Page 209 of Rogue Riders Duet

“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