Page 19 of Bend

“Sing too?”

My stomach twists. “Sometimes.”

He doesn’t push. Just nods like it’s another piece of information filed away.

The quiet between us settles into something less tense. Still awkward and new, but not hostile.

I pick up the coffee from the tray and take a sip. It’s strong. Real coffee, not gas station sludge. It warms my chest in a way that makes me want to cry and punch something at the same time.

Sayshen pushes off the desk. “Text Bexley,” he says. “And seriously, go to lunch. It could be fun, you know.”

“I’m not not sure I’m up for the whole “fun” thing today,” I mutter.

“I get that, but honestly, you’ve already been here for weeks, if you’re not waiting for an invite into our lives, why are you still here? It’s now for never,”

He heads for the door, pauses with his hand on the knob, then looks back. “And Echo?”

“Yeah?”

His expression goes serious—steady, and grounded. “I know shit is fucked up right now, but you did the right thing, coming here.”

My chest tightens.

I want to argue. I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to say Talon made it pretty clear I’m not wanted here.

Instead I just nod, because my voice feels completely unreliable.

He leaves, and the door clicks shut behind him.

The motel room is quiet again, but the silence feels so much different now—less like isolation, more like… a pause.

A breath.

I sit back down on the bed, and pick up my phone. I open it to Bexley’s contact info while taking another sip of the coffee. It's all so overwhelming.

Bexley.

The girls.

A lunch invitation that should feel casual, fun even, instead feels like stepping into a world I’ve been circling from the outside. My thumb hovers over the keyboard. I think about Draygon’s last text. strays still eat. I think about what Sayshen said, how if I’m not waiting for an invite into their world, why am I even here.

Fuck it. I type before I can overthink it.

ME: hey. it’s echo.

sayshen told me to text you and i’m mildly afraid of what’ll happen if i don’t.

apparently you’re doing lunch am i allowed to crash it?

I stare at it for a second.

Too much?

Not enough? Well, too late.

I hit send.

Instant regret spikes, sharp and fast. I toss the phone onto the bed like it just betrayed me and grab my guitar, because at least that makes sense in my hands.