Page 72 of Twisted Trails
His body melts into mine, and for a long, breathless minute, there’s only the sound of our hearts slowing in sync. When he finally moves and pulls out, it’s only to shift slightly, to drape himself half across me, one arm lazily curling around my waist, before his fingers start to sketch soft circles over my stomach.
I’m quiet, still catching my breath and trying to understand how I can feel so full and raw and safe all at once.
He’s the one who breaks the silence. “So, was that good enough to earn me smug bragging rights for, like,ever?”
“Please.” I try to snort, but it comes out more like a tired exhale.
He lifts his head, eyes softening as they meet mine. “You okay?”
I graze my knuckles over his cheek. “More than okay.”
“Good.” He kisses my temple. “Because I think we just broke the lavender.”
I glance beside me, and sure enough, the blooms are utterly crushed.
“That poor plant didn’t stand a chance.”
“Neither did I,” he murmurs, brushing hair back from my face.
I never thought I’d want a chance for this.Havea chance for this. For anything beyond revenge and pain, but now that I have it, I want to stay.
And I want more.
Of this.
Of him.
Oflife.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Finn
“Jesus Christ, Finn. What the hell happened to your face?”
Shit.I forgot how bad I look.
Why did I FaceTime my manager again? Could’ve just written a fucking email.
Right,I wanted to stop being a coward.
Even if it took me two days to gather the courage to make this phone call.
There’s still medical tape stretched over the bridge of my nose, but the real kicker is the bruising. Two solid black eyes, like I went ten rounds in a ring instead of taking one punch from a pissed-off best friend.
I look like a raccoon who lost a fight with gravity.
“Oh, you know,” I say, forcing a grin. “Fell off my BMX.”
He squints at me through the screen. “You sure you didn’t get punched in the face? Because that looks alotlike a punch.”
I huff a laugh. “Well, what can I say? You’re not wrong.”
He mutters something about idiots and athletes underhis breath but then cuts himself off and leans back in his chair. “Anyway, don’t stress. Remember Willy? Four or five seasons ago, he got into that bar fight before the Swiss run. We still have that nose extender somewhere, the one that keeps the goggles from pressing onto the bridge. It’ll hurt like hell anyway, but it’ll get you through the race.”
I shift my weight on the shitty hotel bed I’m sitting on. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t want to race anymore.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then he looks up, brows furrowed. “I get that it’s your last season. You wanna end it on a high note, not taped up and hurting. Okay, well, look, you’ve been with us a long time. I’m sure I can talk to the higher-ups about extending your contract for another season.”
