Page 191 of Rogue Riders Duet

I have no idea why that bugs me, but it does. Fuck, after that stupid drive over—after we talked—I want more of that, but I shove it down, hard, and snap back instead.

“She tried to be there for you without losing her cover, imbécile.”

I know she tried to keep her distance, but we got in anyway. We made her trust us, even when she didn’t want to.

Mason frowns down at his shoes, and I leave him to process, pacing a few steps ahead as I also try to make sense of the chaos still spiraling through my chest.

How could I have not seen it?

She had that petite frame, those soft hands, the beautiful face that was always just a little too feminine. But I brushed all that off because who the hell questions someone moving like that on a bike?

Now I can’t stop seeing it—her softness, the way her eyes held things back, not only because she was hiding, but because she was scared.

And fuck, I can’t find it in me to be mad at her. Not after seeing her like that, broken in a hospital bed, high on medications, cute as fuck, and still so mine.

But I need to hear it from her. I need her to say it, to explain it all.

“You shouldn’t have been so mean to her,” I say, whipping back around toward Mason. “You can go cool off, but we’re gonna talk about this again when we’re all straight-headed.”

Straight.

Fuck, does that mean I’m straight after all?

I start pacing again, tugging at my hair. I was into her before I knew, except not him, because it was her all along. But then again…

Realizing Payne hasn’t responded, I glance up to find his reflection in the sliding glass doors, still fuming like a thundercloud with that perfect little scowl on his face.

Yeah.

Maybe not.

My gaze travels down to the reflection of his lips.

She wanted us to kiss.

Sure, she was high as hell, floating on Dilaudid and delusions, but would she really want that?

Do I?

Merde. Stop thinking about that, Luc. Focus.

Mason’s reflection grows bigger before he storms past me, and I fall into step behind him as we leave the hospital. It’s still raining, not with the fury of the wild storm from earlier, but enough to soak your shoulders if you stand still for too long.

I tug on the back of my hoodie that’s still clinging to him, stopping him from going any further. “How do you even plan to get back? Because I’m not leaving without her.”

“Not your damn problem,” he growls. “I’ll find a way. Just fuck off.”

I yank the hoodie harder, surprised he hasn’t pulled away. “Why are you acting like a dick? She’s in there hurting. She thinks you’re her friend, and you⁠—”

“Yeah?” Mason snaps, whipping around to face me, pulling the fabric from my fingers. “And I thought he was mine.”

His gaze flits around like he’s looking for which direction to take, and I grab him. His biceps are hot through the soaked fabric as I pull him toward me until we’re chest to chest, breath to breath. His eyes widen in shock as the rain falls on us, reminding me of Petite and our first kiss.

His brow furrows when our eyes meet, and I can’t think about her now that I’m this close to Mason.

Close enough to see it all.

Not just the rage, but the hurt he’s trying to hide with anger. It’s in his eyes, wild and dark and so goddamn raw it makes something ache deep inside me. His muscles bunch under my hands like he’s seconds from falling apart, and he smells of pine, storm, and sweat and, fuck me, faint traces of my scent, which is clinging to the hoodie.