Page 49 of Endo
I’ve been watching her ride more and more these days—pushing herself to get better, to fight through whatever’s haunting her. And I know what it is. It’s that aching loss, the shit she’s been burying since the crash. That kind of grief doesn’tjust go away. She’s been running from it, using that bike like a lifeline, like if she can just keep moving fast enough, she won’t have to feel the weight of everything that’s been tearing her apart inside.
It’s in her eyes, the way her hands grip the handlebars like they’re the only thing keeping her together, the way she doesn’t even acknowledge how much she’s hurting. She’s pushing herself beyond what’s necessary, but I’ve come to learn that’s her thing. Never asking for help. Never letting anyone see how much she’s falling apart.
I can see it clearly, even in the blazing sun, how much she’s holding back. She’s good—hell, she’s fucking great. But I know there’s more going on with her than just the bike. Every time she hits a new speed, there’s this flicker of something darker in her eyes. That grief, that pain, that loss. It’s like she’s trying to outrun it all, but it’s always there, right under the surface. Maybe that’s why she rides so hard. So she doesn’t have to face what’s eating at her when the helmet comes off.
I can feel my chest tightening as I watch her, but I push it down. I know she’s got this. I know she’s strong enough to fight through whatever’s pulling at her. Still, I can’t help the worry gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
Maybe it’s because I know what that’s like. I’ve been there. I’ve been on the other side of trying to outrun pain and pretending it doesn’t exist. Watching her, though, it’s like I’m seeing a version of myself, but in a different shape. She’s pushing so fucking hard, and I can’t help but feel it. It’s like everything she’s been through is slamming into her, all at once, and she’s fighting it with everything she’s got. But even with all that grit, there’s still something fragile about her. Like at any moment, the weight of it all might come crashing down. And I can’t stand the idea of being the reason it happens.
I’d never let her fall like that.
Since that night, there’s been this fucking pull toward her—something I can’t shake no matter how hard I try. The way she holds me, the way she’s there when everything else is falling apart, makes me want to break down all the walls I’ve built around myself. She’s become this force that calms the chaos inside me, like her presence is enough to silence the storm in my head. And I know, deep down, that she feels it too.
There’s this thing between us, this unspoken understanding, like we both get each other’s scars—our pain, our shit. She’s been through hell, just like me, and for a brief moment, when we’re together, it feels like everything else falls away. Like we can both breathe again.
The guilt is suffocating though. I can’t ignore it, no matter how much I want to. Every time I feel that pull toward her, to touch her. Every time I let myself think about her in a way that isn’t just about the training or whatever the hell else we’ve been doing, it hits me like a goddamn freight train. She was Cruz’s girl.His. And here I am, having feelings for her like I’m not some piece of shit who should have kept his distance. I was supposed to be there for her, look out for her, because that’s what he would’ve wanted.
Instead, I’ve found myself drawn to her in ways that feel like a betrayal toward his memory.
But at the same time, those feelings? They’re the only thing keeping us both afloat. When we’re together, when I’m near her, there’s a kind of calm that settles over everything. It’s like I can breathe for the first time in ages, even if it’s just for a few moments. I can’t explain it, and I hate how much it messes with my head, but it’s the truth. She gets it, in a way no one else can. She gets the pain, the loss, the weight of what we’ve both lost.
It’s like I’m stuck between two things—the pull toward her, the need to let myself feel something for the first time in god knows how long, and the weight of knowing that I’m just afucking mess who doesn’t deserve to make her more of one. She deserves someone who’s whole, someone who’s not drowning in their own bullshit.
Not someone like me.
But it’s hard as hell not to reach for her. Every time she smiles, every time she looks at me with that softness in her eyes, it’s like I can feel everything I’ve been trying to bury coming to the surface. And god, it kills me that I can’t let myself have that. Ican’t. I won’t let myself hurt her the way I’ve hurt everyone else.
And yet, I can’t stay away. No matter how much I try.
I still can’t figure that part out. It was fast. It wasn’t some romantic, sweet moment. It was raw. Desperate. All the words we hadn’t been able to say, everything we hadn’t been able to feel, poured out in that one kiss. It’s as if the world dissolved around us. For a second, everything was simple. There was no grief, no past, no shit between us. There was just her. Just me. And for that moment, I didn’t feel so fucked up.
But the problem is, I can’t get rid of that feeling. That kiss was a moment of clarity for me, and I hate it. Because I know what it means. It means there’s something there, between me and Lena, something I can’t fucking deny. And I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want to feel this thing crawling up my throat every time I see her. But the more I try to push it away, the stronger it gets.
Tonight, we’re all heading to this place called The Rusty Chain. It’s a bar we usually go to after rides or a race. Tonight’s different, though. Lena’s joining the crew for the first time since Cruz left us, and Revel’s tagging along since he’s officially one of us now. Talon says the guy’s earned his patch, even if he’s still a bit of a wildcard. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I know it’s important to Lena, so I’ll keep my cool. I’m not about to let her see me act like a fucking jealous prick over something that’s out of my control.
Lena pulls her bike into the pits, the engine cutting off with a smooth hum. I’ve been watching her from the corner of my eye, trying—key wordtrying—not to let my mind wander. But, you know, clearly failing. She flips up her visor, and I walk over, giving her a little nod.
“You looked good out there today,” I say, giving her a look as she climbs off her bike. She’s got that look of quiet pride, the kind I haven’t seen in a while. It’s rare, but I know it when I see it.
“Thanks,” she replies, taking off her gloves and tucking them into her pocket.
I raise an eyebrow. “You know, you could use a bit more speed on that last corner. You’re letting off too soon. You gotta trust your throttle.”
She gives me a sharp look but doesn’t argue. “Got it,” she says with a nod.
I check my watch, a reminder of the clock ticking down. “Alright, we gotta head out if we’re gonna get there on time.”
Lena pulls off her helmet, and before I can even register it, she presses a quick peck to my lips. It’s barely a kiss, but damn, it hits me harder than it should. The salt from the ocean lingers on her skin, and for a moment, the whole world seems to slow down.
She pulls back, her grin wide, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh look, there’s that smile of yours,” she teases, a little too pleased with herself.
I can’t help but smirk. “You like what you see, huh?”
“Don’t get too cocky,” she shoots back, but her tone is playful, not serious.
I let out a small laugh, enjoying this a lot more than I expected. “I’ll drop you off at your place, let you get ready.”
She shakes her head, still grinning. “The girls are picking me up. I’ll be fine.”
