Page 37 of Endo
The guilt gnaws at me like an animal, chewing through my insides. I should’ve listened. She was right about everything. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I couldn’t see how badly I was hurting her. How badly I was hurting myself by trying to shoulder everything alone.
I should’ve been there for her. But I pushed her away. And now she’s pulling back, and I can feel it.
I pull up and kill the engine, staring at the building for a moment. The silence in my head feels deafening, like it’smocking me. I can’t run from it anymore. I can’t run from my mistakes.
I force myself out of the car and into the center. Jen is waiting for me, clipboard in hand, her expression unreadable but professional. She gives me a small nod, and I follow her into the workout area. The place is quiet, just the hum of machines and the soft tread of feet on the mat.
“Alright, Reign,” Jen says, her voice calm but firm. “Let’s see how we’re doing today.”
I nod and get to work, focusing on the physical tasks in front of me—stretching, strengthening, bending. Each movement sends a wave of pain through my leg, but I force myself to keep going, gritting my teeth with each controlled motion.
Jen keeps her eyes on me, guiding me through each exercise, but I’m not really paying attention to her. My mind is elsewhere, spiraling back to Lena, to the mess I’ve created between us.
I know I’ve been an asshole. I know I’ve been pushing everyone away. And I’m not fine. Not at all. I’m a fucking wreck.
Jen watches me for a moment before speaking again. “You’re doing well, Reign. But don’t push too hard, okay? We’re not trying to break you, just build you back up.”
I can feel the tension in my jaw as I force myself through another set of leg lifts. I want to push harder. I want to prove to everyone that I’m fine. That I’m back. But my body is betraying me.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I’m fine.” But I’m not.
Jen raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t press me. “Alright. Just keep breathing, Reign. You’re doing great, just... take it easy.”
But I can’t. I need to prove something. To myself, to Lena, to everyone. I don’t want their sympathy. I don’t want their support. I can fix this on my own. I have to.
Later, at the Speed Demons’garage, I try to keep my focus on the work. My bikes need attention, despite the fact that I’m not riding yet, and I’ve been spending most of my time the last few days trying to get them running smoothly again. Anything to keep my mind off of the pain, off of the frustration of my body failing me.
And off ofher.
The place is buzzing with activity, the usual clatter of tools and the hum of the machines filling the air. I move through the garage like I’m on autopilot, hands deftly working on the engine, tightening bolts, adjusting the throttle. It’s familiar. It’s comfortable. It keeps me from thinking.
But there’s something nagging at me.
It’s the way everyone keeps glancing at me, like they’re all fucking waiting for me to break. It’s the way I know they’re all thinking about the same thing—about me and my progress—or lack thereof. I can’t let them see how much it’s eating at me. Can’t let them see how close I am to just throwing it all away.
Thorne approaches, the sound of his boots on the concrete floor cutting through my concentration. His presence is like a shadow, looming and quiet. I can’t escape it. He’s too perceptive. He knows me too well.
“Reign,” Thorne starts, his British accent smooth but firm, as always. “How you feeling, bruv?”
I don’t look up from the bike, trying to focus on something else, anything else. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” His voice is calm but carries an underlying edge, as if he’s seeing right through me. “You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard lately. Maybe you should take a step back.”
“I don’t need to take a step back.” My tone is harsher than I intended. I don’t want to sound like I’m convincing myself, but I need to believe it. “I need to keep pushing forward.”
There’s a moment of silence as he lets his words hang in the air. I can feel his eyes on me, trying to figure me out, but I keep my focus on the bike. He sighs and leans against the wall, arms crossed in that way he does when he’s about to give a lecture.
“Reign,” Thorne says again, his voice quieter, almost softer, but still carrying weight. “You’ve got a team here, yeah? We’re all in this together. You don’t have to do it on your own.”
I bristle at the suggestion, my muscles tensing involuntarily. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
Thorne raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “Right. You’re the lone wolf, aren’t you? Always have been. But even wolves need a pack sometimes.”
“I’m not a fucking wolf,” I snap, spinning around to face him. My fists clench at my sides, my anger rising before I can stop it. “I don’t need anyone. I’ll fix this on my own, alright?”
Thorne doesn’t flinch. He meets my glare with a steady gaze, a mix of patience and understanding in his eyes. “I’m not saying you can’t do it on your own, Reign. But you’re not alone, mate. We’ve got your back. Don’t shut us out.”
The words hit harder than I expected. I want to argue, to push back, but something in me hesitates. I’ve always prided myself on being self-sufficient, on never needing anyone. But hearing Thorne’s tone, there’s a part of me that realizes maybe I don’t have to shoulder everything alone.
