It’s so unexpected, I let out a half-laugh.
Yeah, I guess I do too.
She grins and turns to prep the table, lowering it and laying out fresh towels. “Get undressed. I’m gonna work your hip and back. And I’m making room for you in my schedule from now on. We’ll have to do it in the evenings, though, I’m pretty booked.” I just stare at her when she glances back over her shoulder. “If you want to kick the male riders’ asses, you’ll need a physio,” she says. “And I’m guessing you can’t exactly have anyone else doing your sessions without blowing your cover.”
“Why… why are you doing this?”
She pauses.
Then, with a little smile. “Honestly? This is my last season with the circuit. I’m bored. And you?” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re the most interesting thing I’ve seen in the last five years.” Something in my chest unknots just a little. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me,” she adds, smile deepening. “Or maybe I’ll just wait and see.”
I can’t help it, I grin a real one.
Dane is going to kill me for this.If he finds out,but the truth is, she already knows. And somehow, she’s not looking at me like I’m crazy or broken. She’s simply… curious.
There’s nothing left to do now but trust this sharp-eyed stranger who caught me mid-fall and didn’t flinch.
So I take a breath and pull off the hoodie.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mason
The night air is cool against my skin, damp in the way that always settles deep into your joints if you sit still for too long. I stretch my legs out, away from the camping stool, and sip my magnesium drink, the citrus tang clinging to the back of my throat. Everything aches in the way it always does after qualifying. My shoulders are tight, my fingers twitchy, and my legs are somewhere between heavy and humming.
Dad is beside me, sitting in his usual seat, which looks like it’s been molded to him. He’s got a cloth in one hand and a tool in the other, rubbing at it in slow circles. The sound is rhythmic, familiar. Comforting, maybe. But tonight, it just grates.
Because I qualified fourth.
Fourth.
Luc, naturally, took the top spot. The chaotic bastard somehow always sticks the landing. Then Raine, the snake. And third? Allen-fucking-Crews.
My jaw flexes as I glance toward the far edge of the lot, where Mini Crews is crouched by his bike again. Alone inthe dark with his head down, laser-focused, like the entire rest of the world doesn’t exist.
He’s always doing that. Always fixing something. Adjusting, tweaking, and tuning like the whole bike will fall apart if he doesn’t touch it every five minutes, and the longer I watch, the more annoyed I get.
Because what the hell is he trying to prove?
“I just don’t understand how he’s so damn fast,” I mutter. “He looks like a teenager. And have you noticed how?—”
“No,” Dad cuts in, voice dry as dust. “I haven’t noticed.” He glances up at me before going back to polishing. “Mase, I know you love to obsess over everything… your stats, your training, your lines. But I’veneverseen you obsess over another rider like this.”
“It’s not?—”
“So what if he’s small?” he asks, cutting me off. “He’s a good rider. That’s all, and you were never one to blame others for your time. He was just faster today. Doesn’t mean he will be tomorrow during the race. Give it your best and stop obsessing.”
Obsessing?Hardly.
I’ve been riled up by riders before. Luc, definitely. Raine, absolutely. But this?
This is different.
Mini Crews gets under my skin in a way I can’t explain because he’s got no businessoutdrivingme and being fucking nice about it.
And Ihatethat the weird little guy jumped in to defend me. Twice. I didn’t ask for it. Didn’t need it, and he got hurt for it. Thrown down hard because of somethingIwas in the middle of.
It looked bad too. I watched him puke before limpingoff like he was barely holding himself together. And what does he do today?
