Page 102 of Twisted Trails
Tears blur my vision, but then a branch cracks, and I spin around.
Finn steps out of the trees, hands out like I’m a cornered animal. “Alaina.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I bite out.
“I heard you scream. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He looks at me like he might call bullshit. “You know‘I’m fine’isn’t a personality trait, right?” He takes a step closer, carefully, like I might break down on him. Joke’s on him—I already did. “You can tell people when you’re not okay. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
“Fine,” I snap, turning on him so fast he actually flinches. “I’m notfuckingokay.”
The words come out louder than I meant, but I don’ttake them back. I let the heat rise, let the fire come up through my chest and spill out of my mouth like it’s his problem now, becausefuck it, he’s the one who followed me out here.
“You want honesty?” I laugh, but it’s not funny. “Great. Here’s some.This is all because of you.”
His face shifts. I see it hit him like he didn’t expect that one to land so hard. Maybe he thought I’d play nice just because he showed up with his sad eyes and his goddamn hammer and tried to fix something for once.
Well, congratulations, Finn. You fixed the paint on the bus. Too bad you wreckedme.
“Are you scared?” he asks, making me even angrier.
“What did you just say?”
“You crashed again. It would be natural to be a little scared to get back to racing now.”
“I’m not scared. I can’t ride! You’re the reason I broke my fingers. You’re the reason I can’t hold on to my bike anymore. You’re the reason I won’t be able to do what I came here to do.”
“You’re right. I am.”
I blink, thrown off by him so easily giving in. “Do you think admitting it helps?”
“No,” he says quietly. “But I’m standing up for it.” He steps even closer. “I can’t change what’s happened or what I did, but I can promise you it’s not over yet. We’ll find a way, okay? I’m going to help you. I’m here foryou.”
“Fuck, Finn. I told you, I can’t handle this right now. I have to focus on how the hell I’m going to race like this. I don’t have the space in my head to figure out what you’re doing or why. I need my head in the game.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I want. We concentrate on you. I’m here for you.”
“Stop,” I plead. I can’t hear it again.
Because it hurts more than it should.
“You can hate me as much as you want.” He meets my eyes. “But don’t push me away. All I want is to help you, and it looks like you need that help.”
I scoff, wiping angrily over my goggles. “So what, you think painting the bus will make it all better?”
Finn shrugs. “I started painting it, but Jim said I had to fix the rust first before even thinking about that.”
“But why? Why are you doing this? This is our last stretch. After that, we’re in Canada, then the US. We’re not shipping the bus over. What’s the point? It’s only five more days in this thing.”
“Maybe. But it’ll be easier to get it overhauled off-season if it’s not completely trashed when you park it.”
“There won’t be a next season. You know that.”
“Maybe not,” he agrees. “But I want to make sure there’s something great for you to come back to, if you decide to.”
I look at him, and I hate how kind that sounds.
