Page 79 of Rogue Riders Duet

“Front tire’s blown,” Finn cuts in from where he’s now standing beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Just ease it. Slow it down…”

The steering wheel bucks like it’s alive, and I fight it, but the whole damn bus feels like it wants to roll over and die in that ditch, and I’m not strong enough to stop it.

No, no, no.

Finn takes charge by grabbing the wheel, his arm pressing into mine.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “I’ve got you. We’ve got this.”

The wheel jerks again, and I gasp, but his hand stays firm, and the panic crawling through my ribs starts to slow, just a little, because Finn is here. We’re still moving, lurching toward the shoulder, but it’s less wild now.

“Almost there,” he murmurs right near my ear. “Just keep it straight. Let it roll out.”

And somehow, I do. We do.

The bus finally groans to a stop, leaning hard on one side like a wounded animal. My hands are glued to the wheel like it might take off without me, and Finn’s hand is still there too. We just breathe for a moment. The silence wraps tight around us, heavy with everything that could’ve gone wrong.

Then he moves, not away but closer. His fingers lift a strand of my short hair from where it’s stuck on my temple and gently tucks it away. Then his palm brushes over my shoulder, down to the middle of my back in a steady, soothing line, making goose bumps erupt all over my spine.

“You did good,” he says quietly. “We’re okay.”

I swallow hard and nod, even though I’m not sure I believe it.

“Thanks,” I murmur shakily.

He gives me one last look and then moves toward the back. “I’ll check on Dane.”

As soon as he disappears down the aisle, I drop my forehead to the wheel and let out a subtle, wounded sound.

God.

I almost killed us.

And what’s worse? I needed him to save me, and now he’ll look at me differently.

Fragile, helpless, a burden, just like everyone saw me after the crash. Biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, I lift my head slowly, breathing through my nose.

Fine. Let him think whatever he wants. I don’t need his pity.

When Finn reappears, his expression is tight. “Dane’s fine. He’s just grumpy, but he told me where the spare is.”

“Great,” I mutter, pulling the switch to open the door. I spring from my seat and jump down into the grass, scrunching up my face at the pain that zings through me at the impact, only to find that it’s cold out here. The wind is biting, and the clouds are heavy with more bad news as I crouch next to the blown tire, staring at the shredded rubber. It’s curled like burned skin, and something inside me just folds quietly.

This is my fault.

“I’ll get the jack,” Finn announces behind me.

“I can do it,” I snap.

“I know you can.” He crouches beside me. “But you don’t have to.”

I jerk my head toward him, fury flaring up to hide the ache beneath it. “If you hadn’t come along, I would’ve had to.”

Or maybe not, because if he hadn’t come along, the bus would be lying in that ditch.

“But I did.” His blue eyes are holding me captive. “I’m here now.”

Those three words punch harder than anything else could have, and I go completely still because I hear what he’s not saying.