“They said,” Finn starts, clearing his throat like it tastes bad going down, “‘Allen Crews has been disqualified for holding back relevant medical and identity information, and due to unsporting behavior, is suspended indefinitely from all UCI-sanctioned events.’”
“Okay.” Mason exhales close above me. “It’s not great, but it’s not like they leaked you.”
“Well,” Finn says quietly. “They didn’t, but someone in the comments apparently did.”
“Who?” I sit up as my stomach turns. “What do they say?”
“It’s a username, so I have no idea.” He scrolls somemore, then finally, he reads, “Allen Crews is actually Alaina Crews, a former junior rider who quit racing after a crash.”
Luc stops spinning, and the chair wheels squeak into silence. “How the fuck does the public even know that?”
“It’s not like rumors don’t spread fast here.” Mason shifts beside me. “Especially not ones this juicy.”
“And it’s not like I’ve been calm,” I mutter. “I screamed my own name during my meltdown in the UCI tent. Not exactly stealth mode.”
Finn sighs, eyes still on his phone. “They’re all over it now. Threads popping up, cross-references to old photos, fan pages reposting shots from junior leagues. Someone pulled up an old interview clip. Shit is moving fast.” His thumb moves again, scrolling, before his face shifts. It’s the barest of changes, but I see it.
“What?” I ask, lifting my head slightly from Mason’s lap. “Don’t make that face.”
“It’s nothing,” Finn mutters, but he won’t meet my eyes.
“Finn.” I sit up straighter. “Give me all of it. I need to know how bad it is.”
He hesitates.
Ah,shit.
Luc mutters something under his breath in French that I’m pretty sure includes the wordidiot.
Finn sighs. “I don’t think we should—” he starts, but before he can finish, I’m already moving.
I stand, snatch the phone out of his hand, and sit back down hard on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up. My pulse hammers as I scroll, thumb jittering with something that isn’t just adrenaline when I read the comments Finn saw out loud.
“If she wanted to race, she should’ve stayed in her lane, literally.”
“I like girls who can ride, she can ride me next.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s fast. Can she make a sandwich tho?”
“Can we stop the nonsense of thinking that women can compete with men in sports?”
“Hope UCI bans her for life. Bitch lied to everyone.”
My hands tremble, but I keep reading.
“Bet she cried every time she lost and blamed her perio?—”
The phone is yanked out of my grip mid-sentence. Luc’s nostrils are flared. “I’ll find every one of theseenculéshiding behind a screen. We’ll see how fast they type with broken fingers.”
Mason shifts behind me, his hand sliding up my spine in slow strokes, and I let myself crumble a little.
Fuck.
Finn steals his phone back and starts scrolling again. “Here’s a good one,” he says after a moment, making me look up at him.
“She outrode almost the complete men’s league. That’s not just badass, that’s legendary.”
Luc lets out a bark of laughter. “Enfin. Someone with taste.”
