Page 52 of Rogue Riders Duet

That makes me pause.

Because it’s true. I have been like that.

“Is it me taking first place?” He sets the can down, and it sounds half-empty already. “Because, sorry to break it to you, Petit, but that’s not gonna change.”

“No,” I say, more quietly than I mean to.

“Then what?” He tilts his head. “Why don’t you like me even though you don’t know me?”

All the teasing drops away. He’s not grinning now, just watching me with these sky-blue, tired eyes that seem older than he is.

“Why did you push me down a mountain even though you don’t know me? I haven’t done anything to provoke that.”

Well, except mouthing off, but that’s not a crime.

“I know.” Luc sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, okay? I’m not proud of it. I have a temper, and it just…” he shrugs helplessly, “… takes me places.”

It’s the first thing he’s said that doesn’t sound like a joke. My legs are stiff as I slide into the seat across from him. He glances up, probably surprised I came closer instead of trying to kick him out again.

My hip throbs under the table, but I ignore it. We regard each other, and it seems he wants to say more but doesn’t know how, and it makes me soften toward him, just a little.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Luc doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks away from mine, but then back again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he counters, holding my gaze steady, and his eyes tell me that he hopes I say yes. That he needs me to care.

And that throws me. Why me?

We don’t know each other, and we don’t owe each other anything. He’s Luc-fucking-Delacroix. He’s got a pit full of people who follow him like it’s their religion. Teammates, fans, girls. Hell, even half the juniors would kill for two minutes of his time, but he’s sitting here, in my bus, on my tiny bench, looking at me like I’m the only person on the planet who might get it. Whatever it is.

“I want to listen,” I say finally. “If you want to tell me.”

The words settle between us, softer than I meant them, but heavier too.

And maybe it’s selfish, but I mean them more than I should, because part of me wants him to say yes. Not just so he’ll open up, but so he’ll stay. So I won’t be alone in this shitty little bus with nothing but my pain, my plans, and the silence pressing in.

Luc huffs a sound that’s almost a laugh, but it’s too quiet. He glances down at his hands, running a nail over the edge of his thumb.

“I don’t, but…” he mutters. “I think I owe you… merde.”

I don’t respond to his stilted words. Instead, I wait until he finally breaks and opens his mouth again.

“I chase the high, always have. Racing, partying, girls, chaos.” He exhales hard through his nose, his eyes still downcast, fingers still fidgeting. “I’m fast and loud. I’m alive… and then it flips, and I’m doing shit I don’t even register until afterward. My brain blanks out, and that’s when my body acts.”

His fingers still before he speaks again.

“Today wasn’t planned. I didn’t even think. It just… happened. And last year…” He swallows. “My temper almost cost me everything. The title and my contract.”

I frown. “It did?”

He dips his chin in answer before explaining. “Raine figured me out, somehow knew I had some anger issues, and he started poking it, little by little. Saying shit in passing, just enough to dig in, and I let him.” His lips twist with guilt. “End of the season, at the last race, he said something, I don’t even remember what it was. It was stupid, but I snapped and punched him in the stomach. Didn’t even care who saw.” He glances at me, and then back down again. “My team manager, Paul, did. He saw it all.”

I wince, but he doesn’t see it.

“It’s a miracle I wasn’t disqualified for unsporting behavior. I would’ve deserved it, honestly. After that, I promised myself and Paul I’d hold it together this season. That I’d grow up, but now it isn’t even the second race, and I’ve already shoved Payne and nearly fucking killed you.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m already fucking it up.”

“Fuck Raine.”