Finn,” I mutter under my breath before I groan into my pillow, burying my face for a second before I roll onto my back, every muscle stiff.
A quick glance toward Dane’s bunk across from mine tells me I’m still alone, and I lift my head and scan the rest of the bus.
It’s quiet, and apparently, no one else is inside.
No wonder.
I spent all of yesterday being a fucking menace, snapping at anyone who got too close, shutting down every attempt at conversation. I didn’t even go out for dinner with everybody else.
I had a call with my therapist, which helped a little, but I didn’t tell her about the problem, so after that, I just lay here, staring at the ceiling like it had answers, thinking about all the creative, stupid ways I could make my fingers work again.
Duct tape.That one kept coming back. Just tape my damn hand to the handlebar andforceit to hold. Would thatwork?Maybe.Would it kill me on the way down the mountain?Also maybe.
I didn’t sleep much. Dane stayed in Piper’s hotel room last night because I practically shoved him out the door. I told him I needed space and that they needed time together. I meant it, but being alone in this bus, left alone with my thoughts and the weight of everything I can’t fix didn’t help. If anything, it just gave the spiral more room to breathe.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This time it’s sharper. More urgent.
“I’m gonna rip his fucking head off,” I mutter, shoving the blanket off. But when I slam the heel of my hand into the door switch and it hisses open, it’s not Finn standing there.
It’s Mason.
Startled, I automatically reach up to shove my messy bed hair back. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
