Page 42 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Alaina

The cold shower doesn’t soothe the agony.

It never really does, but I keep hoping the next shower will be the magic one—the miracle rinse that resets my system, eases the ache clawing up my spine, and doesn’t feel like I’m being waterboarded by my own choices.

No such luck.

By the time I step out, my skin is clammy, my teeth are chattering, and the stabbing pain in my hip has invited a few new friends to the party , including my lower back and the lower left quadrant of my entire goddamn life. It’s like my body is trying to stage a mutiny one vertebra at a time.

I mechanically dry off and go through the motions of putting on boxers, socks rolled and stuffed where they need to be, and the binder cinched tight. I pull on a clean hoodie and the softest pair of sweatpants I own. They hang low on my hips, which helps, but also makes me feel weirdly exposed.

Pushing open the bathroom door, I step out with a pained groan.

“You all right? You’re all… white. ”

I squint at Dane, trying to work out if I heard that right. “Rich, coming from you.”

He looks like a ghost who lost a fight against germs. He’s still coughing and sniffling, but sitting up now, which is an improvement from the human pile of blankets he was yesterday. His hair is a mess, eyes red-rimmed and bleary.

“I’m worried.”

I roll my eyes and brush past him toward the kitchenette, every step a battle. “Yeah, I know. You’re worried all the fucking time.”

Another stab of pain spears through my lower abdomen, and I grab the counter for support, holding my breath until it passes.

Fuck, this is new, and it’s not good.

It’s not the familiar throb but a twisting, grinding pull that radiates heat down through my thighs and up my spine until my vision pulses at the edges.

“Alaina,” Dane says again, but softer now, and somehow that’s worse.

“I’m fine, okay?” My voice is thin, tight, and clearly not fine.

“I can’t hear it anymore. ‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’ You’re not.”

He’s right, but if I say it out loud, if I admit it, then I can’t keep pushing through and pretending the plan is still working, that I’m still working.

So I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping my back to him, trying to hold myself together with sheer force of will.

Another slice of pain hits, squeezing until I’m dizzy. I double over slightly, pressing my palm against my abdomen, biting down on the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper.

What the hell is this?

Appendicitis?

Every inch of me is fire, pressure, and nausea, and through it all, I hear Dane’s bunk creak as he starts to rise, coughing hard again.

“Don’t. Just… don’t get up. I said I’m fine.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and I know he’s watching me, probably seeing every tremor and twitch I can’t hide. I try to straighten up, but another jolt of pain knifes through me, and I let out an involuntary gasp, quiet, but not quiet enough.

“Alaina.” Dane’s voice is full of that big-brother panic I can’t handle right now.

But I still don’t turn around. If he sees my face, he’ll see everything. “I’m gonna go to Piper, okay? Maybe she can help.”

A huff followed by, “ Fine. ” Just that. One word bitten off.

We haven’t talked about the fight or the fact that I didn’t sleep here the other night.

I didn’t even come close to spilling that I kissed Finn, snuggled with Luc, or that I’m falling apart in every direction.

Maybe he’s just happy I came back and wants to pretend the rest doesn’t exist for another week or two, until he can hold his own in an emotional fight against me.

Not that I’m in any state to have said fight either.

Fuck.

I head out without another word because if I stay, I might break. If I break, I don’t get to race.

And if I don’t race, none of this means anything.

The pain kicks in harder with every step toward the pits, and by the time I hit the edge of Luc’s, every muscle from my hip to my abdomen is in full-blown rebellion. The pills I took earlier might as well have been Tic Tacs.

I’m second-guessing the plan to see Piper and not just drive to the nearest hospital when Luc steps out from the pit tent, laughing over his shoulder at something his mechanic says.

And just like that, the pain pauses.

Or maybe I forget it exists because Luc looks like he walked off the cover of Reckless Idiots Monthly .

His shirt has ridden up his waist, exposing his V-lines.

His hair is tousled, sunglasses pushed up into his mess of curls.

He’s sun-drenched and smiling, and it’s offensive how hot he looks when I feel like a drowned rat.

Luc turns, sees me, and his whole face lights up like someone flipped a switch, making my heart do a stupid flip.

“ Petit !” he calls out, already striding toward me. “Was just about to come looking for you.”

I clench my fists at my sides, unsure what to do with my hands. “You were?”

“Yeah.” He grins, slowing as he gets close, reaching out to stroke my cheek with the knuckles of his hand. “Thought maybe you wanted to go out and eat a Kaiserschmarrn. Ever had one? I could bathe in them.”

I laugh. “You could what?”

“Bathe. Full body immersion,” he says with a dramatic hand gesture down his perfectly shaped body. “They’re these fluffy, shredded pancakes? Drenched in powdered sugar and jam. Sweet, buttery, caramelized sin.”

I actually had one with Dane and Finn the last time we raced here. We’d crammed into a corner booth after practice, Finn snatching bites from my plate, Dane pretending to be mad about it.

I shove that memory down hard and fast.

“What do you think?” Luc’s blue eyes twinkle before they heat up a notch. “Or did you come over for another cuddle session? I’m down for that too.”

“No.” I bite my lip, and his gaze follows the movement before he searches the rest of my face, and the flirt vanishes from his face in a blink.

“You okay?” He tilts his head and squints at me like he’s trying to x-ray my bones. “Did you hurt yourself during practice?”

“No.”

I did the bare minimum today, just enough not to raise questions. Skipped the segments where I’d normally push myself and let the others ride ahead while I hung back like I was line-watching, which is total bullshit.

Luc steps closer. “Is the bruise still hurting? Fuck, I haven’t even looked.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing the hem of my hoodie like he’s about to lift it.

“Luc.” I catch his wrist. “It’s not that. Is Piper here?”

His brows pull together. “Why?”

“I need her.”

“Then let’s get her.” He grabs my hand and leads me through the pit, nodding to people as we pass, and I feel the questioning glances, the ones that wonder what I’m doing here, but Luc doesn’t seem to care.

He pushes open the back door to the massage and recovery area like he owns the place. “Otis, get your naked ass out of here!”

“Delacroix!” Piper’s voice snaps from inside. “You can wait for your session like everybody else!”

“I sure can…” Luc says smoothly, “… but Petit Crews can’t.”

A beat of silence follows, then Piper appears in the doorway, mouth already in a frown as she scans me from head to toe. “You okay?”

I shake my head minutely, just once.

Otis emerges from the room behind her, bare-chested, zipping up his shorts. And sure, he’s hot, like real hot. Pro rider hot. But standing next to Luc Delacroix ?

Not even in the same solar system.

Luc claps Otis on the back. “Come on, mon ami , I’ll grab you a Kaiserschmarrn. We’ll bond. I’ll feed you with a fork.”

“Pass. On the feeding part,” Otis mutters, tugging his shirt over his head with a huff as he walks out.

Luc lingers in the doorway, but his attention shifts back to me. He leans closer, voice soft. “I’ll find you when you’re done, yeah?”

He’s smiling that smile, the one that melts your brain when you look at it too long. Something bright and genuine flashes in his eyes, like the chaos has burned off for a second, and all that’s left is warmth.

They hit me right in the gut.

Butterflies.

Stupid, traitorous butterflies.

My lips twitch in barely a smile, but of course, he catches it and smiles even brighter. I reach up and press my palm to his cheek, pushing his face gently to the side like I’m shoving away the sun.

“Go,” I say.

He laughs in delight all the way out.

Piper shuts the door behind him and turns with that no-nonsense look she does so well. “What the fuck is going on?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t know. My hip hurts like a bitch, which is normal, but now it’s also my lower back and abdomen.”

She frowns. “Did you fall?”

“No.”

“Get on the bench, show me where it hurts.”

I climb up slowly, my body feeling like it’s made from rusted parts, and lie back with a wince. I press my hands to the spots, and she watches, eyebrows knitting tighter by the second.

“Are you on your period?”

“No.” I snort, which might also be a wince. “I haven’t had a period since the crash.”

That stops her. “Wait, really? How come?”

I keep my eyes on the ceiling because looking at her feels like too much. “My abdomen was a train wreck. Surgeries, internal damage. They said there’s scar tissue around my fallopian tubes. Apparently, that means I’m infertile.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Piper’s face has softened when I glance back at her. “But that wouldn’t usually stop your period completely.”

I blink. “It wouldn’t?”

She gives me a look. “Well, I’m not a gynecologist, but… didn’t you ask one?”

“Uh… no? And honestly? I was kind of psyched to be done with it. I figured it was a silver lining. Please don’t jinx it.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not the one lying here doubled over in pain.”

“It’s not cramps,” I bite out. “It fucking hurts . And I’m not bleeding.”

“Could be PMS or something. I get cramps two or three days before anything shows up.”

“Maybe my appendix burst,” I mutter, shifting like that might help. It doesn’t.

“If your appendix burst, you’d probably be unconscious, not sass-talking me.”

“I have a high pain tolerance.”