Page 36 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Finn

My body is absolutely wrecked.

Here in this dark hotel room, I should be exhausted enough to have passed out as soon as my aching body hit the bed after the last three days—race day, then that long-ass drive with the blown tire, pit setup, practice, and physio.

But my brain won’t shut up because it’s full of her.

Of Alaina.

My phone lights up the dark room as I hit replay, because for once, I’m not mindlessly scrolling to keep my loneliness at bay. I’m rewatching the crash.

Her crash.

The video is grainy, some ripped feed from an old broadcast uploaded to YouTube.

It’s one of those “Top 5 Gnarliest MTB Wipeouts” compilations that gets passed around for clicks.

Alaina Crews is number two, and I almost smile at that, wondering if she’d be pissed for not even being first place in this.

The frame stutters, the camera cutting just before the drop. The blue and white of her jersey flashes past the trees, and then she flies like she had fucking wings and trusted the air to catch her, the way she always did.

Then comes the landing, and her bike just fucking breaks beneath her. It doesn’t skid out or twist wrong. It snaps. Just folds under her, abruptly giving up and sending her flying again, through the air she just trusted, before she hits the tree trunk with her left side at full speed.

I flinch, just like I did the last twenty or so times I watched this.

It hurts the same every damn time.

If I didn’t love this sport so much, I’d send this video to Rachel and Kevin as a warning. As a way for them to understand the risks, maybe then they’d reconsider before diving headfirst into this career.

Not that I have any new ideas or sponsors to offer them. I still have nothing in hand, which is why I’m torturing myself with this video. It’s easier to spiral into the complex feelings that Alaina Crews stirs in me than to confront the uncertainty of my future and theirs.

The camera cuts to an overhead view of the track, and when it switches back, Alaina is already surrounded by medics, lying on the ground, her body jerking. Her gloved hands claw at her throat like she can’t breathe, and blood blooms under her jersey, blotting out the white like ink in water.

Then the feed cuts to the crowd’s reactions. The girls in the hot seat are wide-eyed and frozen, hands over their mouths as they stare up at the monitors.

Except Isla Raine, that is, whose expression is blank.

And then the shot changes one last time, to the helicopter rising above the trees, lifting Alaina’s broken body away.

I remember watching it from the top of the track with Dane. The second air betrayed her, she hit that tree, and he was on his bike, taking the maintenance trail down the mountain. He didn’t look back, wait for me, or give me time to catch up to figure out what the hell had just happened.

I guess I’d been frozen too.

By the time I made it to the bottom, he was long gone. I called him over and over again after that, but he didn’t answer. After the race, I went to the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me in.

Wasn’t family, my ass.

I had every right to be there. I’d been part of them, racing with Dane, laughing with Alaina, practically living out of each other’s gear bags for four seasons straight. But there wasn’t a shared last name on my ID, and Dane still wasn’t picking up his fucking phone to vouch for me.

So I was left outside, with no updates or explanations, only to pick up information from whispers and rumors like everyone else.

And then they were gone.

I told myself it wasn’t my place, that they needed space, and if Dane or Alaina wanted to talk, they’d reach out. Now I know better, now I know what really happened, and I can’t stop thinking about it. All of it.

But mostly, my thoughts just drift back to her.

I hit replay again, this time paying more attention to the moments before the crash.

I recognize this girl.

She was scrappy and hilarious, always buzzing with energy and trying to keep up, always trying to make herself seen. She had that huge laugh, those impossible ideas, and that weird little stubborn streak that made her throw herself down trails that scared even me.

But this new version of her? She’s something else.

She didn’t just grow up, she grew sharp. Time didn’t smooth her out, but carved her into something harder, like every scar she picked up made her meaner, smarter, and more impossible to break.

She still throws comebacks like knives, still has that dry, ruthless humor that hits you five minutes too late. Except they don’t come from a place of joy anymore.

Every quip hides a landmine.

I watch the crash once more, every horrifying detail, and again, I flinch.

Despite what happened and all the time that has passed, talking to her still feels easy. Easier than it should.

It’s like when she was seventeen and always paying close attention to me, like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

Back then, I thought it was just her crushing, but maybe I was wrong about that too.

Maybe that’s just who she was. Who she still is.

Either way, it feels like she wants to hear what I have to say.

And I haven’t had a lot of that lately.

And yeah, I missed her. I missed Dane, too, constantly, but this with Alaina? It’s not the same. I didn’t know how badly I’d been missing her until she came back, and now I can’t stop watching her like she might disappear again.

Because underneath all that fire, all that grit, there’s still the kid who used to tug on my sleeve when I got too caught up in my head. The girl who braided flower bracelets in the middle of track walks just to piss Dane off.

She didn’t quite grow into the woman I expected her to, but here she is, tough as nails, and despite her new persona, she’s still as gorgeous as those wildflowers.

And somehow, that might be even harder to deal with.

I sigh and am just about to watch it again, just one more time when my phone buzzes. As if summoned, Dane’s name flashes on the screen. It’s well after midnight, and my stomach knots as my thumb swipes to answer.

“Yo, what’s up, man? ”

Hacking coughs greet me.

I sit up straighter in the bed. “Jesus, Dane. You okay?”

“I need your help,” he rasps.

I’m up and walking to the door without a thought. “What do you need?”

“We had a fight.” He wheezes between words. “It was bad. She stormed out, and I… I can’t go after her. I can’t even stand right now without nearly passing out. But fuck, Finn. I’m scared she’s gonna do… do something stupid. ”

My blood freezes in my veins, but I jolt into motion.

I won’t be standing frozen at the top of the mountain this time.

Adrenaline kicks in as I yank my sweatpants on one leg at a time while keeping the phone pressed to my ear.

“Where do you think she’s gone?”

“She doesn’t know anyone here, doesn’t speak the language, but she couldn’t have gotten far from the bus yet.”

I flick the light on, my shoes biting into my flesh as I shove my feet into them without untying them.

“She’s not answering her phone,” Dane says desperately, his voice cracking.

“Okay.” I grab my hoodie and pull it over my head. “I’ll check the nearby streets. The trails too. She’s probably just cooling off, yeah?”

I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, myself or him.

“Finn… please find her.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I’ve got this. I’m gonna find her.”

For the next two hours, I comb the streets around the hotel, every alley, every bench, but nothing. After the first half hour, I even started calling her real name.

By the time I circle back to the hotel, my hoodie is damp with sweat, and my legs are burning from pacing half the damn village .

My heart pounds in my ears as I head toward the hotel bar in a last-ditch effort. I don’t think she’s the type to drink when she’s spiraling, but I also didn’t think she’d vanish into the night either. It only takes me a couple of minutes of searching to realize that she’s not there.

I pull out my phone to call Dane, who answers immediately.

“Did you find her?”

“No, I just wanted to update you. I’m gonna wake some teammates and get some help. I’ve looked everywhere, man, but… she’s just gone .”

A choked cough sounds through the phone, or maybe it’s a sob, and the failure presses in on me. When I make it to the elevator, my subconscious picks up on something well before I do.

Muffled music.

I whirl toward the sound, toward the back of the hotel, slowly registering what I’m hearing—Sum 41’s “Pieces,” and it’s coming from the hotel gym.

“I think I found her. I’ll call back soon.” I end the call and slip my phone into my pocket, my strides lengthening as I head toward the low pulse of music.

I glance through the glass door first, but from this angle, I can’t see anyone. Pushing against the handle, I step inside.

The smell of rubber mats and stale air hits me as I walk past the treadmills and toward the music. And there she is. The weight of an entire mountain lifts off my chest as I finally lay eyes on the woman I’ve been searching for.

Alaina.

Her back is to me, sweat shimmering along the curve of her spine, trailing from the base of her cropped hairline and disappearing between the muscles that shift beneath her skin as she moves. She’s in shorts and a sports bra, her hoodie tossed carelessly over the bench beside her phone .

She’s lifting a barbell, facing the mirror, so I see all of her at once. The strength in her shoulders. The tension in her jaw.

And the tears.

I forget how to breathe because for the first time, I really see her.

Not the rookie she pretends to be.

Not my best friend’s little sister, who looked at me like I hung the moon.

Her.

Beautiful in a way that isn’t soft. Fierce in a way that isn’t loud.

Her tears cut lines through the grit on her face as she punishes her body, and I watch, mesmerized, before I take in the rest of her more closely.