Page 396 of Rogue Riders Duet

I carve every turn, crush every root, and then I rush toward the jump.

That jump.

The one that almost killed me.

The one that crushed bone, trust, and time.

Today I’m the one crushing it.

I send it clean and fucking fly.

My braid snaps behind me, wind-tossed and wild, and joy bubbles up so fast I can’t hold it back. I let out the girliest, most ridiculous squeal of pure, unfiltered delight, because I’m here. I’m still here, and I get to feel this.

This speed, this freedom, this love for the ride, for the people waiting at the finish, for myself.

I’m so damn glad I didn’t kill myself.

So glad I was strong enough to hold on, brave enough to reach for the hands that kept reaching back. Willing enough to give myself the grace to fall, break, and rage, and still choose to get back up.

No one really wants to go. Most just don’t know how to stay.

But I stayed, and I know, no matter what happens when my tires hit dirt again, I’ll be okay, because now, even when my breath catches, even when it breaks, I trust myself to keep breathing.

I land clean, wheels down, and my bike holds. I hold.

Then I’m tearing through the final section. Legs burning, arms locked, everything screaming forward until I blast through the finish line. The sound of the crowd is so loud it’s almost a wall of noise I have to ride through.

I glance over my shoulder, and the board flashes green.

Green.

I don’t even see the time, don’t know who came second or third, because before I can process any of it, I’m lifted, pulled from my bike and into the air before I’m sat on strong shoulders.

Luc is on one side, Mason is on the other, both gripping my legs, both screaming their heads off. I clutch at their hair to steady myself, laughing breathlessly, body still shaking from the ride. Finn is right there, too, reaching up to take my hand and squeeze it hard.

“Holy shit, you did it, baby girl!” he shouts, eyes watery, but face cracked wide open in the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him.

Otis barrels in with a whoop, tossing his helmet in the air. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

I grin down at him, then pull off my helmet and scan the sea of noise, movement, and sweat-streaked color, searching for our black, pink, and blue.

And there it is.

All our people. All in our colors.

Dane, standing behind the barrier, Piper tucked into his side, her little baby bump cradled under his palm. His eyes are shining, and a little teary, and my eyes burn in answer.

Next to them, Jim has an arm wrapped around Élise, both of them beaming. Finn’s parents are there, too, flanking Kevin and Rachel, who are still in their kits, still dirty from the junior race. They both won the overall in their divisions today, and next year, they’re coming up to race elite with us. Maybe I won’t be the only woman racing the men’s field anymore. Rachel is a fast little witch, and I love her for it.

Then my eyes land on my dad, standing just beside the group, awkward as hell in the same team shirt as the rest, but two sizes too big, drowning in blue, black, and pink and wildflowers. It couldn’t be further from his usual suits and polished shoes.

But he’s here.

He came to every race he could this and last season, and the ones he missed, he called afterward to ask how it went. He still funds the team without us needing to look for other sponsors, granting us the freedom to lead it exactly as we want.

Hell, when Luc demanded we get a portable Kaiserschmarrn station because his soul cannot race without proper nourishment, Dad didn’t even blink and just ordered one for the bus.

He’s trying, and I think, slowly, I’m starting to forgive him. Not just for what he did or didn’t do, but for not being the family I needed back then. Because now, he’s the one making this possible.