Page 134 of Twisted Trails
Burying my face in his neck, my breaths are fast and shaky. “Thank you.”
I mean it with everything I have.
Even if this—us—was never meant to be.
Even if we never find our way back to who we were.
Having Finn Greer in my life?
That’s something I’ll never stop being grateful for.
Just when I think I might fall apart from the sheer weight of it all, his lips graze my temple.
“I’m not gonna flinch, baby girl.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Alaina
Toulouse is asleep on my chest, his little body rising and falling with each of my too-shallow breaths. My fingers card slowly through the scruff between his ears, more to keep myself grounded than to give him attention. He’s already melted into me like butter.
Mason has one knee crooked and the other stretched out, and my head rests on his thigh. He’s half-reclined against the back tire of the bus, eyes closed, one hand lazily stroking the side of my neck in a motion that feels like a lullaby I don’t deserve.
The air is thick with heat. There’s barely any breeze, and the bus casts a narrow strip of shade that we’re all crammed into. Somewhere nearby, a cicada screams.
To our left, Dane has Piper in his lap, her head is tucked under his chin, and she is giggling at something he just whispered in her ear.
Next to them, Jim is perched on his camping stool, wiping down a wrench with a rag that looks older than most of us. His phone is propped up against a water bottle, andthe tinny sound of the race replay drifts through the stillness.
“There he goes,” he mutters, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Look at that line. Clean as fuck.”
A second later, Mason’s name blasts out of the speaker, the commentator announcing the win like it’s a miracle. Jim whoops, slaps his thigh, and rewinds it again, playing it louder this time.
Mason won today.
He fucking won.
And it was perfect. Clean, fast, fearless. I’ve never seen him ride like that, and I couldn’t be prouder if I tried. I want to bottle that feeling for him, pour it over his skin, make him drink it in because he deserves it. He deserves everything.
But I only made fifth.
Fifth after braking too early in the rock garden and almost eating shit on the lower berm. Fifth, when it was supposed to be now or never.
Because the shot at the overall title?
It’s gone.
Poof.Just like that.
Luc is sitting at 1025. Raine is creeping behind with 975. Mason’s win bumped him to 950. And I’m sitting on a shaky fifth-place finish and 755 points.
Even to beat Raine, I’d have to win CanadaandSnowshoe. Not just podium.Win.Back-to-back gold, which would be a miracle considering how difficult racing felt today.
And Raine would need to tank the rest of the season.
Yeah, not likely.
I adjust Toulouse slightly, careful of his little paws, and close my eyes, letting the feeling of Mason’s fingers on my skin distract me from the bad feeling that’s stretching out in my chest.
