Page 35 of Endo
I stand there for what feels like hours, the waves pulling and pushing at me, until my legs ache from the cold and the weight of everything I can’t say. The things I’m scared to feel.
By the time I trudge back to my bike, the stars are fading, and the sky is just beginning to lighten. I sit on the seat, my helmet clutched in my hands, staring at the horizon. A promise forms on my lips, one I’m not sure I can keep.
“I’m going to keep pushing, Cruz. I have to. I can’t let myself feel what I’m feeling for him. I won’t let myself.”
The words sound hollow, like I’m trying to convince myself as much as him. But it’s the only way I know how to fight this.
The ocean centeris buzzing the next morning, the usual chaos of kids, volunteers, and staff weaving around tanks and exhibits. It’s comforting in a way—predictable, steady, and far removed from the mess in my head.
I’m scrubbing the glass of the turtle tank when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Didn’t know you were in the janitorial business now.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Revel leaning against the doorway, his lopsided grin firmly in place. He’s wearing board shorts and a hoodie that’s definitely seen better days, his dark hair curling slightly at the ends from the humidity.
“Someone’s gotta do it,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes as I rinse the sponge. “What do you want, Revel?”
“Just checking in,” he says, stepping closer. “You weren’t answering your phone last night.”
I shrug, not meeting his gaze. “Didn’t feel like talking.”
“Big surprise.” He smirks, but there’s something softer in his tone when he adds, “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, too quickly, and his brow lifts in that annoying way that tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“Right,” he says, dragging the word out. “Because running off to mope on the beach screams ‘fine.’”
I whip around to glare at him. “Were you spying on me?”
“Relax, Nancy Drew. I guessed.” He crosses his arms, his grin widening. “You’ve always been predictable.”
“Predictable?” I scoff, throwing the sponge into the bucket. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been wearing the same hoodie since 2019.”
“And it still looks good,” he says, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve.
I snort, shaking my head, but his teasing is enough to chip away at the tension in my chest. That’s the thing about Revel—he’s an infuriating pain in the ass, but he knows exactly how to make me laugh when I need it most.
His expression turns more serious as he leans against the tank. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Reign lately.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t like the guy,” he says bluntly.
“You don’t even know him,” I argue, grabbing a towel to dry my hands.
“I know enough,” he says, his voice firm. “I don’t trust him. And honestly, I don’t think he’s good for you.”
“Noted,” I say, brushing past him. “Anything else, Dad?”
He follows me, his tone softening. “I just… I’m worried about you, Lena. That’s all.”
I spin around to face him, my arms crossed. “Reign is helping me, okay? He’s been through a lot of the same stuff, and he gets it. You don’t have to like him, but he’s not the bad guy you’re making him out to be.”
Revel’s jaw tightens, but he lets out a long sigh. “Fine. Do what you want. You always do.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” I mutter, turning back to the tank.
He lingers for a moment before adding, “I’ll grab Chinese and meet you at your place after work. Sound good?”
