Page 295 of Rogue Riders Duet

“What the fuck are you even saying?”

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “He compares riding styles to music.”

Luc raises an eyebrow, glancing between us. “What does that mean?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finn watching me, surprise flashing in his eyes like he didn’t think I’d remember.

But of course I do.

I remember everything about you, Finn Greer. Every note.

He clears his throat, starting slow. “Everyone rides with their own rhythm⁠—”

“Like a song,” I cut in without thinking, reciting words I’ve heard a hundred times before. “And if your flow feels off, it’s because you’re not on the right track. Not playing the right melody.”

Luc notices my shift in mood instantly. Without a word, he reaches over, grabs my hand, and places it on his knee, stroking slow circles with his thumb over my knuckles.

“I know it sounds nuts,” I continue. “But he’s helped a lot of people with it, especially juniors. I’ve seen riders shave two or three seconds off their times because of his advice. Myself included.”

“Merde, Papi.” Luc grins, eyes bright with intrigue. “What’s my song? I gotta know.”

Finn shrugs again, but his eyes stay on me like he’s still astonished I’m speaking this highly of him. “Smooth Criminal.”

Luc wrinkles his nose, clearly offended. “Michael Jackson?”

“No. Alien Ant Farm.”

“Fuck yes. That’s way more my jam.”

I snort, shaking my head. It does fit him.

“What’s Petite’s song?” Luc asks, obviously very interested in the answer, and I am too. I’d love to know whether Finn thinks it’s still the same song, even after all the years of training.

Finn’s eyes find mine, and the smallest smile tugs at his lips when he says softly, “ “Still Waiting,” Sum 41.”

Warmth fills my chest, and I have to remember to exhale.

Yes, still the same damn song.

And I love it.

Luc squeezes my hand when he laughs. “That’s so damn badass.”

Mason leans forward, catching Finn’s eye. “And you’re saying I’m too aggressive?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re riding angry. That can be good, but it’s not your flow. You’re not the angry type. You can still keep the aggression that makes you fast, but you have to let go of the anger.”

Mason’s jaw works as he thinks that over, but Finn is right. Mason is not angry, not at his core. The world forced that anger into him, turning him into something he isn’t.

Before Mason can say anything else, the gondola slows, creaking as it reaches the top. The doors slide open, letting in a gust of mountain air, and we spill out onto the platform.

I take a breath, relieved for fresh air and the space from everything inside that too-small cabin.

But then Finn touches my elbow. “Al, can I talk to you for a sec?”

I glance up into eyes that I know better than my own—my safe place until everything broke apart. “Sure.”

He steps away from the others, and I follow. His shoulders are tight, and his expression is carefully neutral when he speaks. “I think I can help Payne.”