average human’s Reviews > Twisted Trails > Status Update

Apparently noticing, Delacroix flips the heater on, and warm air blasts from the vents.
I hate it.
Not because it doesn’t feel good—it does—but because it’s too fucking nice of him.
I turn my head toward him once I’m warm enough to unlock my muscles, narrowing my eyes.
We don’t do nice, especially not since last year.
He reaches into the back seat and grabs something, tossing it at me without a word.
A worn hoodie.
I scowl, wanting to snap that I’m fine, and that I don’t need his damn charity, but the words die in my throat as I finally do more than just glance at him.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to Luc Delacroix.
Too long.
And goddammit, I hate how unfairly good-looking he is.
His sharp jaw, the too-pretty lips, that nose that’s somehow perfect and punchable at the same time. Those blue eyes, focused hard on the road, like he’s willing the hospital to appear faster. That ridiculous mullet should look like a joke, but somehow it works, in the same way the mustache shouldn’t be hot but is.
He’s a fucking menace wrapped in French charm and infuriatingly good hair.
And now that I’m letting myself, I can’t stop looking.
He’s wearing a hoodie the same as the one he threw at me, sleeves pushed up, tattooed forearms soaked and mud-streaked from his race, although he’s still in his filthy racing pants.
I hate to give in, but if I stay in this wet gear, I’ll either get sick or look like roadkill when we walk into the hospital.
They won’t let me near him like this.
I wrinkle my nose when my jersey clings to my skin, making a disgusting shlk as I pull it over my head, and then unbuckle the chest guard and toss both into the back seat.
It’s warm in here now, but goose bumps still erupt on my bare skin. Glancing sideways, I catch Luc staring at my chest before he snaps his gaze back to the road, pretending he didn’t just get caught.
A strange heat coils low in my stomach, but I shove it down, grinding my teeth as I yank the hoodie over my head.
It’s pink, because of course it is, and it smells like Luc-fucking-Delacroix—sunscreen, lavender, and mischief. I scowl harder, even as I burrow inside the stupidly soft fabric.
It’s the coziest thing I’ve worn in years, and that pisses me off even more.
I cross my arms and glare out the window. “Shouldn’t you be on the podium with all your adoring fans after winning on your home turf? I don’t get why you’re hauling my ass around like I’m some wet stray.”
Luc snorts. “You took second, so you should be on that podium too.”
“I’ve got better places to be.”
“Same,” Luc mutters.
My anger dies out as I watch the road, trying my best not to think about the shot of that wheel spinning.
Fuck, Bambi. Please be all right.
I glance at him, then scan the inside of the van again. “Where’d this rig even come from?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Team van. Figured the win’s a good enough excuse for stealing it.”
I huff a laugh despite myself because, of course. He’s a cocky bastard to the core, but when I see how the rain has pooled on the streets, I know I owe him for this.
Riding there on my bike would’ve been suicide.
I shudder at the thought, and Luc flicks on my seat heater. The warmth bleeds into my thighs and lower back within seconds, and I hate how good it feels, how comforting.
Just like the fucking hoodie.
I look at him for the hundredth time today. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
“This.” I gesture vaguely toward the heat, the hoodie, the driving. “Being decent to me.”
Luc’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “I’m not being decent to you. I’m being decent to Petit. He likes you, for whatever-fucking-reason, so I’m making sure he doesn’t get to cuss me out for letting you freeze to death in the mud.”
I scoff and sink deeper into the hoodie. Mini Crews cried in my arms yesterday because of this fucker, and yet…
“And let’s not forget…” he mutters bitterly, “… you were the one fucking everything up. I didn’t ruin this.”
My head snaps around. “Ex-fucking-scuse me? You are the one who treats me like absolute shit.”
“Because you ruined everything,” he grits back, his blue eyes flaring.
I stare at him, pulse climbing again for a whole different reason. “What the fuck did I ruin?”
“You know exactly what’s ruined.”
I do.
Still doesn’t mean it was me who ruined it.
I stay quiet because what the hell am I supposed to say to that? That I miss what we had, too, when it wasn’t even anything?
Luc huffs, as if my silence confirms everything he hates. “I’m talking about our dynamic, Payne. That tension, that thing we had on the track? I lost some of my magic because you and I aren’t the same anymore. And I fucking hate you for it.”
“Don’t act like that,” I snap. “We weren’t even friends. We⁠—”
“Putain, I know that!” Luc explodes, cutting me off with a swipe of his hand. “I fucking know we weren’t friends, but you and your goddamn smirks, your scowls, the way you teased with your eyes, I don’t even know why, but it made me faster, okay? It made me hungry. You made me want to beat you.”
You made me want to do a hell of a lot more than beat you.
My gaze snaps away from his flushed cheeks at the unwelcome thought.
What the fuck?
I always knew Luc was hot, the kind of hot that made your mouth go dry and your pulse tick up, but I filed it away as trivial. Background noise. Just something to clock, not act on, because he was Luc-fucking-Delacroix. He is loud, cocky, and surrounded by women like they were just another sport.
And definitely straight.
That banter between us, the smirks, the sharp words, the eye contact that always lasted a second too long. I figured it was just a byproduct of our rivalry, something to keep us hungry. And it was, but maybe it was also me, flaring like a live wire around him, and throwing jabs to see what he’d throw back, not because I hated him, but because I wanted his attention.
And he gave it to me.
Over and over, he reacted. He looked.
Until last year.
“You’re a fucking asshole, and a coward. And a—” He cuts himself off, but the next word still comes out as a bloody bullet. “Rapist? Really, Mason?”
It doesn’t matter how many times I hear that word, whether it’s whispered, yelled, or spat in my direction, it always lands as a punch to the ribs.
Luc’s breathing is harsh beside me. “You look like a fucking Greek god,” he spits. “You could have anyone, but you go and take what’s not offered? Are you insane?”
“I’m not a fucking rapist!” The words rip from me, raw but crystal-clear.
Luc’s anger burns out, and he sighs like the idea of me being innocent is more tiring than the alternative.
“Everybody else says you are.”
“Yeah?” My hands curl into fists in my lap, nails biting deep into my palms like maybe if I bleed for it, it’ll be enough, and the pain will be penance for something I didn’t even do. “Well, it’s not my fucking problem if you’d rather believe everybody else than me. Just because there are rumors doesn’t make them true. Do you really think your precious Petit would hang out with me if he believed I was a rapist?”
This just proves that I could scream until my throat tears open, and it still wouldn’t make a difference, not unless someone wants to believe me.
And Luc?
Luc never wanted to.
His brow furrows like he’s considering it. “Then where are those rumors coming from?”
The fight leaves me then, too, and I just give him the truth, voice flat. “I have no idea why she said it. Crews thinks maybe Raine wanted me gone. I don’t know. I’ve stopped pretending to understand any of it.”
“She was your girlfriend,” Luc counters, like that proves something.
“Exactly,” I bite out, anger boiling over again that quickly. “As if I’d force myself on my own girlfriend! I wouldn’t do that to anyone, but especially not to someone I thought I was in love with.”
My breath is just as ragged as Luc’s is now, and I try to calm down and find the thread of reason, but it’s gone. There’s no reasoning with him. Maybe there never was. But it seems some part of me wants to be heard, so I keep going.
“I needed you just as much as you needed me to bring my best game, maybe more, but I would have never believed something like that about you without talking to you first. Without asking.”
That’s the part that’s been killing me.
He never asked me whether the rumors were true. He just started hating me like everyone else.
And I never thought he was like anyone else until then.
Luc scans my face, but then he turns away again, fixing his eyes back on the road.
We drive the last stretch in tense silence, and my stomach clenches when we pull into the parking lot. Our clothes drip and shoes squelch as we jog to the hospital doors. As soon as we’re inside, Luc steps up to the reception desk and launches into rapid-fire French. I don’t understand shit, only catching him saying Allen Crews, and my stomach twists all over again.
The receptionist frowns down at the papers in front of her, lips moving around words I don’t understand, then finally says, “Oui, Crews,” followed by more in French that might as well be static.
Bambi.
Something is stirring in my ribs again, the feeling close to that of butterflies being drowned in worry, and I should probably figure out what the hell that means, but not now. Not yet.
Not until I know he’s okay.
Luc turns to me. “Petit’s already here. She said we should go to the waiting room.”
That’s not good enough.
I shoulder past Luc to the receptionist. “How is he?”
She glances up, brows furrowing before she answers in broken English. “I cannot tell you. Please wait with family.”
Luc doesn’t give me a chance to lose my shit. “Come on,” he mutters, grabbing my arm and steering me away. “I know my way around here.”
“You’ve been here before?”
Luc shrugs and releases my arm as we walk. “I was a regular guest here all my childhood.”
“Falling off your bike?”
He grins. “Bikes, trees, houses.”
“Houses?”
Luc just winks, and goddammit, my heart stutters like the idiot it is.
We round a corner, and Luc stops outside a waiting room, eyebrows shooting up at the raised voices coming from within.
Dane and Greer have their backs to us, and Greer is standing statue-still with his arms crossed tight over his chest, shoulders hunched, teeth chattering loudly enough that I can hear them from across the room.
“What did they say?” Dane’s signature Crews intensity is locked in, drilling into Finn like he’s trying to extract the truth by force. “Why didn’t you call soo⁠—”
“How is he?” Luc asks, cutting Dane off as he steps into the room.
I follow right behind him.
Dane turns around and glares at us. “What the fuck are you two idiots doing here?”
Luc just crosses his arms over his chest. “I asked you a question.”
“I don’t fucking know. I just got here too,” Dane snaps, jerking his chin toward Greer. “Finn flew in with Al.”
My head whips toward Greer. He had already finished his race, so how the hell did he get back up the mountain that fast?
What the fuck?
A nurse steps into the room, clipboard in hand, eyes sweeping across the four of us. “For Crews?”
“Yes.” Dane stomps toward her.
The nurse’s eyes widen as she takes him in, and then the rest of us.
“Who’s family?”
Finn steps up beside Dane without hesitation, but Dane doesn’t spare him a glance as he says, “I’m Dane Crews. I’m her brother.”
Her?
“Is there news?”
Brother.

Suddenly, I’m not standing in the sterile, too-bright waiting room. I’m back at yesterday in that pocket of trees where Mini Crews cried into my shoulder, telling me Greer acts like a second big brother.
The nurse shakes her head. “That would be for the doctor to tell you, but your sister is awake. You can go to her room now, and the doctor will meet you there.”
“Your sister?” Luc hisses at Dane.
It hits me hard all at once. The realization is like a freight train to the skull.
Weeks of moments collide into something new in the span of seconds.
Dane Crews’ sister.
Allen. Al.
Alaina.
Every inch of my body goes still and cold, everything inside me crashing and malfunctioning as the realization slams through me.
The short kid with a strange voice that never quite fit the bravado. Too-long lashes, wide brown eyes, that impossibly pretty face that always looked like it belonged somewhere gentler than this brutal sport. The way he flinched when I got too close, the tension in his body when my hand got near his chest.
His obsession over his bike, trusting me with his pain before I even earned it, and looking at me like I wasn’t poison.
That kid.
Alaina.
She’s a girl. A Crews. That Crews.
It’s a sickening kind of clarity when it all slots together.
The crash.
Her crash.
The one that ended her career and erased her from the circuit.
I never put it together, not even with her face, her pain, right in front of me.
Now I can’t stop seeing it.
The fierce way she rode, like every second on that track was a fight for her right to be there. The way she made the bike dance under her like it was part of her body. That riding style—reckless, fearless, too beautiful to be real.
And I didn’t see it.
I ignored every weird feeling because I wanted to be around her so badly to have her kindness and friendship.
My knees almost buckle.
How could I have been so blind?
“Somebody talk the fuck now! Did she just say sister?” Luc bellows, loud enough to snap me out of my trance.
“Go,” Greer tells Dane. “I’ll take care of this.” Dane looks a little pale around the nose, but nods at him before he leaves with the nurse. Luc steps forward to follow, but Greer blocks him. “No. We have to talk about this first.”
Luc clenches his fists, and I’m still just standing there, staring at the spot where Dane disappeared, everything in me burning with the weight of what I just realized.
“Sister?” Luc snarls.
“Calm the fuck down, Delacroix,” Greer says, unflinching.
“Non.” Luc shakes his head, his voice rising. “Tell me what the fuck is going on here, or I’ll go and find out myself.”
“This is all…” Greer pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he’s aged ten years in thirty seconds. “This is so fucking secret, okay? If you like her as much as you always say you do, you’ll keep your damn mouth shut.”
I finally find my voice. “It’s Alaina?”
Luc whips toward me, but I don’t look at him as Greer nods slowly, watching me for a reaction, bracing for impact.
Inside, I’m screaming, spiraling, and probably close to bleeding out. Outside, I give him nothing.
Because the guy I’ve been obsessing over, my only real friend after I swore I wouldn’t trust anyone again, lied to me for weeks.
Lied to my face.
Knowing that my entire life was fucked by a lie.
“Alaina?” Luc says her name like he’s trying to make sense of it, to see how it feels around his mouth. “That’s her name?”
“Alaina Crews,” I say quietly.
The girl I never talked to all those years ago but always watched too much.
Greer crosses his arms and looks between us. “You guys have to keep it quiet.”
“And why is that? Give us something here, Papi,” Luc says, blowing up again. “Why is she lying?”
“She’s not lying, she’s⁠—”
“Fuck this!” Luc shoves Greer out of the way and charges past him into the hallway.
I don’t think as I follow right after him, because yeah, fuck this.

6%

“I am loose.” I huff, sitting up straighter. It’s fun riding with him out here, but it also makes me sad again. “I want to come ride with you.”
Dane slows down, coasting next to me. “You are riding with me.”
“No.” I pout. “I mean with you. On the World Cup.”
He snorts. “You’re six.”
“You’re sixteen,” I shoot back, like that proves something. I’m not even sure what.
He laughs that loud Dane laugh that always makes my stomach feel warm, but then it fades, and his face does that thing where he tries to look all grown up.
“I have to leave next week. You know that.”
“I know,” I grumble, kicking at the sidewalk. “But I don’t want to be home all summer. Just me and…” I wrinkle my nose, “… the nanny.”
“We like the nanny,” Dane counters.
“We do…” I admit, “… but I don’t wanna be with her all the time. I wanna be with you.”
My lip trembles, and I try hard not to let it, but Dane sees it immediately. His whole face softens, and he gets off his bike and sets it down next to us before he crouches down in front of me.
“What if I talk to Dad? Ask if he can fly you and Sabine to Europe during your school break? You could come watch me race.”
My breath catches. “You think he’d say yes?”
He huffs. “Of course he would.”
Dane is probably right. Dad doesn’t care where we are as long as Sabine is with us.
I nod quickly. “Okay!”
“But…” Dane lifts a finger, like this is very serious business, “… you have to train while I’m not here. Ride your bike all the time, so when you’re old enough, you can come on the circuit with me.”
My heart jumps. “For real?”
“For real.” He smiles. “But you have to be good enough.”
“I am good enough! I can come now.”
Dane chuckles. “There are no races for six-year-olds.”
I pout again, my lower lip sticking out on purpose now.
He laughs and pats my helmet. “I’ll get you on my team. Dad already promised me that when I make it to elite, he’ll get me one. Crews Racing.”
“It’ll be our team,” I say proudly.
“Only if you’re good enough,” he teases, bumping my bike with his knee.
“Then watch this.” I grin and push off hard, pedaling down the sidewalk with one hand in the air. “No hands!” I yell, even though technically one is still there.
Dane claps behind me. “Good job!”
But I’m not done.
“I’m gonna be the best racer you’ve ever seen!” I shout, and then I just do it. I lift both hands, laughing as I roll forward.
“Alaina, no… wait! You can’t go over the speed…”
The speed bump launches me into the air before I hit the ground hard, and pain shoots through my arm so fast, I don’t even have time to scream.
It looks wrong when I sit up, like my arm is shaped weirdly.
Dane is running toward me in seconds, eyes wide. “Shit. Shit, no… fuck.”
I want to tell him that Sabine doesn’t like him using those words, but my arm hurts too badly.
He drops to his knees beside me. “Let me see.” He looks at my arm and curses again, his face going a little pale. “It’s broken. Okay. Okay, you’re okay.”
I start crying then—not just because it hurts, which it does—but because I was flying a second ago, and now I’m broken. And because Dane is leaving, and I can’t go with him, and this whole summer is already ruined.
“Hold on tight, okay?” His arms come around me, lifting me with him when he stands. “I’ve got you.”
I’m crying too hard to see, and my arm feels like it’s on fire, so I tuck my face into Dane’s collarbone and sob into his shirt, but he’s right, even if everything hurts and I did something stupid and he’s leaving soon⁠—
I know Dane has got me.
He always does.
I blink down at my left hand, at the cast that triggered the memory.
Two fingers—my pinky and ring—are taped together in said neat little cast, like they’re besties. Apparently, I broke them. Which… cool. Another stamp on the frequent flyer card of my medical record.
I crashed into the tree hand first, trying to stop the damn fall, before my head joined the party and slammed into the trunk too. Thank fuck I was wearing a helmet.
But yeah, trees?
We’re done.
Tree-huggers don’t know shit. I’m officially a tree-hater. A bark-phobe. A foliage foe. If I see one more pine needle, I’m going to scream.
I lean my head back against the pillow and sigh when my vision swims.
God, what the hell did they give me?
Everything is so woozy, but I feel incredible.
This is next-level, no-pain, floating-on-a-dream kind of good. My fingers don’t hurt, my hip doesn’t hurt, hell, my soul doesn’t even hurt, and let’s be real, I was in a mood before I hit the damn tree.
Is this what life feels like when your body isn’t a walking disaster?
Because, damn, sign me up.
Okay, maybe I feel a little too groggy for this to be normal. My thoughts are slippery, catching a train of thought feels like trying to hold Jell-O with chopsticks, but I’d still take this over pain any day.
When I woke up earlier, I was in a helicopter for the second time in my life, which feels like way too many times for someone who doesn’t even like flying.
Finn was there, crouched beside me, hand on my shoulder, his face a mess of mud and tears, muttering I’m sorry, baby girl, like it was the only sentence he remembered how to say. He looked like hell, beautiful, tragic hell, and he was stroking me in comfort.
But I couldn’t deal with any of it.
My fingers were screaming, my hip was howling, and my head felt like it had been launched into a brick wall and left there to marinate.
Now though?
Now everything is quiet. Floaty. My body feels like a cloud, and I’ve got nothing but time to think about how Finn gave me everything I ever wanted, every word I’d ever dreamed of hearing from him, and then yanked it all out from under me like a magician pulling a tablecloth. Except, instead of leaving the plates standing, he smashed them and then tap-danced on the shards.
Now that I’m thinking about it, my chest aches, just a little twist beneath the floaty fog. My fingers don’t hurt, my hip doesn’t hurt, my head feels like a balloon tied to a string, but my heart? Yeah, that traitor is still ticking.
Nope. Not doing this then, not thinking about Finn. Not when I feel this good and the medication has turned my bones into cotton candy. This high is too perfect to waste on that mean, beautiful, emotionally constipated man.
No crying, no spiraling, just floating. My thoughts are clouds, and I’m lying face-down on them, kicking my feet in the air.
But then the door slams open, and in storms Luc-fucking-Delacroix.
The other beautiful man who makes my heart tick in weird, complicated rhythms.
God, even angry, he looks unfair. Wet curls are pushed back from his forehead like a French shampoo commercial, his hoodie clings to his shoulders, and his racing pants are still streaked with mud.
Why does rage look good on him?
That’s not a normal thing.
That’s not a healthy thing.
And my brain, which is floating on prescription cotton candy, decides to remind me exactly how good his mouth feels on mine.
Jesus.
I am not equipped for this level of sexy right now. If he says one nice thing to me, I might take off my top. Not because I mean to. It’s just a reflex. Instinct. Whatever.
Mason walks in right after him, wearing pink. It’s Luc’s hoodie. The sleeves are too long on him, but it still works. Why does that work?
I swear, he could wear a garbage bag, and my hormones would still throw a party.
Two beautiful disasters in one room, one that I’ve kissed, and the other I’d like to kiss very much.
Wait, what if they kissed?
Each other.
What if Luc grabbed Mason by the front of that pink hoodie and yanked him close, all angry and growly, that stupid sexy mullet flopping just right, and Mason just smirked, all cocky, and leaned in like he’s been waiting for it?
And then they kissed like they hated each other and wanted each other in the same breath.
Oh my God, I think my boxers just got wet.
Wait, am I still wearing boxers? Did they undress me and find my socks?
I should probably check, but I can’t take my eyes off them.
Because what if, after that kiss, they both turned to me as if they’d just come to a very mutual, very filthy agreement.
And then they kissed me.
At the same time, with their hands on my thighs, lips on my neck, one of them behind me, the other in front, and all I can feel is that spark that lives under my skin whenever I’m around them.
That hum that says yes, this, more.
I don’t even know whose hands are where in this completely made-up, wildly inappropriate fantasy, but I do know I’m not complaining.
Honestly, if someone in this room doesn’t start kissing someone in the next sixty seconds, I might cry.
“You guys are so pretty.” I sigh. “I want you to kiss.”
Mason snorts, and Luc’s scowl morphs into a slow grin that makes my stomach flutter in ways I’m definitely too medicated to process responsibly.
“She’s all groggy,” Finn explains from somewhere near the door, and I blink over to see him standing beside Dane, arms folded, expression somewhere between amused and worried. “She broke two fingers and has a concussion. They hooked her up with Dilaudid in the helicopter.”
More like fairy dust.
I look at Finn and take him in from head to toe. Even though he’s a mess, he’s just as hot as the other two. “I don’t want you to kiss them, though. You’re just for me.”
He smiles a sad smile, and something in my chest aches.
Why is he sad?
Dane walks over to me, shaking his head with a laugh, before brushing his palm lightly over my messy hair. “You’re gonna hate yourself when you’re off the meds, Speedbump.”
Maybe.
The nurse chuckles as she steps up and adjusts the IV. “All right. We’ll tone it down a little before you start making real trouble.”
I pout at her, even as the fog begins to clear just a little, and she leaves, promising to grab the doctor.
Dane stays by my side and strokes my hair again, gentler now. “How are you feeling, Alaina?”
I press a finger of my good hand to my lips and whisper, “Shh. They don’t know.”
Luc snorts from where he and Mason are still standing close together, practically shoulder to shoulder. I look over, narrowing my eyes, because dammit, Mason looks adorable in Luc’s hoodie with his arms crossed.
“Seriously,” I say, pointing between them. “You guys should kiss.”
They don’t.
“Fine,” I sigh dramatically. “Then somebody kiss me because there is tension in this room, and I need a kiss to happen.”
Dane huffs a laugh, stepping back as Luc raises an eyebrow, strolls over to the other side of my bed, and leans in to press a quick, teasing kiss to my lips.
I whine. “That’s it?”
“You’ll get more when you explain yourself,” he says with a low chuckle, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead. He picks up my left arm gingerly, looking down at the fingers in the cast, then back up at my face, softer now. “How are you feeling?”
He’s so close, too close, and somewhere in my woozy brain, I remember that he can’t know that I have tits, and that I shouldn’t sound like this.
Shit.
I pull the blanket up over my chest with my good hand and deepen my voice, but it comes out way too deep. “I’m fine.”
Mason huffs from the doorway. “You can drop the shit, Alaina.”
I freeze.
They know?
Something in me twists, panic maybe or the edges of it? I’m too foggy to really sort it out, but it sits there under my ribs like a warning.
I look up at Luc, and he meets my eyes, all calm and unbothered, and then he leans in to kiss my temple, whispering, “We’re gonna have words about this, ma Petite.”
Some of that panic eases because he’s still calling me that, but then it hits again, because they know my secret.

Oh God.
My eyes flick to Mason, only to find him glaring at me. Not with that playful little scowl he throws at me when he thinks I’m being weird. This one is sharp, cold, the one he gives the rest of the world, but now it’s aimed at me.
“Why did you lie to me?”
I flinch at the tone, that hurt tone, wrapped in anger, and my mouth opens before I can think. “I didn’t lie to you, I⁠—”
“You did!” he cuts me off, stepping forward. “You did. You made me trust you. You were there, you said you were my friend, and I let you in. I told you shit I’ve never told anyone, and the whole time, you were lying about who you were.”
“Mason,” I whisper, and my voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”
I am. God, I am.
I know this is wrong, and I messed up. I can feel it in every part of my body now that the fog is starting to lift, even though everything still feels slow and sticky, like I’m wading through molasses.
“No,” he snaps. “You’re a fucking liar.”
“Enough.” Luc is suddenly on his feet, stepping between us like a shield. “Stop yelling at her like that. She’s on meds, she’s not thinking right. You need to yell, Payne? Yell at me.”
“Oh yeah?” Mason growls. “How about you use your fucking brain for once, Delacroix?”
Luc recoils slightly, offended and visibly pissed.
“She lied to us for weeks,” Mason goes on. “She was there, every day, acting like she was real and cute and my friend, and all she did was lie.”
“She didn’t lie to us, idiot,” Luc fires back. “She lied to the UCI, and she will tell us why that is.” He glances over his shoulder at me, sharp and pointed, like you better, before turning back to Mason. “But she was real with me. Yeah, maybe she didn’t tell us she doesn’t have a dick and gave me a full-blown sexuality crisis⁠—”
Dane snorts beside me.
Luc doesn’t let up. “We’re gonna talk this shit out. We can talk it out, but don’t pretend she was fake.” He turns back to me, eyes locked on mine. “You were real to me, right, Petite?”
I nod, fast, and the tears come with it, burning in my eyes. “Yes.”
He believes me. Even though everything else is a mess, he still believes that. But the medication is wearing off more by the second, and the fog is thinning, while the pressure is building. I can see the disaster for what it is now.
Mason’s face, the betrayal in it.
I look at him, my voice shaking. “He’s right, I was always real to you too. The only thing I lied about was⁠—”
“What?” Mason snaps. “Your name? Your age? Your gender? Your backstory? Probably that you were on my side too. What was the agenda here, huh? Why’d you worm your way in? To make me feel something only to fuck me over? You’re just as bad as her.”
My blood freezes in my veins, and I sit up straighter, even though my head is starting to throb.
“No,” I breathe out. “That’s not true. I’m on your side. I’ve always been on your side, Mason. I’m your nobody.”
A spike of hurt flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone just as fast, walled off behind that same dead-cold mask he wears with everyone else.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, stepping back. “Looks like you’re gonna survive.” Then he turns, biting out, “I’m going back.”
“And how the fuck do you think you’re getting there, Pretty Boy?” Luc asks, making Mason freeze.
“Stop calling me that,” he spits, spinning around. “I’m so done with this shit. Fuck you. Fuck her. Fuck everyone. I’m walking if I have to.”
“Fuck everyone, yeah?” Luc surges forward right up in Mason’s face.
“Hey, hey, hey…” Dane’s voice cuts through the tension as he steps away from my side, moving fast to get between them, but Finn is already there, grabbing Mason’s arm and yanking him back.
Dane catches Luc by the shoulder, pushing him hard, then Mason shrugs Finn off and shoves back.
Luc yanks free of Dane just as Finn snaps, “Get the fuck out of here. Both of you. You wanna fight? Do it outside. Get your shit together before you come back in.”
He drives them out of the room like a bouncer with zero patience, and the door slams behind them with a final, echoing thud.
The silence after is sharp, and the fog in my head lifts another inch, peeled back by the shock of their yelling, of Mason yelling at Luc, at me.
No soft cotton left to fall into, just dread. The hurt hasn’t settled back in yet, but my heart knows what’s coming. It tightens in my chest, and beneath that, rising fast, is nausea.
Fuck.
Fuck, what did I do?
“Baby girl.” Finn turns to me, voice too soft for how guilty he’s looking. “I’m so sorry.” His eyes flick to Dane’s, and just like that, it all floods back.
The gondola, the way he held me—touched me—like I was something beautiful. The way he looked at me, like he wanted me, maybe even loved me. But the second he saw the blood and realized how inexperienced I am, everything in his face shifted, and I stopped being a person and became a problem.
A regret, back to being a mistake.
But what did I think would happen? The last few weeks with Finn have been a flame that flares hot one second and leaves frostbite the next, and right now, I’m not sure which one I’m burning from more.
The nausea spikes hard, curling in my gut. I can’t do this, not here in front of Dane. I can’t hear Finn say it out loud, say it was a mistake again. I can’t survive that.
“Get out,” I tell Finn, and my voice cracks, along with everything inside me.
Finn and Dane both go still.
“Alaina.” Dane looks confused. “What are you even⁠—”
“No.” I shake my head, harder now. “I need him gone, please.”
“Al, come on.” Dane takes a step closer. “That’s Finn. You’re woozy from the meds, it’s fine. You want him here.”
I turn my face away. “No. I want him out.”
A pause, then Finn says softly, “No worries. Absolutely. I’ll just wait outside, okay?”
I hear the door open and close, giving a quiet click that sounds a little too final, like something breaking.
Dane steps closer again, his brows pulled together. “What was that? Just because he kicked your little boyfriends out? They were acting like fucking kids.”
“No,” I whisper. My throat is raw. “He just…”
What can I even tell him?
That he hurt me?
That he made me hope, really hope, that maybe I could have something good and safe for once, only to rip it out from under me the second things got real?
That nothing has ever broken me this way before, not even the crash that almost ended my life?
“He made me mad,” I finish weakly.
“What?” Dane lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Why? He was the first one at your side, Alaina. Finn was with you in the helicopter and next to you every second they would let him. He talked the UCI out of following and finding out your secret. He was there for you. He doesn’t deserve you acting like that.” His voice softens. “If you want to act out, act out on me. I’m the one who wasn’t fast enough to be there.”
My chest aches, and I blink back tears.
“You’re never the problem,” I whisper. “I’m the problem.”
Dane sighs and shakes his head. “Sure as hell looks like it right now.” But it’s not cruel. Just soft, sad. His hand ruffles over my hair like I’m still six years old, and I haven’t made a total wreck of everything.
“Calmed down a little?” he asks, after watching me carefully for a few moments. “I can go grab him. I don’t even think you have to apologize, and he’s definitely not mad about you calling him yours.”
Fuck, I did say that, didn’t I?
I want to scream, cry, or throw up.
“No,” I choke out, the nausea crashing over me again. “Please, I feel sick. Can you call a nurse?”
Dane studies me for a long moment before finally nodding. “Of course.” He leans over and presses the call button, but his other hand stays right where it is, resting gently on the top of my head.
“Don’t think for a second I’m buying your bullshit, though,” he murmurs.
And then the room is still again, except for the storm in my chest.