Page 202 of Twisted Trails
We’re fine.
Betterthan fine.
Finn and Otis rush to us, elated grins on their faces. Together, they haul me off the ground and onto their shoulders. The world spins, the noise roaring louder than any coherent thought.
But then I hearherover all of it. Alaina is screaming my name with both fists in the air. Finn and Otis run me to her, and she grabs my ankle, holding on tight with those big Bambi eyes glistening.
Behind her, my dad’s face is red and streaked with tears as he holds my bike in one hand and the broken chain in the other like they’re trophies.
The pain, the grind, the nights I didn’t think I could survive, the mornings I didn’t want to.
I blink hard.
The relief is nearly debilitating, and I sway, but Finn and Otis clap their hands over my thighs to keep me steady, and Bambi’s grip on my ankle stays firm.
I can’t fucking cry on their shoulders.
I only get to share a quick smile with Alaina before the guys carry me to the podium, the cheers and shouts still going strong. When they lower me onto it, Luc presses a kiss to the back of my neck before leaping to the second step beside me. Otis scrambles up to third, eyes wide in disbelief.
My name is everywhere, and my face is on the screen. The announcer keeps repeating the details of my win like he’s trying to make sense of it, and the universe just rewrote itself.
Mason Payne.
Winner of Snowshoe.
Winner of the overall.
The trophy is in my hands before I even realize someone gave it to me. It’s heavy. Real.
I almost fall apart right there on the top step, and I’m not sure if that is any better than crying on top of Finn and Otis.
I fucking survived.
An entire year of hell that led to this heaven.
A pop and fizz have me blinking back to my surroundings as Luc and Otis start spraying champagne. Wild grins split their faces as the bubbly rain soaks into everything and everyone nearby and turns the dirt into mud.
I should probably join in, but I step off the podium,needingto go to her.
Alaina.
I glance over my shoulder at Luc as the bone-deep need to grab him and Alaina and take this win back to the house up the mountain rides me hard. To go somewhere I can celebrate the win by making them wear nothing but the grins they’ve got on now. Maybe go another round with the helmets on. Not because it was hot, though itfuckingwas, but because I need to burn through this adrenalinefast.And if that means we don’t even make it out of our gear first?
So be it.
I barely make it two steps before someone grabs my arm. A UCI reporter smiles at me, microphone already in my face, the cameraman beside her locking the lens on me.
“Mason Payne, congratulations. That was absolutely historic. You won the raceandthe overall by only twenty-five points over Luc Delacroix, the closest overall finish in history. In fact, there was a lot of history made this season. What?—”
Luc flies in from the side, grabs me by the collar, and yanks me into a kiss so hot and hard it draws screams from the crowd, cutting off whatever she was about to say.
When he pulls back, he turns his feral grin toward the camera. “This is my man.My manwon the fucking World Cup overall, you fuckers!”
The reporter stifles a laugh as Luc flips off the camera before he walks away.
So much for ensuring we have sponsors next year.
“Luc Delacroix, ladies and gentlemen.” She turns back to me. “Care to explain what this just was?”
