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“I don’t even know what I like anymore,” I whisper.

Christian doesn't miss a beat.

“That’s okay,” he says easily. “We’ll try shit. Books, music. Fucking rock climbing. You’ll probably hate half of it, but we'll figure it out together.”

A comforting buzz settles behind my ribs. “Together, huh?”

He nods, leaning down to kiss me. “Yeah. From here on out, it's together.”

I let out a soft breath and close my eyes, the feel of his palm working our lengths nearly too much. That word hits me hard for some reason. Maybe because no one’s ever used it before without conditions attached.

Not until you run out of drugs.

Not as long as you have something to offer.

Just… together.

My fingertips trail up his sides. “You might end up regretting this.”

“Doubtful.”

“But you’re still in?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I’m still in.”

Something inside me loosens just enough to make room for the idea that I don’t have to figure everything out alone anymore. Maybe I don’t have to trust myself yet.

For now, with Christian holding me steady, his lips gentle on mine while he strokes us both into euphoria for the second time tonight⁠—

I realize all that matters is trusting who I'm with.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Christian

Snow crunches under the wheels of my dirt bike as cold air bites through my gloves.

The world is white and blinding, breath puffing out in thick clouds. Devon clears the ramp in front of me, weightless against the gray sky. Huckslee's bike angles just right for him to land smoothly in the fluffy powder like he’s been doing this his whole life.

“Hell yeah!” Taylor whoops beside me, bouncing in his seat. “You see that shit?”

“I saw it,” I grumble, heart still lodged in my throat.

Dev circles back toward us, snow spraying from his tires. “Okay, that one felt good. How'd it look?”

“Textbook front flip,” Tay says excitedly. “You didn’t even panic.”

I grunt in agreement. “You trusted the throttle that time. It was good.”

Dev nods as he lifts his visor. “Yeah. I stopped second-guessing everything.”

His cheeks are bitten pink from the cold, eyes bright in a way I'm starting to become obsessed with. Two weeks ago, the guy could barely do a whip. Getting back onto a bike for the first time since the crash terrified him, and now he's fucking flying.

“You're learning quickly,” Taylor says, giving him a fistbump. “Christian took an entire month to even pop a wheelie.

“I was seven, pendejo,” I growl, punching him in the arm.

“Pretty sure we were ten.”