Page 5 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

CHAPTER THREE

Luc

“ Fuck all of this, ” Mason growls, storming down the hallway.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I call after him, running to catch up, then keeping pace with him as we head toward the exit. “What is even your problem? That a girl was faster than you?”

He spins on me. “That’s not my fucking problem.”

“Then what is?”

“That she lied , Luc! God, do I have to spell it out for you?”

I throw my hands wide. “Do I have to spell it out for you ? She didn’t lie to you . She came here like this. She didn’t plan to get close to us . You think she showed up disguised, racing the men’s circuit, just to fuck with our heads?”

His dark eyes bore into me. “Why did she do it then?”

“The fuck I know! But that’s the whole damn point, I want to ask her, not punish her. We don’t get to decide her reasons before she’s had a chance to explain.”

Fuck, I’m confused as hell too .

I thought I fell in love with a guy. And yeah, after my birthday and that kiss, I was more than sure I’d fallen hard.

And it’s not a guy after all, which is fine by me.

It’s whatever at that point. It doesn’t change how my heart reacted every time she looked at me like she could see under my skin, or how I wanted to make her laugh just to hear it. Hell, it explains a lot , though.

But mostly I want to understand her. I want her to let me in , into that big, complicated, beautifully fucked-up secret that is apparently called Alaina Crews. I want her to look at me and know I can handle the whole truth, even the messy parts.

And if I’m being honest, I’m relieved, because for weeks I thought her refusing to be my friend had something to do with me , that I’d said the wrong thing or wasn’t worth the space in her life.

Turns out, she was just hiding a whole-ass identity.

Which makes me feel a little better, maybe a lot better. I’m a vain bastard, and it helps to know it wasn’t about me.

“Explain what?” Mason bites out. “How I spilled my fucking guts to her, told her shit I’ve never said out loud, only to find out she didn’t trust me the same way?”

I flinch because, yeah, jealousy spikes, crawling up the back of my throat. Not because they are close, or because he opened up to her, but because I wasn’t in on it.

He told her things I’ll probably never know.

I have no idea why that bugs me, but it does. Fuck, after that stupid drive over—after we talked—I want more of that, but I shove it down, hard, and snap back instead.

“She tried to be there for you without losing her cover, imbécile .”

I know she tried to keep her distance, but we got in anyway. We made her trust us, even when she didn’t want to .

Mason frowns down at his shoes, and I leave him to process, pacing a few steps ahead as I also try to make sense of the chaos still spiraling through my chest.

How could I have not seen it?

She had that petite frame, those soft hands, the beautiful face that was always just a little too feminine. But I brushed all that off because who the hell questions someone moving like that on a bike?

Now I can’t stop seeing it—her softness, the way her eyes held things back, not only because she was hiding, but because she was scared.

And fuck, I can’t find it in me to be mad at her. Not after seeing her like that, broken in a hospital bed, high on medications, cute as fuck, and still so mine.

But I need to hear it from her. I need her to say it, to explain it all.

“You shouldn’t have been so mean to her,” I say, whipping back around toward Mason. “You can go cool off, but we’re gonna talk about this again when we’re all straight-headed.”

Straight.

Fuck, does that mean I’m straight after all?

I start pacing again, tugging at my hair. I was into her before I knew, except not him, because it was her all along. But then again…

Realizing Payne hasn’t responded, I glance up to find his reflection in the sliding glass doors, still fuming like a thundercloud with that perfect little scowl on his face.

Yeah.

Maybe not.

My gaze travels down to the reflection of his lips.

She wanted us to kiss.

Sure, she was high as hell, floating on Dilaudid and delusions, but would she really want that ?

Do I?

Merde. Stop thinking about that, Luc. Focus.

Mason’s reflection grows bigger before he storms past me, and I fall into step behind him as we leave the hospital. It’s still raining, not with the fury of the wild storm from earlier, but enough to soak your shoulders if you stand still for too long.

I tug on the back of my hoodie that’s still clinging to him, stopping him from going any further. “How do you even plan to get back? Because I’m not leaving without her.”

“Not your damn problem,” he growls. “I’ll find a way. Just fuck off .”

I yank the hoodie harder, surprised he hasn’t pulled away. “Why are you acting like a dick? She’s in there hurting. She thinks you’re her friend, and you?—”

“Yeah?” Mason snaps, whipping around to face me, pulling the fabric from my fingers. “And I thought he was mine. ”

His gaze flits around like he’s looking for which direction to take, and I grab him. His biceps are hot through the soaked fabric as I pull him toward me until we’re chest to chest, breath to breath. His eyes widen in shock as the rain falls on us, reminding me of Petite and our first kiss.

His brow furrows when our eyes meet, and I can’t think about her now that I’m this close to Mason.

Close enough to see it all.

Not just the rage, but the hurt he’s trying to hide with anger.

It’s in his eyes, wild and dark and so goddamn raw it makes something ache deep inside me.

His muscles bunch under my hands like he’s seconds from falling apart, and he smells of pine, storm, and sweat and, fuck me , faint traces of my scent, which is clinging to the hoodie.

And yeah, my cock notices .

What’s more concerning, though, is this sickening, fluttering pull in my chest. Mon Dieu , he looks so fucking good in my hoodie—drenched, scowling, fierce, and somehow still the most heartbreakingly beautiful bastard I’ve ever seen.

I want to take his hurt away.

Just like I do for Petite.

His lips part with heavy breaths, like he’s trying to breathe through the weight of the whole world.

And still, he doesn’t pull away. He’s breaking, right here in front of me, and I think I want, no, need to hold the pieces together.

And he wants me to hold them, too, even if he hasn’t realized it.

He releases my gaze, dropping his chin to his chest, but I keep holding on.

He said that the world turned on him, and he’s still standing.

Alone. Barely. The guilt of all the cruel shit I said in the van, the names I called him, the judgment I shot his way, nearly takes me out as I look at the last year in a completely different way.

He was just trying to survive.

Still is.

I squeeze his arms, trying to ground both of us. “ Hey. ”

He doesn’t look up, so I slide my hands to his back, almost into a hug.

“You can stay,” I say, quieter now. “We can talk. Okay? You’re not alone, Mason.”

With aching slowness, he lifts his head, his cheek brushing my chin. Our gazes clash again, and for the first time, it isn’t competitive or hostile. It’s common ground, a tentative trust.

My eyes flick to his lips again, and his breath hitches, but then there’s a screech of tires and Mason jerks, stepping away from me, just as a small, battered yellow car halts with a dramatic lurch in front of the hospital.

I blink, and my arms slowly fall to my sides .

No.

It can’t be.

The door swings open like the damn thing has been kicked, and out climbs Maman , heels clicking against wet pavement, scarf flying like she’s some stylish superhero.

I glance at Mason a second before my mother barrels into me like I’m still eight years old and fell off my bike, wrapping me in a fierce hug that smells of Chanel and home.

“ Mon Dieu, Luc! ” She gasps, gripping my face between her hands. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“ Maman , what are you doing here?”

She raises her eyebrows at me like I’m the crazy one. “I saw your man crash, and I needed to see whether he’s okay.”

My heart stutters, and warmth blooms in my chest, caught somewhere between affection and complete shock. She saw Petite crash and didn’t hesitate. She just came, because she knew he— she —mattered to me.

“I saw your run, too, Mason. You did so well.” Maman smiles at him, and he blinks. Actually blinks, like he doesn’t even know how to process maternal approval.

There’s a lot more where that just came from, mon ami.

“Uh, thanks?” he mutters, almost making me laugh.

“What does he have?” Maman asks, glancing toward the hospital doors.

“Some broken fingers and a concussion.”

And apparently a chatte and not a bite.

“ Mon Dieu. ” She exhales and straightens her shoulders. “Well? Are we going in?”

I cock an eyebrow at Mason, but he just shakes his head, his jaw all tight again.

Those fucking walls around him better mark their days.

I sigh, digging in my pocket before tossing him the keys. “ Bring the van back to Paul. Tell him I went home for the break.”

Mason turns on his heel and walks toward the van like he can’t get away fast enough. I want to run after him and demand he stay with me, but then Maman ’ s hand settles on my forearm. Apparently, the universe decided I needed parenting instead.

I compromise by yelling after him. “And get your head out of your ass while you’re gone, Payne! You have my number, so fucking use it ! And if you tell a soul, I will light your ass on fire!”

Maman watches him go with a worried frown, then tilts her head toward me. “Tell anybody what ?”

I hesitate, wracking my brain for how even to begin as I finally detangle my thoughts enough to remember what’s important. My heart is still somewhere in that hospital room with her, tangled in the wires, bruises, and that damn soft voice I can’t stop hearing in my head.

“He’s a she,” I say finally. “My Petit is… a Petite .”

Even though I’ve said it to myself repeatedly since leaving my heart behind, it still lands heavily to say the words out loud.

“She disguised herself to race,” I explain, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t know all the reasons yet. I have no idea what’s going on, really.”

I glance down, half expecting her to react, to gasp, or pull me into a lecture about my impulsive heart, but Maman simply squeezes my forearm.

“What’s her name?”

I look up cautiously. “You’re not freaking out?”

“Well, it’s unexpected, but Luc, I raised you. I’ve already seen every way a child can surprise a parent. You think this is going to shake me? ”

A laugh slips out of my mouth, a little cracked at the edges. “Fair.”

“Besides,” she adds, her smile softening, “I saw the way you act around him. Or her. That’s love, mon coeur , and I’ll always love who you love, no matter what.”

She really is some kind of sorceress. “How do you always know what to say?”

“It’s a mother thing.” She winks. “ Now , tell me her name.”

I hesitate for only a second before I say it, quietly but with a kind of awe I can’t hide. “Alaina.”

She nods slowly, almost reverently. “ Beautiful .”

“Yeah.” My stomach is squeezing as I watch the van disappear around the corner. “I guess the bi panic I called you about was for nothing. Sorry.”

“You know,” she says, her gaze following mine. “When you called and said you were confused, the first person I thought of was that handsome boy who just left.”

My head snaps toward her, and she pats my arm like she just handed me a cup of tea instead of a bomb. “Another mother thing. We just know stuff.”

I gape at her, words scrambling in my mouth like they’re running for cover, but before I can find a single one, she’s tugging my sleeve, towing me through the hospital doors.

“Come on,” she says brightly. “Let’s go see how our Alaina is.”

My head and heart are a riot of relief, confusion, and affection as I follow her inside.

I need to see Petite, to hear from her lips whether this thing between us, whatever the hell it is, is real.

And if it is, and she wants me to stay.

I can’t imagine I’ll ever leave.