Page 44 of Endo
I push my phone aside and text Jen next, letting her know I won’t be at my rehab appointment in the morning.
Reign: Won’t be at rehab tomorrow. I’ll do my exercises on my own. Promise.
I don’t need her breathing down my neck. I can barely stand myself as it is.
I throw the covers off and drag myself out of bed, not even bothering to change out of the T-shirt I’ve been wearing all day. I’m not hungry, but I know I need to eat something. Microwave meal. Protein shake. Anything to fill the gap, to keep me moving. But tonight, it’s not numbness clinging to me—it’s something else entirely. Something that feels… lighter. Almost good.
I grab the food, shove it in the microwave, and let it heat while I pace around the small living room. For once, it’s not because I’m anxious, but because I can’t sit still. My mind’s buzzing with something other than the dark shit that always seems to loom over me.
Lena.
The way she looked at me today, her determination, her fire. The way she trusted me to guide her, to be there. It’s fucking addicting. And knowing not only that I’ll see her again tomorrow, but that it was her idea—hell, it’s the best thing I’ve felt in a long time. It’s like I’ve got a reason to get up tomorrow, to keep moving.
I eat, not even paying attention to the taste, my main focus on the thought of tomorrow. Training with Lena. Helping her get better. Watching her push herself, her stubbornness dragging her through. It makes me want to push myself too, to be better.
I plop down on the couch, the TV buzzing in the background. But this time, the silence isn’t crushing. The guilt and shame—they’re still there, but they’ve faded into the background, drowned out by something I didn’t think I’d feel again.
Hope.
It’s her. She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing, doesn’t know the way she’s pulling me out of this darkness piece by piece. I never expected her to be the one who could heal me, the one who could make me want to feel alive again. But that’s exactly what she’s doing.
She’s giving me purpose.
I shake my head, a small smirk tugging at my lips as I set the empty plate aside. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it. For the first time in forever, I’m looking forward to something—to someone.
Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
I wakeup later than usual, the sunlight streaming through the curtains telling me it’s almost noon. For the first time in months, I slept peacefully—no nightmares, no tossing and turning. Just quiet. It’s a strange feeling, waking up without the weight of the world pressing down on me. Peaceful, almost.
I shower quickly, grab a protein bar, and hit the road. On the way to the track, I stop for coffee, knowing it’ll win me points with Lena. That girl loves her coffee sweet. So sweet it’s practically dessert in a cup—and she doesn’t sneak it.
She fuckingownsit.
I order my usual black coffee, then take a second to decide on hers. Finally, I settle on something over-the-top: an iced caramel latte with extra caramel drizzle, vanilla syrup, whipped cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. It’s indulgent, but it fits her—bold, unapologetically sweet, and impossible to ignore.
When I pull into the track, the sun is high in the afternoon sky, casting long shadows across the asphalt. The place is quiet, the heat shimmering off the pavement, just the way I like it. The guys are out of town for a fundraiser, so it’s just me and Lena today. Perfect.
The sound of her car pulling in snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn to watch as she steps out, the golden sun catching her in just the right way. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a snug black tank top under a lightweight flannel, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It’s simple, but she makes it look effortlessly good.
Her hair’s pulled back in a loose ponytail, golden strands catching the sunlight like they’ve been dipped in honey. A few loose pieces frame her face, messy but in that perfectly Lena way that makes it look intentional.
There’s something about the way she carries herself, too. Confident, but not in a loud way. It’s in the way her shoulders are back, her steps purposeful, like she’s ready to take on the world—or at least this track.
Her eyes meet mine as she walks toward me, and for a split second, I swear she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. There’s a flicker of something there—a mix of determination and amusement, like she’s daring me to keep up.
“Morning,” she calls out, her voice light but teasing.
Her tone matches the small smirk tugging at her lips. It’s the kind of expression that says she’s already winning, even if I don’t know what the game is.
I clear my throat, holding up the coffee cups as my excuse for staring. “Coffee, as promised.”
She raises an eyebrow, taking hers and giving me that look—that mischievous, sharp look she’s perfected. “Caramel latte with extra everything? You know me so well.”
“You’re easy to figure out,” I shoot back, but my grin gives me away.
She takes a sip, her eyes widening like I’ve just handed her the holy grail of coffee. “Okay, you’re forgiven for whatever smartass comment you were gonna make. This is perfect.”
Her face softens as she says it, and for a second, I let myself take her in—the way her lips curve around the straw, the little furrow of concentration as she savors the taste.
