Page 77 of Rogue Riders Duet

“There we go,” he murmurs, all smug satisfaction, and drops back into his seat, oblivious to the fact that he just rearranged my entire nervous system. He pops another one into his mouth, completely casual.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here with my pulse galloping and my cheeks burning like I’ve got a fever too. His fingers were just on my lips. His fingers. My lips.

Stunned, I try not to choke on the lozenge or acknowledge the fact that my entire body is on fire now.

“Drive, Al.” Finn chuckles, and I grip the wheel like it might keep me grounded.

Fuck.

I do what I’m told, and a few miles slip past in tense silence. Trees blur past the windows, and the engine hums. From the back, Dane coughs regularly, all wet, like his lungs are trying to turn themselves inside out, and the sound starts scraping along my nerves like sandpaper until I can’t take it anymore.

I slam the button to start up the radio, and a synth-heavy beat explodes through the speakers. It’s some god-awful techno track from one of Dane’s playlists.

“Ew.” Finn grimaces. “I thought Alaina taught you better than that.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue as Finn pulls out his phone. Apparently, it’s still connected from last time, because the display flickers and the music cuts out. “Better. What’s your favorite song?”

I only hesitate a beat before telling him, “ “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid,” The Offspring.”

He chuckles. “Figures.”

I turn my head to glare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He smirks. “Just… fits. But too bad, we’re listening to mine.”

“Pieces” by Sum 41 filters through the speakers, and it hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. I haven’t heard this song in seven years, exactly. I didn’t want to listen to it. Couldn’t. It hurt too fucking much. I meet his gaze in the mirror, just in time to see his smile fade.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, softer now.

I force a shrug. “I do.”

“You know… it was hard.”

I furrow my brow but keep my eyes on the road. “What was?”

“Losing my best friend.” His voice is rough around the edges now. “And… well, yeah, my best friend’s little sister, who also kind of felt like my best friend too. My family. It was just fucking lonely. On the road, during the season, even at home. It was just me and an empty phone, and I didn’t know whether she or Dane were okay. Or if I’d ever see either of them again.”

I don’t look at him. I can’t.

“I wanted to be there for them, both of them. I wanted to show up and help, but Dane shut me out.” I peek up at the mirror and find his serious, sad blue eyes pinned on me. “I wasn’t the one who left. I wanted to be there. You know that, right?”

I swallow hard and look back at the road before I do something fucking stupid. Like cry. Or hope.

I clear my throat and shift my voice lower. “Well, sure. I believe you. But it’s not like you need to explain that to me. I wasn’t there.”

There are a few beats of silence before he replies. “Sure. Anyway,” he starts with an audible sigh. “What I’m getting at is that people do stupid shit when they’re that lonely.”

That piques my interest. “What kind of stupid shit?”

Any insight into what has been going on with him all these years is welcome.

Silence stretches again, but it’s the kind that feels full of something rather than empty. I breathe in and realize the air in the bus has changed. The windows are slightly fogged, and the heater hums low, but it’s more than that. The whole place smells like him now, like sweet maple syrup and that warm, earthy something that always clung to him— fresh cedar and old sweatshirts. It’s stupid how much that grounds me. How my shoulders drop just a little, my grip on the wheel loosens, and I feel the ache in my chest pulse softer.

Like something homesick and tired just… exhales.

“Like almost marrying the wrong girl,” he mutters.

My foot slams onto the brake, and the bus jerks hard, tires squealing. Finn lurches forward with a grunt, and there’s a muffled thud from the back as Dane swears.