Page 224 of Rogue Riders Duet

Something inside me stirs as she holds me. Not the fire I’m used to—rage, adrenaline, or raw desperation—but something smaller, softer.

Hope, maybe?

Élise holds me until I stop shaking, but I have no idea why I am or when it even started. But once it eases and I take my first steady breath, she eases back. Her hand is still warm on my upper arm as she studies my face.

“Did you have a good conversation with your father?”

I huff before wiping my nose with the back of my wrist. “I don’t know. He was… weird.”

Her brows lift slightly. “How?”

“Apparently, he wants to be a better dad now,” I say, and even though I tried to force my voice to be even, the words come out raw. “Said a lot of things about being there and trying, wanting to do his best.”

Élise nods slowly, her expression unreadable. “And what do you think?”

I exhale, and my shoulders slump. “I don’t know. That I’ll believe it when I see it? I don’t even know why he’d want that now, or what I’m supposed to do about it.”

“You’re the child. You only have one thing to do.”

I furrow my brows. “And that is?”

“Give him the chance to love you.”

“Give him the chance to love me,” I echo. “I don’t even know how to do that.”

“You don’t have to fix or forgive anything. You don’t have to accept it, match it, or pretend it means more than it does. You just let him try. You live your life, and if he wants to be a part of it, let him show you. If he doesn’t? Then that’s on him.”

She gives my arm a little pat, then takes my wrist, guiding me toward the couch. “Come. Sit with me.”

I follow her, letting her tuck me under her arm as we settle onto the cushions.

“I had a conversation with Dane,” she says after a beat.

So that’s why they’re all so weird?

Dammit, Dane.

“You did?”

Élise nods. “That boy loves you so much.”

My chest aches in that familiar pulse of fierce, complicated love for my brother. “Yeah,” I say thickly. “He loves me too much.”

“There’s no such thing,” Élise replies, smoothing my hair with the same soft rhythm she used earlier, but there’s something sad in her eyes.

“What did you talk about?” I ask, dreading the answer and how much I need to hear it.

She runs her fingers lightly over the flowers on my tattoo, tracing one petal like she’s memorizing it. Mason flashes through my head like a spark, and the ache deepens.

“Did Luc tell you that his father committed suicide when he was thirteen?”

I freeze, and the room shifts from under me, tilting everything.

“No,” I breathe out.

Fuck.

“It was very hard for us. Of course, it was hard for Luc, but for me, it was unbearable. I was married to the love of my life. We had a good kid who was loud and wild, always getting into trouble, but I loved him so much. That was all I ever had to worry about. Whether Luc had jumped off someone’s roof again.”