Page 212 of Rogue Riders Duet

The door swings open, and I’m met with elegance in a silk blouse and perfume that smells just as flowery as the outside of the house.

“Finn Greer, right?” The woman who looks a lot like Delacroix asks, tilting her head with a soft smile. “I’ve seen you on TV.”

I nod, trying not to fidget. “Yes, madame.”

“All the elite riders are such charming boys.” She smiles at me before opening the door more. “You can call me Élise. Come on in.”

I follow her inside, along polished floors and past flower arrangements, and the air smells like fresh coffee and something sweet baking in the oven. It would be welcoming and peaceful if dread weren’t churning inside me.

She leads me to the kitchen, and my bravery almost leaves me again when I find them all sitting at the kitchen table. Piper, perched sideways on a stool with one leg tucked under her. Fisher is next to her, leaning back in his chair, sipping on a protein shake. Dane is on Piper’s other side, coffee in one hand, the other playing with her hair, and Delacroix is planted beside Alaina, one hand on the back of her chair. His eyes flick up the second I step in, but mine go straight to her.

She’s wearing a pink hoodie that swallows her shoulders, hair damp and messy like she just let it air dry after a shower, and turned half away, picking at the rim of a mug. Her casted hand rests on the table, taped fingers curled in loosely.

“We have a guest,” Élise announces with a little flourish.

Dane turns from Piper and grins when he sees me, reaching out with a fist. “Hey, man. You good?”

“Sure.” I nod slowly and bump it, even though I feel anything but good. My gaze slides back to Alaina. “How are you feeling, Al?”

She shrugs without looking at me. “I’m fine.”

But she’s not. Anyone with eyes can see that. She’s paler than she should be, and her voice is flat, not cold, just dulled around the edges.

“Can we talk? Outside?” I swallow. “Please?”

Please let me apologize.

Luc is on his feet in a blink, planting himself between us like a wall. If she told him—hell, judging by the look on his face, she did—I don’t blame him. Not one bit.

But Alaina stands, too, placing her uninjured hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine.”

Luc’s jaw twitches, but he nods once and sits back down again.

Dane leans back in his chair with a sigh. “Yeah, go talk. I’m so over you two being weird.”

Alaina brushes past me, her steps quiet on the tiles, and I follow her out the door with my heart trying to thud out of my chest. We stop beside the rusty Crews’ bus, which stands there all dented, road-worn, and stubborn in the way it keeps surviving, just like her.

She doesn’t speak, and neither do I.

For a long breath, we just stand there in the gravel, silence stretching between us. I draw another breath and hold it, summoning whatever courage I’ve got left.

“I don’t even know where to start, Al. I miss you.”

“I’m as far away as you pushed me.” Her arms fold over her chest, but there’s a flicker of discomfort she tries to hide before she drops her hands to her side again.

Are her fingers bothering her?

“Just say what you have to say, Greer.”

Fuck. She hasn’t called me that in years. Not seriously.

Her lips are chapped like she’s been chewing on them all night, and there’s a bluish tint under her eyes. Her casted hand hangs awkwardly at her side now, and all I can think is, this is my fault. Every bruise. Every break. Every minute of that pain.

I was going to come in calm, own my shit, apologize like a man, but now I’m here and she looks like this, like I broke her in places I can’t even see, and it just…

“Fuck, I’m so damn sorry.” The words spill out, too fast. “I can’t, I don’t even know. I keep replaying it over and over. I can’t breathe when I think about it. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Shut up, Finn!” She cuts me off, and I go still.