Page 30 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

I slam the button to start up the radio, and a synth-heavy beat explodes through the speakers. It’s some god-awful techno track from one of Dane’s playlists.

“Ew.” Finn grimaces. “I thought Alaina taught you better than that.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue as Finn pulls out his phone. Apparently , it’s still connected from last time, because the display flickers and the music cuts out. “Better. What’s your favorite song?”

I only hesitate a beat before telling him, “ “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid,” The Offspring.”

He chuckles. “Figures.”

I turn my head to glare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He smirks. “Just… fits. But too bad, we’re listening to mine.”

“Pieces” by Sum 41 filters through the speakers, and it hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. I haven’t heard this song in seven years, exactly. I didn’t want to listen to it. Couldn’t. It hurt too fucking much. I meet his gaze in the mirror, just in time to see his smile fade.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, softer now.

I force a shrug. “I do.”

“You know… it was hard.”

I furrow my brow but keep my eyes on the road. “What was?”

“Losing my best friend.” His voice is rough around the edges now.

“And… well, yeah, my best friend’s little sister, who also kind of felt like my best friend too.

My family. It was just fucking lonely. On the road, during the season, even at home.

It was just me and an empty phone, and I didn’t know whether she or Dane were okay.

Or if I’d ever see either of them again. ”

I don’t look at him. I can’t.

“I wanted to be there for them, both of them. I wanted to show up and help, but Dane shut me out.” I peek up at the mirror and find his serious, sad blue eyes pinned on me. “I wasn’t the one who left. I wanted to be there. You know that, right?”

I swallow hard and look back at the road before I do something fucking stupid. Like cry. Or hope.

I clear my throat and shift my voice lower. “Well, sure. I believe you. But it’s not like you need to explain that to me. I wasn’t there.”

There are a few beats of silence before he replies. “Sure. Anyway , ” he starts with an audible sigh. “What I’m getting at is that people do stupid shit when they’re that lonely.”

That piques my interest. “What kind of stupid shit?”

Any insight into what has been going on with him all these years is welcome.

Silence stretches again, but it’s the kind that feels full of something rather than empty.

I breathe in and realize the air in the bus has changed.

The windows are slightly fogged, and the heater hums low, but it’s more than that.

The whole place smells like him now, like sweet maple syrup and that warm, earthy something that always clung to him— fresh cedar and old sweatshirts.

It’s stupid how much that grounds me. How my shoulders drop just a little, my grip on the wheel loosens, and I feel the ache in my chest pulse softer.

Like something homesick and tired just… exhales.

“Like almost marrying the wrong girl,” he mutters.

My foot slams onto the brake, and the bus jerks hard, tires squealing. Finn lurches forward with a grunt, and there’s a muffled thud from the back as Dane swears.

“What the…” Finn starts, but I’m already shouting.

“There was a rabbit!” I ease off the brake and slowly start to accelerate again. “Or… something,” I mumble. “Sorry. You were saying?”

My thoughts go haywire as my hands shake, even with me gripping the wheel this hard.

Married. He almost got married.

I breathe in hard through my nose, tell myself to get over it, and stop being a child. So what if Finn had a girl? So what if he locked it down while I was off falling apart? It doesn’t matter, it’s not like he was mine. Not then, and especially not now.

Still, unease slithers down my spine, or maybe it’s regret. I can feel Finn giving me a look, but I don’t meet his gaze to confirm, and he doesn’t press.

“I was with someone for a few years,” he admits quietly. “Thought she was it. She was smart, ambitious, and knew the sport inside and out, since she works for the UCI. Said she believed in me, or maybe just believed in what I could be.”

I chance a glance at the mirror and find his gaze fixed on the view outside the window.

“I thought I was digging my way out of that lonely hole,” he continues eventually. “Thought I had a shot at building something real with her. But it turned out, she was more into the guy I could’ve been than the guy I was.”

“What happened?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He huffs a bitter breath, more air than sound. “When it became clear I wasn’t going to be the next Dane Crews, when I wasn’t winning World Cups, she left me for someone better.” His jaw works again. “She wanted the guy with the trophy.”

My throat tightens.

God, what kind of idiot walks away from him ? From Finn, with all that quiet steadiness and warmth he doesn’t even realize he radiates, making him believe he wasn’t enough, that he had to be someone else to be worth staying for.

She had him, and she let him go.

“Sounds like a bitch,” I grit out. “Her loss.”

Finn laughs. “You think?”

“Anyone who can’t see that you’re the fucking trophy can fuck right off.”

Dead silence follows as heat blazes across my cheeks. Dane isn’t even coughing now, hopefully not because he heard my embarrassing outburst.

Would Allen have said something like that ?

Shit. I might’ve gone too far.

I clamp my mouth shut and drive. Eventually, I glance at Finn again to find him frowning at me. He searches my face then, and those stupid butterflies I’ve been pretending not to feel take off in a frenzy.

Fuck.

I clear my throat and force a smirk. “So… who’s the new guy? We can trip him during track walk. I hear falling into a rock garden hurts like a motherfucker.”

He doesn’t laugh like I hoped.

“She’s with Raine now.” The name punches the air from my lungs like I’ve been kicked. “Yeah,” Finn agrees flatly, seeing my reaction. “She likes standing next to a ‘real winner.’” For the first time, his voice takes on a bitter edge.

I glance at him again.

Is he bitter because of how things went, or is he still in love with her?

“I didn’t love her,” he states, like he could read the question off my face. “Not really. I loved the way it felt to not be alone for a while. She filled a space, but not the one who mattered. Just so we’re clear on that.”

Before I can even think of how to answer that, a loud bang explodes beneath us, followed by the bus violently jerking to the right.

“Shit!” My foot slams the brake while I try to course correct and keep us from swerving off the narrow mountain road.

“Front tire’s blown,” Finn cuts in from where he’s now standing beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Just ease it. Slow it down…”

The steering wheel bucks like it’s alive, and I fight it, but the whole damn bus feels like it wants to roll over and die in that ditch, and I’m not strong enough to stop it.

No, no, no .

Finn takes charge by grabbing the wheel, his arm pressing into mine.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “I’ve got you. We’ve got this.”

The wheel jerks again, and I gasp, but his hand stays firm, and the panic crawling through my ribs starts to slow, just a little, because Finn is here. We’re still moving, lurching toward the shoulder, but it’s less wild now.

“Almost there,” he murmurs right near my ear. “Just keep it straight. Let it roll out.”

And somehow, I do. We do.

The bus finally groans to a stop, leaning hard on one side like a wounded animal. My hands are glued to the wheel like it might take off without me, and Finn’s hand is still there too. We just breathe for a moment. The silence wraps tight around us, heavy with everything that could’ve gone wrong.

Then he moves, not away but closer. His fingers lift a strand of my short hair from where it’s stuck on my temple and gently tucks it away. Then his palm brushes over my shoulder, down to the middle of my back in a steady, soothing line, making goose bumps erupt all over my spine.

“You did good,” he says quietly. “We’re okay.”

I swallow hard and nod, even though I’m not sure I believe it.

“Thanks,” I murmur shakily.

He gives me one last look and then moves toward the back. “I’ll check on Dane.”

As soon as he disappears down the aisle, I drop my forehead to the wheel and let out a subtle, wounded sound.

God.

I almost killed us.

And what’s worse? I needed him to save me, and now he’ll look at me differently.

Fragile, helpless, a burden, just like everyone saw me after the crash. Biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, I lift my head slowly, breathing through my nose.

Fine. Let him think whatever he wants. I don’t need his pity.

When Finn reappears, his expression is tight. “Dane’s fine. He’s just grumpy, but he told me where the spare is.”

“Great,” I mutter, pulling the switch to open the door.

I spring from my seat and jump down into the grass, scrunching up my face at the pain that zings through me at the impact, only to find that it’s cold out here.

The wind is biting, and the clouds are heavy with more bad news as I crouch next to the blown tire, staring at the shredded rubber.

It’s curled like burned skin, and something inside me just folds quietly.

This is my fault.

“I’ll get the jack,” Finn announces behind me.

“I can do it,” I snap.

“I know you can.” He crouches beside me. “But you don’t have to.”

I jerk my head toward him, fury flaring up to hide the ache beneath it. “If you hadn’t come along, I would’ve had to.”

Or maybe not, because if he hadn’t come along, the bus would be lying in that ditch.

“But I did.” His blue eyes are holding me captive. “ I’m here now. ”

Those three words punch harder than anything else could have, and I go completely still because I hear what he’s not saying.

He knows.

As in, he knows.

I don’t look away from him, away from the accusation in his eyes.

The way they tell me without words, that he also knows that this weight inside me isn’t just about the tire.

That it’s about everything I’ve been carrying almost completely on my own.

The way I spent years learning to live without breath.

He knows.

He knows it’s me.

I want to scream. Or punch him. Or yank him closer and… nope, not finishing that thought.

Before I can do something dangerously un-Allen-like, a horn blares from behind, making us both jump.

We whip our heads toward the road as a familiar black van slows to a stop beside us, window already rolling down.

“Looks like you guys could use a mechanic.” Jim leans out, grinning like he’s been waiting his whole life to deliver this line.

Equal parts embarrassment, relief, and something stupidly close to disappointment flood my entire system.

Of course. Perfect timing.

I glance at the passenger side and see Mason sitting there, eyes fixed firmly ahead. Then I look back at Finn, who’s casually dusting off his pants, back to that effortless calm like he wasn’t just about to ruin me with one more soft word.

Love this for me.