Page 35 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Alaina

Knock. Knock.

“What the fuck, Finn,” I mutter under my breath before I groan into my pillow, burying my face for a second before I roll onto my back, every muscle stiff.

A quick glance toward Dane’s bunk across from mine tells me I’m still alone, and I lift my head and scan the rest of the bus.

It’s quiet, and apparently, no one else is inside.

No wonder.

I spent all of yesterday being a fucking menace, snapping at anyone who got too close, shutting down every attempt at conversation. I didn’t even go out for dinner with everybody else.

I had a call with my therapist, which helped a little, but I didn’t tell her about the problem, so after that, I just lay here, staring at the ceiling like it had answers, thinking about all the creative, stupid ways I could make my fingers work again.

Duct tape. That one kept coming back. Just tape my damn hand to the handlebar and force it to hold. Would that work? Maybe. Would it kill me on the way down the mountain? Also maybe.

I didn’t sleep much. Dane stayed in Piper’s hotel room last night because I practically shoved him out the door.

I told him I needed space and that they needed time together.

I meant it, but being alone in this bus, left alone with my thoughts and the weight of everything I can’t fix didn’t help.

If anything, it just gave the spiral more room to breathe.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time it’s sharper. More urgent.

“I’m gonna rip his fucking head off,” I mutter, shoving the blanket off. But when I slam the heel of my hand into the door switch and it hisses open, it’s not Finn standing there.

It’s Mason.

Startled, I automatically reach up to shove my messy bed hair back. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Shit.

He’s holding two water bottles, and one of his brows lifts slightly. “I was gonna ask… wait, were you still sleeping?”

I blush, ridiculously aware of how sloppy I must look. “Yeah, come in.”

Mason steps up into the bus, ducking slightly through the door before he sets the water bottles down on the table.

“Sorry,” I say, rubbing my face. “What time is it?”

He glances at his watch. “Little after ten.”

I groan and squeeze my eyes shut for a second. “Great.”

He steps toward me with narrowed eyes. “Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

Of course, he knows that without me outright saying it.

I shrug, keeping it light. “I don’t know. Just being back on the bus, I guess. There’s a lot going on.”

I don’t tell him about the panic curling around my ribs when I try to think about racing with these busted fingers, or about how Luc, Dane, and Piper all look at me like I might break in two.

Mason’s gaze drops to my hand. “Are you hurting?”

“No,” I say quickly. “No, I’m not. At least when I stay on top of the pills, it’s just…” I hesitate, then smile weakly. “I think I got spoiled sleeping next to someone.”

His eyes flick over to Dane’s bunk. “Didn’t he sleep here?”

“He was with Piper.” I force a shrug. “Maybe he’ll be back tonight. It’s fine.”

Mason’s jaw ticks. “It’s not fine when you can’t sleep. I’m sure Luc would let you sleep with him in his hotel room.”

“He probably would.” I look down at my fingers, flexing them gently. “But honestly, I don’t want to mess with his routine. Or distract him. He’s got his own prep to focus on, and I already feel like I’m too much.”

Mason lets out a breath, half-sigh, half-huff. “Luc doesn’t think like that. Trust me. Ask him. I’m sure he’d say yes in a heartbeat. But…” He hesitates, and I glance up just as he shifts his weight, nervous in a way Mason rarely is.

“If you don’t want to ask him … ” he says quietly, “ … or if he says no, we could get a hotel room together. You could sleep next to me.”

I blink. “Really?”

His eyes search my face in a way he did a few times already, asking silently for permission, and again, without knowing what he’s asking, I give it with a nod.

Mason steps forward, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into his chest like he needs the hug as much as I do.

“I know I’m not Luc.” His voice is a whisper against my ear. “But if you don’t want to ask anyone for help, you can ask nobody . I can hold you through the night.”

I sag into him, all the tension melting for just a second as I slide my arms around his waist and bury my face in his shirt. When I breathe in his pine scent, everything doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“I’d love that,” I whisper, then pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Another beat of silence passes before I lift a brow. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Mason lets go of me, and I instantly miss his warmth. With a glint of mischief in his eye, he says, “I came to ask if you’re in the mood to sit and watch our boy play the drama queen during pit setup.”

My answering smile comes easily. “Oh my God , yes.”

He laughs softly, clearly pleased with himself for dragging me out of my spiral. The sound makes something loosen in my chest, but then I glance down at myself—oversized shirt, no binder, nothing even close to passable for being out in public.

Ugh.

“Give me a minute.”

Leaning his hip against the table, he crosses his ankles and arms like he’s got all day. He’s in all black, as usual, and somehow it still catches me off guard how fucking good he looks in it, which makes me probably check him out for a beat too long.

“If you don’t move, we’re gonna miss the show,” Mason mutters, but I catch the amusement in his tone.

I roll my eyes, cheeks heating as I grab a sock from the small storage bin and head toward the tiny bathroom cubby at the back of the bus.

I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, put on some deodorant, and run my fingers through my hair until it looks slightly less like a bird’s nest. It helps. Not enough, but a little .

Afterward, I tuck the sock where it needs to be in my boxers, then step out into the main space again. I grab my binder from the overhead shelf, then give Mason my back when I pull my shirt over my head. No way I’m going into that bathroom again. It’s too cramped, the air too damp.

I fumble with the small hooks on each side of my ribs, my left hand straining to keep the tension with only three fingers, while my right hand tries to close each one. I get one, then lose it trying to do the second. Over and over.

I hear his boots before I feel him at my back. “Can I?” His voice is hesitant.

Yes, anything, my body seems to answer, because I nod without thought and let go, letting the ends fall to my side.

He takes them without touching my skin. Doesn’t even brush against me as he works, just hooks the clasps and smooths the fabric into place, way softer with it all than I would’ve been.

“There.”

Goose bumps rise along my spine like a wave, and his knuckles graze along them, then travel over to my ribs and down my sides. The touch is light, almost accidental, but then his finger trails lower, over the scars at my hip.

Fuck, I forgot about them.

“You know, I was so worried for you back then. I wondered how you were doing. More often than I probably should’ve.”

“You were?” I look at him over my shoulder, searching his face. “We never even talked.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t meet my eyes, almost seeming self-conscious. “Sorry about that. I was shy back then. You probably didn’t notice, but I watched you a lot.”

“I watched you too.”

His answering smile is a little crooked. “Told myself if I ever got on your team, I’d finally kick my own ass and say hello or… more.”

I reach back and take his hand, squeezing it. “Hello.”

His smirk deepens, eyes sparking as he squeezes back. “Hello, Alaina Crews .”

A spark shoots straight through me, but he gives me a tug, so I don’t dwell on it long.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“Can I go like this?” I ask after I pull on one of my oversized T-shirts, eyeing my loose shorts and bare knees.

“Sure.”

As I snag my pill organizer off the shelf, Mason watches me, quieter for a moment.

I glance at him, then down at the pills before swallowing them dry. “I take the smallest dose that still works. I’m careful.”

He didn’t ask, but I still want to reassure him, and he gives me a grateful nod before we walk toward the front of the bus.

He pauses at the door. “You ready?”

He’s still holding my hand, and he’s going to have to let go before we walk out.

I take a breath, straighten my spine, and hold back a wince at feeling the binder again. Then I drop my voice to the low tone I use with everyone outside our inner circle. “Ready.”

Mason laughs. “Fuck. I have no idea how I didn’t see right through your cover. Your man voice is so damn bad .”

“No, it’s not,” I say, dropping it even lower just to mess with him.

He groans. “Okay, Darth Vader. Calm down.”

We both laugh as we grab the water bottles he brought and head outside. The morning sun is crisp as we walk across the lot toward the chaos that is Luc’s pit .

The pink tent is halfway up, and the crew is wrestling with one of the vinyl banners while Luc stands dead center, holding a corner of it, his expression locked somewhere between majestic disdain and first-world agony.

I snort. “Why does he look like a toddler in time-out?”

“Because he is.” Mason chuckles as we both drop onto the low metal railing across from the pit. The warm steel presses into my shorts as I take a sip of the water then set the bottle down on the ground in front of me.

Luc’s entire face lights up like someone flipped a switch when he spots us. He abandons the vinyl, throwing both arms into the air to wave at us, like the toddler in question.

We’re both laughing at how adorable he looks, and I glance at Mason to see his ears turning a little red.

“Fuck,” Mason says through another chuckle.

He looks so happy. I’ve never seen him like this, and it hits me hard, because yeah, I have the same problem.

“I have no idea what he’s doing to me,” he says quietly. “I think about him all the time.” He glances my way. “Is it just me, or…”