Page 11 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

I snap my head around, frustration bubbling back to the surface. “Why is everybody saying that like it makes it better?”

“Because it does, depending on her reasoning. If you had something that big to reveal, would you tell anyone ? That doesn’t mean you’re targeting people or that you had ill intent.”

“Well, fuck. I don’t know.” I stare at the dashboard like it will give me answers. “But she did lie, and I don’t know why .”

“Exactly. Because you didn’t ask why .” He jabs a finger in my direction. “She was hurt badly back then, wasn’t she? I remember wondering how the hell a bike could snap like that, but, yeah. They said it was serious.”

“The headlines said she almost died that day.” My chest tightens when I think about my Bambi having been through all that.

Dad whistles low. “Shite. What a comeback.”

I groan. “Dad, stop being impressed by her.”

“Why?” He laughs. “This kid is so damn cool. You’re just being a grump about it.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I think I am.” He stands up, brushing off his jeans. “ How about we go back, huh? Figure this shit out? Is she still in the hospital?”

“I… I don’t know,” I say, and I hate how small my voice sounds. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ve got a week’s break before the next race. We absolutely can go back and talk to her, clear this mess. Maybe see if she needs anything. You know, like decent humans?”

I scowl. “Why would we help her?”

Dad doesn’t even blink. “Mase, whether she’s a boy, a girl, or a goddamn rat in a helmet, none of that changes the fact that she was there for you.

She stood up for you, she believed you. Does that change now just because of what’s in her pants?

” He shakes his head. “If that’s all it takes, then you’re not the friend I raised. ”

I look away, jaw clenching. “So, what, you’re saying fuck it , everything happens for a reason?”

“No, not everything happens for a reason. Some things should have never happened.” He squats again, gets in my line of sight.

“Some things are painfully unfair, and you didn’t deserve what happened to you.

It wasn’t fate. It was bullshit. You’re allowed to be mad about what Isla did. You’re allowed to be mad.”

I sit still, not sure I’m even breathing.

“But Alaina?” he continues. “She might’ve had a reason, and before we know it, we don’t get to judge. You were judged before anyone knew your side.”

Ah, bloody hell.

“And you went and did the fucking same. You judged her without knowing her reasons,” Dad huffs. “Without hearing her side, and that coming from you ? After everything?”

He lets the silence stretch, lets me feel the weight of it, before adding, “Do you really want to be that guy? After the way they treated you without the facts. Do you want to be the one who didn’t even ask? ”

Fuck.

I’ve spent months clawing my way back from what people thought I did, while none of them ever asked whether it was true.

They just assumed the worst. And I turned around and did the same thing to her, but she didn’t owe me anything more than what she gave.

She didn’t ask for my trust. I gave it to her freely. Desperately.

I didn’t even try to understand her. I just walked away.

The way they all walked away from me.

God.

I press my thumb hard against my brow. Maybe I can rub the guilt out?

What if she never tells me why?

What if I don’t deserve to hear it?

Dad finally breaks the silence. “You got a number?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Alaina. You got her number?”

I frown. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Well then, we’re gonna have to figure out where she is, aren’t we?”

“I think I know how.” I bite my lip, then reluctantly thumb open the message thread that’s been buzzing at the back of my brain all day.

The last message is still sitting there.

Luc

Don’t leave me on read, Pretty Boy.

I hit reply before I can talk myself out of it.

Alaina still at the hospital?

It doesn’t take long for him to answer.

Luc

Why the hell do you want to know?

I roll my eyes.

I want to talk to her.

Luc

You better not yell at her again. I swear to God, Payne, I’m gonna kill you if you even think about upsetting her. Enough shit’s going on right now.

Did something else happen? Or is he talking about her injuries?

I didn’t think I could feel any guiltier, but here we are.

I won’t. Promise.

There’s a pause, and I tap my finger against the side of my phone when his next text comes in.

Luc

Do you still have my hoodie?

My eyes flick down to the pink sleeves covering my hands.

Yeah. I’m literally wearing it.

What?

Luc

My hoodie. The pink one. You still have it, don’t you?

What about it? Want it back?

Luc

Just wondering if you slept in it :)

My brain short-circuits a little. I blink hard at the screen, like maybe if I stare long enough, the emoji will disappear.

I did sleep in it and am still wearing it.

I only took it off to shower, because it’s warm and it feels weirdly safe, and I hate how much I don’t want to take it off.

Dad gave me a look when I came back in it from the hospital, but didn’t say anything to me, just arched a brow and muttered something about “interesting color choices” before going back to his coffee.

Am I being flirted with?

Or is this just Delacroix’s natural level of French chaos?

Fuck it, I’ll just ask him.

Do you always flirt with people you threaten to murder?

Luc

Only the ones who look good in pink.

Goddammit.

My face goes hot, and I tug the hood tighter like that’s going to protect me from the sheer Luc-ness of that reply, but before I can even think of a comeback, another message comes in.

Luc

Come over. She’s staying with me, and we have plenty of guest rooms. You and your dad can crash here. We’ll talk and sort shit out .

Then a follow-up, with a location pin. Bonneville, France.

I stare at the map for a second, processing.

Then look over at my dad. “Okay. She’s at Luc’s place in France, more or less where we just came from. He says she’s in one of the guest rooms. And, uh… he invited us to stay too.”

Dad shrugs. “It’d be nice to grab a shower in a real bathroom and sleep on something that doesn’t feel like a wooden plank.” He stretches and yawns. “But it’s late. Let’s stay here tonight. I’ll drive back in the morning.”

“Yeah. That’s fair.”

I shoot Luc another text.

Thanks. We’ll drive out tomorrow, we’re already in Italy. Guest room sounds good.

His reply is immediate.

Luc

However long you want to stay, Pretty Boy.

I’ve got space for you, and other things, if you’re good.

I stare at the text, then the hoodie sleeves half-covering my hands, and exhale slowly.

What the fuck is my life right now?