Page 71 of Endo
The trail leading through the dunes is a mess of swaying sea oats and beach grass, the kind that brushes against your legs and gets tangled in your thoughts. The sound of the waves grows louder with each step, a rhythmic crash that feels like it’s syncing with my pulse. The humid air smells like salt and sand, a nostalgic punch to the gut, dragging me back to moments I’m not sure I’m ready to face.
Reign walks beside me, his hands in his pockets. He’s quiet, his gaze sweeping over the path ahead like he’s trying to figure out why I brought him here. I haven’t told him yet, not the full story. Part of me wonders if he’ll think it’s stupid, but another part—the part that’s been unraveling around him—needs him to see this side of me.
The ocean in front of the shack stretches out like it’s daring me to come closer, the waves glittering under the late afternoon sun. Reign stops beside me, his dark eyes scanning the scene. His shoulders relax slightly, the tension that seems to follow him everywhere easing just a fraction. “It’s... peaceful,” he says after a beat, his tone low.
“Yeah,” I reply, swallowing hard. The memories hit me like a riptide, dragging me under before I can stop them. “Cruz and I used to come here. This was...ourplace.”
Reign doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his gaze shift to me. It’s heavy, questioning, but not judgmental.
“There was a night,” I continue, my voice trembling just enough to annoy me, “when we found turtle hatchlings. Tiny little things, barely bigger than my palm. They were struggling to get to the water, and we stayed for hours, making sure they made it. Scared off birds, kept crabs away. Cruz even named one of them ‘Turbo.’”
Reign’s lips twitch, the hint of a smirk appearing. “Turbo?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling despite myself. “He swore that one would win the hatchling Olympics if there was such a thing. That night... I think it’s when I realized I wanted to do what I do now. Work at the ocean center, help creatures like them.”
The smile fades, replaced by a dull ache in my chest. “It hurts, though,” I admit, my voice quieter. “Because I couldn’t save Cruz. I’ve spent my life trying to save the ocean, its creatures, but the one person I loved most... I couldn’t.”
Reign’s hand brushes mine, a brief touch that feels intentional but unassuming. “That’s not on you,” he says, his voice steady but firm. “You couldn’t control that.”
I nod, even though the guilt never really leaves. I glance at him, taking in the way he’s watching the waves, his jaw tight like he’s holding something back. It feels strange to share this part of me, to bring him here, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels... like it fits.
“Not gonna give me a hint about why we’re here?” he asks, breaking the tension with a raised brow and a smirk.
“You’ll see,” I reply, my own smirk creeping back. “Just try to keep up.”
We continue toward the shoreline, and I point to a driftwood log half-buried in the sand. “That’s where we sat. Cruz and I. We watched until the last little guy made it to the water.”
Reign studies the log, then glances at me. “And now you’re bringing me here.”
“Yeah,” I say, sitting down on the log and gesturing for him to join me. “Because I’m tired of this place being just about him and the memories I have of him and I here. I want it to mean something else too. I need it to, otherwise I can’t escape here, not without feeling the emptiness he left behind.”
Reign doesn’t say anything right away, just glances at me before looking back at the ocean. After a moment, he sits besideme, his knee bumping against mine. “I get that,” he says finally. “Sometimes you’ve gotta let shit... I don’t know, shift?”
“Evolve,” I correct, giving him a small smile.
“Right. That,” he says, smirking a little. “Look at you, throwing out the big words.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head as I pull my knees to my chest. The sound of the waves crashing fills the space between us, their steady rhythm calming me in a way I didn’t realize I needed. “This place has always made me feel small,” I admit, staring out at the endless expanse of water. “But not in a bad way. More like... it reminded me there’s something bigger than me, bigger than all the shit I’m carrying.”
Reign nods, his eyes fixed on the ocean. “Yeah. I get that. Places like this... they make you breathe. Whether you want to or not.”
I glance at him, surprised at how well he seems to understand. “Exactly.”
For a second, his gaze meets mine, and it’s like he sees everything I’m not saying. The vulnerability of it makes my chest tighten, but I don’t look away. His expression softens, the sharp edges of his usual sarcasm replaced by something quieter, more real.
“But why’d you bring me here?” he asks, his voice low, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment.
I hesitate, my gaze drifting back to the waves. “I thought... maybe it could help you, too,” I say quietly. “It helped me. It still does. And I wanted to share it with you.”
His brows furrow slightly, like he’s trying to process what I just said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I reply, picking at a piece of driftwood beside me. “But I wanted to. You’ve been carrying so much, Reign. Maybe this place could be an escape for you, too.”
His brows draw together, and for a second, he doesn’t say anything. Then, with a small nod, he mutters, “Thanks,celona mou.”
I glance at him, my curiosity piqued. He’s called me that before, and I’ve let it slide, but now, sitting here with the waves crashing and the sun dipping low, I want to know. “What does that mean?” I ask, turning to look at him.
The corners of his mouth lift into a small smile, and he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “It’s Greek.”
