Page 57 of Endo
I already know the guys don’t buy my excuse about my body not being ready. They’ve seen me at the gym, watched me put in the work. Andre hasn’t said it outright, but I can see it on his face—he’s running out of patience. Hell, I’m running out of excuses.
The problem isn’t my body. It’sme.
Memories return from the other night at the track. When for the first time in months I actually felt like I could do it. Like I was finally ready. I sat on the bike, and started it—which is more than I’ve done since the crash. But the second my hands touched the grips, the panic hit like a freight train. My chest locked up, my breathing went haywire, and all I could see was the crash—my body skidding across the pavement, the sound of shattering plastic and twisting metal. It was like I was right back there, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull myself out of it.
But now, with the season opener here, I’m losing hope I’ll ever be able to ride again.
The sound of soft footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance over my shoulder, and there she is—Lena, standing in the doorway, wearing one of my hoodies that practically swallows her whole. Her hair’s a mess, her eyes heavy with sleep, and damn if she doesn’t look good anyway.
“Morning,” she says, her voice scratchy, still thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I reply, holding up the coffee pot. “Want some?”
“Absolutely.”
I pour her a mug and hand it over, nodding toward the fridge. “There’s sugar and some of that fancy caramel cream in there. Picked it up from the market the other day.”
She raises a brow, but there’s a flicker of a smile as she cradles the mug in both hands like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. “Caramel cream, huh? Didn’t peg you as the sweet coffee type.”
I lean against the doorway, one arm resting casually above my head, the other holding my mug. I watch as she reaches for the sugar, spooning a little into her coffee before grabbing the cream from the fridge. She pours a splash into the mug, stirring it slowly.
I shrug, taking a sip from my own mug. “Nah, it’s not for me.”
Her eyes snap to me, narrowing slightly as she catches the hint in my tone. “Oh, really? So you just happen to have sugar and sweet cream stashed in the fridge for no reason?”
I take another sip from my mug, dragging it out, letting the tension stretch between us. “Maybe I’ve got a soft spot for coffee snobs.”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but there’s a flicker of something else in her expression—something softer, something she doesn’t quite want to show. “Sure, you do.”
The quiet settles over us again, her leaning against the counter, me propped in the doorway, the space between us humming with something unspoken. Not uncomfortable, but not easy either.
We stand there in silence for a while, sipping our coffee. The quiet is comfortable, the kind that doesn’t need filling.
It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not exactly easy either. There’s a weight in the air between us, something neither of us is willing to touch yet. My phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up on the counter.
Andre: Anyway, heat is at noon, I hope to see you there, kid.
I clear my throat, trying to figure out how to bring up last night without making it worse. Before I can get a word out, Lena looks at me, her eyes guarded.
“Who was the text from?” she asks, cutting me off before I can even start.
“Andre,” I say, watching her carefully. She’s using this as an out—I can tell—but I let it slide. “It’s the season opener today. First heat-’s at noon.”
She nods, taking another sip of her coffee. “You going?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Figured I should at least show up, support the team. Even if I’m not racing. They’re gunna need all the support they can get today.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, curious but cautious. “Ah, is that your way of asking me to come watch you not ride?”
There’s a teasing edge to her voice, but it’s covering something else. Something deeper. I don’t push.
“You already know you’re welcome there anytime you want. You’re Demon family, always will be,” I say, keeping my tone easy. “But I get it if you don’t. It’s not exactly a thrill to stand around in the pits all day. Especially, considering—everything.”
She smirks, the corners of her lips pulling up just enough to make my chest ache. “Guess I’ve got nothing better to do until my shift at the ocean center.”
I nod, taking another sip of coffee and letting the silence stretch between us. It’s easier this way—skimming the surface, pretending like everything’s fine. Like we’re not both replaying every second of last night in our heads.
Because if I’m being honest, I don’t know how the fuck to deal with any of it.
