Page 58 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

I cross my arms like a shield and tilt up my chin, holding back the burn that’s already clawing behind my eyes again. I’m not even sure why. “I’m fine.”

Finn tilts his head and takes a single step forward. “ Baby girl .”

And somehow, that’s it.

The last fucking straw.

The tears that have been choking me finally break loose, and a horrible sound escapes my throat with them. I can’t see him move through the blur, but I feel it when Finn wraps me in his arms .

“I know it doesn’t mean shit right now…” he murmurs into my hair, “… but you were so fucking good out there. You were riding with the best in the world, the most talented men in the elite league, and you made them sweat all damn season. You would’ve crushed Raine if it weren’t for your hand.

This is not your fault. It’s mine . You broke your fingers because of me.

You crashed because of me. Don’t be mad at yourself for not winning.

If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. ”

I tighten my grip on his shirt and tug him even closer, shaking my head against his chest. “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

His arms tighten around me before he pulls back enough to see my face. “You’re not?”

I shake my head again, fresh tears slipping down my cheeks. “No.”

His eyes widen before they soften, his shoulders slumping. “Come on.”

He takes my hand and leads me down the short hall into the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re gonna wash off the dirt,” he says simply, opening the cabinet and grabbing two towels.

“Then we’re gonna take an hour or two, curl up on the couch, and mourn the hell out of that loss.

When we’re done, we’re putting your brave face back on and finishing the season.

Allen Crews gets the ending he deserves, the ending you deserve.

The one past Alaina trained for years to earn. ”

I stare as he pulls his hoodie off, then his shirt, stripping down to red boxers that make me snort a little despite myself.

These men and their signature colors.

“Nice undies. ”

He flashes me a look. “You’re lucky I didn’t go with hearts.”

The easy amusement relaxes me, and the way he helps me undress like it’s no big deal—not even batting an eye over Pierre—does me even more good.

His careful hands ease the binder from my torso with more reverence than it probably deserves, and when I’m finally naked in front of him, he doesn’t look away, but he doesn’t leer, either.

He looks me in the eyes. Only the eyes.

“Ready?”

I nod, and he steps into the shower and adjusts the temperature before holding out a hand for me.

It’s not like the shower I had with Luc.

There’s no heat here. No edge. Just soft fingers in my hair and the occasional murmured check-in, like when he rinses shampoo from my scalp.

He holds my bad hand out of the way without needing to be told, and cleans every inch of me like I’m precious, even when I feel like roadkill.

When we’re done and the steam has soaked through my skin and my head is light, I start crying again. He holds me against his bare chest, cooing soothing words as the water runs over both of us.

Eventually, he shuts the water off and wraps me in a towel, gently patting me dry like I might crack more if he presses too hard.

He disappears briefly and returns with sweatpants, boxers, and one of his old T-shirts.

They all smell like detergent, but a little like him too.

He dresses me in his clothes without a word, and when he pulls the way-too-big shirt over my head, I catch the name stitched on the collar from some old youth race team.

Greer.

Seventeen-year-old Alaina would’ve passed out from sheer glee.

Twenty-four-year-old me is trying not to crumble .

He gets dressed and takes my hand again, tugging me into the living room toward the couch.

“Come on. Time to grieve and snack in that order.”

He lies back and tugs until I’m stretched out on top of him, my cheek resting against his chest, my legs tangled with his. He strokes up and down my back in slow, steady sweeps, holding me close with an arm wrapped tight around my waist.

I don’t have any tears left, but the ache still lingers with the throb of a healing bruise.

Finn doesn’t say anything as he holds me, like he knows there’s nothing to fix, only to help me carry. I lie there for a long time, listening to his heartbeat, and letting the weight of everything drain out of me, until I melt against him completely.

Eventually, my thoughts slow enough to let one rise to the surface.

“You mean it?” My voice is barely a whisper as I push up to see his face.

His brow pulls together as he brushes a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “Mean what, baby girl?”

“That you love me.”

His mouth curves into the grin I can never get enough of. “Yeah.” I hold my breath as his eyes warm into adoration. “ I love you , Alaina.”

I’m too warm, my insides too tight, but my mind is too dizzy as the words wash over me. I search his face because part of me still doesn’t believe that I can have this, have him, and still have the others too. “Even if I’m with Luc and Mason?”

“I figured out that love means wanting the best for the person you love, no matter what it looks like. And I’ve seen enough to know that they are the best for you, just like I hope I still am too.

So yeah. I’m okay with it.” His smile turns teasing.

“Also, if my watching them fuck you wasn’t enough to show you that I’m fine with it?—”

I slap a hand over his mouth and let out a laugh, cheeks heating. “Shut up. ”

He grins against my palm, and his eyes sparkle with the kind of light that’s been missing for too long. I let my hand fall away, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.

The air stills, and the light in his eyes changes, humor softening into something else. “Please give me a chance and love me again. One last time.”

My breath catches, and for once, there’s nothing between us. No guilt, no jokes, no need to deflect, so I tell him my truth.

“I never stopped. Once I fell for you ten years ago, Finn Greer, I never stopped loving you.”

I can practically watch how relief floods his body before he kisses me slowly, so slowly. My mouth. My cheek. The bridge of my nose. My eyelids.

His lips are warm as they find mine again, his hands steady as they cradle my jaw. Weeks of almosts, what-ifs, and aching hope finally find solid ground.

He’s exceedingly soft with me, so different from when we were in the gondola. Nothing is rushed or frantic.

This feels like worship.

“I missed you,” he says on a breath, brushing another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“God, Al… I missed you so much.” I tangle my fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer.

He doesn’t resist, just keeps kissing my face like he’s trying to memorize every part of it.

“I hate myself for not loving you the way you deserved before. I’m gonna love the shit out of you now.

You can feel safe being happy with me, I promise. ”

I let out a shaky breath that almost turns into a laugh, but he presses his lips to me again, sure and exploring, before pulling back.

“I told my parents about us, so I’m sorry for whatever my mom whispered in your ear earlier.” He kisses the corner of my jaw, then the hollow beneath my ear.

The fingers of my good hand glide into his hair, and I cling to him like maybe I can melt into him, fuse myself to the safe space that has always been him if I try hard enough. “You told them?”

“I did because I’m not ashamed of my love for you, and because I was never more sure about something.” Another kiss on my lips. “You wreck me, Alaina Crews, but I’d let you do it a thousand times if it means I get to love you.”

The second the words are out of his mouth, I surge forward and kiss him. I press my lips harder to his this time, to prove that I mean it too. He meets me there, kissing me back just as hard, and I push my chest down onto his.

I need to feel every inch of him, to press my body as close to his as it can be.

He exhales heavily before gripping the back of my neck while his other hand slides down to grab at my thigh like he can’t stand the distance between us anymore either.

As the kiss deepens, I brace my knees on either side of him and rock against him. Just one slow grind, but it makes his whole body arch.

“Fuck,” he groans against my mouth, and his fingers tighten on my thighs, anchoring me to him.

I do it again, slower, dragging myself across the growing bulge beneath his sweats, and he gasps into the kiss, his hands flexing, digging into my skin.

“Al…” he chokes out, voice strained.

“Yeah?” I whisper, dragging my lips across his jaw, sucking softly beneath his ear.

“You’re driving me insane. ”

“Good.”

It feels like payback.

His hips push up into mine, and then we’re grinding together, fully clothed, but it doesn’t matter.

I feel everything. The heat of him through the thin fabric, the way he hardens even more with every roll of my hips, pressing against me just right.

How I’m soaking through his boxers, needing more, needing him .

I imagined this way too many times as a teen, and it’s already better than every fantasy. My pussy throbs, swollen with the pleasure of feeling him.

His head tips back against the couch as we rub against each other, and I kiss along his throat and swivel my hips.

Or I try to.

Pain shoots through them, too abrupt to add to the pleasure, and I still.

Finn grips my chin and brings my gaze to his, but my eyes are scrunched shut as I breathe through the pain.

Instead of asking me what’s wrong, he brings my mouth back to his, dragging his teeth against my bottom lip, and I open for him without hesitation.

As our tongues meet in a messy kiss, Finn slowly moves us so we’re lying on our sides, facing each other.

The relief in my joints is instant, and I sigh into his kiss.

“ I love you .”