Page 45 of Endo
Damn it, Reign. Pull it together.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask, nodding to the brown paper bag in her hand, needing a distraction.
“Bagels,” she says, tossing it to me. “Figured you’d skip breakfast. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t keel over.”
I laugh, pulling one out and breaking off a piece. “Guess we’re even then.”
Her smirk softens into something almost fond, and she leans against the car next to me, sipping her coffee and watching the track like she owns the place.
She doesn’t know it, but she lights up the whole damn space just by being here.
She joins me, the two of us eating in comfortable silence. For once, there’s no weight, no heaviness hanging between us. Just the buzz of the day ahead.
After we’re done, she suits up, and we hit the track. She warms up first, her movements confident and sharp as she takes a few laps. I watch, sipping my coffee and feeling that old fire flicker to life again.
When she slows down and pulls up to where I’m standing, I lean against the fence. “You’re still cutting into the turns too soon,” I tell her. “Let the bike carry you through a little longer.”
She sighs, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say.”
“Don’t worry,” I tease. “You’ll get it. Maybe.”
She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Expert. If you’re so good, show me how it’s done.”
I hesitate for a second, but shake my head. “Not today. This is your time.”
Her eyes narrow as she smirks. “You’re full of shit, but I’ll let it slide—for now.”
The playful edge in her voice makes me grin, and I wave her back to the track. She takes off again, this time nailing the turns with more confidence. Watching her ride makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in months.
After a while, she pulls over and hops off the bike, pulling her phone out of her pocket when it buzzes.
“It’s work,” she says after a moment. “One of the turtles I’ve been helping is getting released today, and Chloe is sick so they need another hand.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, meaning it. “You should go.”
She hesitates, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you hanging.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. Go do your thing.”
For a second, she looks like she wants to argue, but then she nods. “Thanks, Reign. I’ll see you later.”
“Good luck, Lena.”
She waves as she heads back to her car, and I watch her go, feeling lighter than I have in months.
But as the sound of her car fades, one thought stays with me:
Today feels like the start of something new.
When I thinkshe’s gone, I make my move.
I don’t know why I even bother thinking I can do this, but I’m doing it. There’s a part of me that’s desperate to feelnormalagain. To feel like myself. The knot in my stomach tightens as I approach my bike, like it’s some kind of challenge I’m scared to face, but here I am, about to take it head-on.
I strap on my gear, piece by piece. Jacket first, then the helmet. The sound of the buckle clicking into place almost feels final, like there’s no turning back now. The leather feels thick and heavy against my skin, but it’s the only thing that gives me any sense of control. Last, is the gloves. I slide them on, and start the engine, and for a split second, it’s like the world goes quiet. Just me and the roar of the bike beneath me. My hands grip the handlebars, shaking slightly, and my heart beats harder. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The moment where I get back on the bike and prove to myself that I’m still in control of something.
But before I can shift into gear, the flashbacks hit me like a fucking freight train.
The crash. The pain. The feeling of the bike slipping beneath me, the world tilting at that impossible angle.
