Page 312 of Rogue Riders Duet

On the other seat, there’s his gear, a half-empty water bottle, and a crumpled hoodie. It definitely looks like he’s living in that thing.

Probably still leftovers from when we drove over from France. It’s not like Finn has ever been the tidiest person.

Not my business.

He pulls out his bright red BMX and a Bluetooth speaker. “Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward a trail that leads through the woods.

We arrive after a short, mostly silent walk. The BMX track is already buzzing with teenagers messing around, and a couple of kids wearing full-face helmets.

Luc bounces in place beside me like he’s about to explode, then deposits Toulouse into my palm. “Hold this. Emotional support sausage.”

I blink at him. “What?”

But he’s already snatching Finn’s bike. “You sure, Papi?”

“Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Luc grins like a devil and grabs Mason by the arm. “Come on, Pretty Boy, time to embarrass the youth of Italy.”

Mason groans but follows, and I take a few steps into the shade of a nearby tree and plop down onto the grass.

I watch them head toward the starting hill, already talking shit and bumping shoulders, while Toulouse nestles into my lap like a furry hot water bottle. Finn lowers onto the grass beside me, setting down the little speaker he brought from his car between us. A moment later, his usual music starts playing.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, at those arms I jumped into without thinking yesterday. A short-circuit of gratitude and adrenaline, but now I don’t know what to do with him sitting so close. I stroke Toulouse’s ears, but when I catch Finn glancing at me, too, he doesn’t say anything either.

Neither of us seems quite sure which version of ourselves we’re supposed to be now.

I let my gaze drift to Mason, who’s trying to race the BMX down the little rhythm section, laughing so hard he nearly wipes out.

That does something to me. Something powerful.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Finn glances over. “For what?”

“Everything. The finger guard, for getting Mason riding at his full potential. I don’t know. For showing up, keeping your word.”

He leans his head back against the tree trunk. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I don’t know what else to do,” I whisper. “You missed the race because of me.”

His head jerks back toward me, brows knitting. “Al.”

“You missed qualifying because you spent all your time fixing my grip and getting it approved, and they didn’t let you race. I ruined your last season. I’m⁠—”

“Stop.” His hand encircles my wrist, cutting me off mid-apology. “Al, please. Don’t feel guilty. You don’t have to. I’m not racing anymore.”

I blink at him, stunned. “What?”

He releases me and looks away. “I ended my career after Les Gets.”

“What?” My voice cracks. “No. Why? Because of me?”

“Not because of you. You didn’t pressure me. You didn’t make me feel anything but…” He sighs, shaking his head a little. “You gave me clarity. That’s it. I’ve wanted to stop for a while now.” He finally looks back at me then. “I just never had the guts.”

My heart pounds in my ears. “Finn, you don’t just end a career like that. Not in the middle of the season. Not when you’re still ranked top five⁠—”

“Oh, but I can,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And I have.”