Page 175 of Twisted Trails
He grins like that’s a promise, and fuck, I guess it is.
The slope ahead is wicked, roots threading down the incline, and I can already tell it’s going to be a bastard in the wet. But right now, I don’t care. I don’t care about the mud, the rain, the fact that I’m probably going to crash at least twice this weekend.
Because I’ve got my guys beside me.All of them.
And I’m still flying on the high that was yesterday.
The jet Dad arranged for us again dropped us an hour away from Snowshoe just before noon, and Dane and I decided that the whole crew would stay with us for the week. Everyone seemed okay with that decision. Even Otis was happy to crash at our place instead of the nice hotel his team would’ve put him, Piper, and Luc in.
Once everyone had claimed a room, Piper with Dane, Otis in one, Jim in another, Mason and Luc sharing one, and Finn very stealthily dropping his duffel in mine, we all freshened up and made dinner together like we weren’t just a bunch of mountain bikers who normally live off protein and shakes. Piper made pasta and frosted cookies, while Luc burned the garlic bread and nearly set off the smoke alarm. He blamed the altitude.
Except,we’re not that high up.
After dinner, I kicked all their asses in my favorite MTB downhill console game. Mason claimed the controller was rigged. Luc swore I was cheating. So naturally, they ganged up on me, wrestled it away, and spent the next twenty minutes arguing over which one sucked less. I made myself comfortable in Finn’s lap and demolished half a dozen cookies one by one while the guys trashed each other’s avatars.
When I was done, Finn caught my hand and licked leftover frosting off my thumb like it was the most normal thing in the world to do with an audience.
Later, we passed out tangled together on the couch like we’d always belonged there. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Just waking up to sunlight and silence, and all of them still there.
It felt like family.
Like home.
“Is that it?” Luc asks, voice hushed and almostreverent, pulling me straight out of my head.
We’re deeper down the trail now, almost at the finish, and the trees have thinned just enough to reveal a jump.
Thejump.
I stop dead, boots glued to the dirt like my body is finally caught up to the moment and decided,nope, not doing this again.
Finn and Mason halt, but Luc keeps walking.
“Isthis the one?” he calls back, looking around as if he’ll see a commemorative plaque somewhere. “Come on, someone tell me where the fuck you almost died.”
My skin prickles, and Finn exhales through his nose. “Right here,” he says, eyes fixed on the trail.
Luc looks from him to me, then down the slope, brows furrowing. “Seriously?”
Finn steps off the path and crouches at the edge of the drop. His sharp gaze slowly goes distant, and it’s likehe’sreliving the moment, like it’s burned into him too.
I take a tentative step closer, and the others move with me.
And there it is.
That tree,that fucking tree.Still standing, even after trying to break me in half.
Next time, I’m bringing a chainsaw.
Mason’s silence is loud behind me, but I can feel the weight of his stare.
My gaze locks onto the jump, the exact patch of earth where the lip used to be. They’ve reshaped it since then, smoothed it out, pretending nothing ever happened.
But I remember.
“I’ve watched it,” Finn says quietly. “The footage from the broadcast. The way you flew. You looked like you belonged in the air.”
“Before the rear shock blew out and the whole thing folded like paper,” Mason adds.
