Page 47 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Finn

The air is thick with heat and noise as sweat sticks to the back of my neck, soaking into my jersey’s collar. The sun’s relentless heat bakes down on the finish area where fans are packed in tight.

I’m still panting, my chest rising and falling faster than it should for someone who’s already finished his run, but that’s what the hot seat does to you.

Raine is holding first for now, but his run wasn’t the cleanest. He went out hard but butchered two corners. His lead won’t hold, not with the riders still left at the top.

I lean forward, my elbows braced on my knees and eyes locked on the big screen, my focus narrowing as the next rider’s name flashes up.

Delacroix.

The crowd stirs again, and I can feel the tension shift, not just mine, but the whole finish area as we’re all waiting to see what he’ll do.

Love him or hate him, Delacroix puts on a show.

He’s “ Smooth Criminal” by Alien Ant Farm. There’s a flow to the way he handles the bike that doesn’t just come from talent. It’s instinct, rhythm , that unteachable thing that sets the great ones apart.

He jumps in, and his lines are buttery smooth, clean like someone slid him back into the groove where he belongs after the fucked-up disaster that was his last race.

I watch intently as he flies down the mountain, hits the final stretch, tucks low, and shoots across the finish line in first place by a margin wide enough that Raine shifts in his seat, that scowl settling in as he watches his lead slip away.

I stand and step down to take the third-place seat as Luc struts toward the hot seat, helmet swinging lazily from one hand, that grin of his cranked up to full throttle when he reaches me and bumps my fist.

We may have clashed a little, but credit where it’s due, the guy earns every fucking race he wins.

Raine is not like that.

He doesn’t win by being better. He wins by making other people worse, undermining them or throwing them off balance. It’s never about the cleanest line with him but about the crack he can force open in you.

I don’t trust that kind of racer. Hell, I don’t trust that kind of man.

Payne is up next, and like every race, he rides like he’s in a fistfight and the mountain is the opponent with aggression in every corner, every jump, and every second of airtime. But the bastard is fast.

I watch him muscle through the run, and even with the flaws, it’s enough to get him across the line in second place, sliding in between Luc and Raine.

When he sees his time, he yanks off his helmet, chest heaving, but scowling even harder than usual. He always races angry, maybe that’s what keeps him going.

Or maybe it’s what is holding him back.

Anyway, that’s my cue. I push up from the hot seat, shoulders rolling back, only to see Luc sprawled across first place like he owns it.

Yeah, let him be smug. Let him have this moment while he still can.

Because my baby girl is next.

And she’s going to kick all our asses.

The thought makes me smirk, but then I replay my thoughts, and the wind is knocked out of me. My baby girl? I almost stumble right there because she’s not mine. I made sure to fuck that up. Shit.

I catch sight of Dane at the edge of the finish area, standing off to the side where the crowd has thinned out. He’s looking better, less pale, though now and then he coughs into his sleeve. Moving toward him, my steps turn heavy with thoughts of his sister.

About the kiss that never should have happened, the moment when everything blurred together, right and wrong, want and guilt, until the only thing that mattered was her mouth on mine. The way she melted against me like we’d been waiting for that moment all along. I can still feel it.

The heat of her, the way her breath caught when I touched her, the soft, desperate sound she made when I kissed her back, the way her fingers curled into my hoodie like she didn’t want to let go. And fuck, I didn’t want to let go either.

I haven’t slept right since. Haven’t felt right since.

Reaching Dane, I plant myself next to him and nod like I’m not torn up inside with guilt over wanting his little sister. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, man, nice run. You good?”

“Yeah,” I say too fast. “I’m good.”

I’m not.

Not even close .

I should tell him, spit it out and let it wreck me, but the words stay lodged in my throat. Putting more weight on Dane right now? I can’t do that. He’s already carrying enough. And truthfully, I’m a fucking coward.

I just got Dane and Alaina back, this fragile piece of my past that I’ve been clawing toward for years. I can’t lose it already, not when I just lost the future I was supposed to have, and not when Kevin and Rachel are texting me every day for updates, and I’m lying my ass off to them too.

I’m a disappointment to them and to Dane and Alaina, most of all. So what’s one more lie? To hold the pieces together a little longer before everything falls apart.

Just until the end of the season.

Everything that comes after is already fucked anyway.

I exhale slowly through my nose and glance out at the course like the wind might carry this guilt out of my lungs, might whisper back a version of myself that isn’t always fucking everything up.

But I have to say something . If I don’t, Alaina or I might slip, and Dane will notice, if she hasn’t told him already.

Fuck, did she tell him something?

“She knows. Alaina. She found out I know about her.”

Dane’s head whips toward me. “She mad?”

Apparently , she didn’t.

I open my mouth, then close it again.

Is she mad? Probably, and hurt, but not for the reason Dane thinks.

“I don’t think so,” I murmur.

“Good.” Dane exhales sharply. “God, I’m relieved she knows. Not having to watch what I say is gonna be a fucking relief. I hate lying to her.”

I stare straight ahead, my heart heavy with the weight of everything.

I hate lying to you too .

Rubbing a hand over my jaw, I try to scrub the guilt off my skin.

I should just keep my mouth shut, but the words are already pressing against my teeth, scraping at the back of my throat, desperate for a way out.

I need to talk to somebody about this mess, but the Crews siblings are the only people I have.

“Hey, you ever have a friend who… umm…” I grimace, “… got too close to someone they shouldn’t have?”

He tilts his head, squinting a little. “Too close, like what? Cheating?”

“No. Not like that. Just… someone they shouldn’t feel that way about.”

Dane’s eyebrows pull together. “Don’t tell me you’re talking about your ex. You didn’t go back to her, did you?”

The accusation hits so sideways I choke on it. “What? No!” I shake my head hard. “That ship’s sunk. Burned. Buried. Fuck her. ” I breathe deep, scrub a hand down my face, and keep my voice even as I push out, “It’s about my friend, Dane. Friend , yeah?”

Dane snorts but plays along. “Sure. What did your friend do, then?”

I roll my jaw and force the words out. “He crossed a line with someone he shouldn’t have.”

Dane lifts a brow, skeptical. “Why shouldn’t he cross that line?”

“Because she’s off-limits.”

“What makes her off-limits?”

I swallow hard. “She’s too young.”

And your sister.

Dane groans and lets his head fall to his shoulders, looking up to the sky. “Please tell me she’s at least eighteen.”

“Dane,” I snap. “Can you just listen for a second? It’s not like that, all right? She’s not a minor. Christ. ”

He holds up his hands, but his eyes stay hard. Skeptical. “Okay. Okay.”

“It’s just… there’s a big age gap. Really big.

” Dane’s face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt, waiting for more.

“And he’s not a bad guy,” I add, softer, like maybe if I say it enough, it’ll be true.

“He never planned for this. It just… happened. One second, everything’s where it should be, and the next, it’s not, and now it feels all kinds of fucked-up, but at the same time, it feels right . ”

Dane leans against the railing, crossing his arms. “Right and fucked don’t usually go together, man.”

I drop my head, but the words keep coming. I need him to understand. “The thing is… he knows if he leans into the feelings, if he lets this become something, it could break the friendship. And fuck, if that happens…”

I trail off because finishing that thought feels too dangerous.

“Real friendships don’t break like that.” Dane is back to looking at the screen. “Look at us. We’ve been through hell. You and me, we’re still here. We’ll always be.”

I swallow hard. God, I want to believe that.

“But I get what you’re saying. That kind of thing could make a mess out of both of them.” Dane glances at me again. “You sure this is about a friend ?”

I scoff, try to laugh it off, but it comes out thin. “Just a friend.”

His gaze lingers on me for longer than I like, but then he shrugs. “Well, sometimes it’s better to leave it alone. Let people figure their shit out without making it worse.”

I nod, stuffing my hands deep into my pockets, feeling like I’m drowning in my own skin.

“Maybe it is.” But all I can feel is the ache of wanting to do anything but leave it alone.

Dane leans heavier into the railing, that crooked grin sliding back into place. “Look, man, you know I’d still be here for you, right? Even if you went and knocked up one of the young riders on the circuit.”

I snap my head toward him, eyes wide, but he just chuckles, which turns into a cough by the end.

“I mean, sometimes shit like that’s just fate,” he says, giving me hope briefly before ruining it. “And five years from now, when you’re married, chasing a toddler around the pits, no one’s gonna care about the age difference. They’ll just ask how you’re surviving on two hours of sleep.”

“ Jesus , Dane, it’s not like that.”

His grin spreads, teasing. “You sure, old man?”

I glare, but it’s hollow. “We’re the same age, asshole.”