Endo (Full Send #2)

Chapter 12

12

LENA

O.M.W - Mellina Tey

I stand in front of the mirror, staring at the bruises on my arms, the fading purple marks from where my body slammed into the handlebars during training. They ache, but it’s nothing compared to the burning, gut-deep ache that’s still there. The one that lives inside me, waiting to flare up when I least expect it. I run my fingers over the marks, wincing as the touch sends a ripple of pain through my body.

It’s the price I pay for pushing myself.

I look at myself again in the mirror. I can’t shake the feeling that Cruz would be proud of me, too. He was always pushing me to do better, to be better at whatever made me happy. And even though he’s gone, it feels like I’m carrying a piece of him with me when I get on his bike.

But it doesn’t stop the anger that’s starting to bubble up inside me.

Reign.

God, I still don’t know how to feel about him after our last session. The way he snapped at me, the way he’s so focused, so intense. I get it, I do. He’s used to the pressure, and he’s just trying to keep me safe. But I hate the way he looks at me sometimes. Like I’m a damn accident waiting to happen.

Proud. That’s what I should be. I’ve come further than I ever thought I could. Even I can’t deny that I’m a better rider than I was last week, last month, and it’s all thanks to him. Even though every time Reign pulls me back or corrects me, a piece of me wants to lash out, I don’t. I’m not naive. I know that had he not taken me under his wing, I’d likely be dead by now.

But being around him isn’t getting any easier, if anything it’s getting harder. I just do my best to ignore it. To make it work, because part of me knows I need this.

I need him.

I pull my hair into a messy ponytail, trying to clear my head. It’s time to go. Cece and Bexley are waiting for me, and despite everything going on, I’m looking forward to spending some time with them.

A break from the weight of it all.

The Sea Side Café buzzes with a laid-back charm as I step inside, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the faint saltiness of the ocean drifting in from the open patio. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the occasional clink of cups, and the hiss of the espresso machine. Warm sunlight spills through the large windows, glinting off the mismatched wooden tables and chairs that give the place its cozy, beach-town vibe.

I spot Cece and Bexley immediately. They’re at our usual corner table near the window, framed by hanging plants and fairy lights that give the café a touch of whimsy. Bexley is leaning back in her chair, her phone in hand, thumbs flying across the screen. Her dark hair is swept into a messy top-knot bun, strands escaping to frame her face. She’s wearing a cute white crop top, her bikini straps peeking out underneath, and a pair of frayed jean shorts that show off her golden tan.

Cece sits opposite her, sipping iced tea through a straw, her lavender hair sleek and pin-straight, shimmering in the sunlight like spun silk. She’s dressed in a thin white tank top that does nothing to hide the outline of her piercings, paired with black leggings and her signature flip-flops. Casual and unapologetically Cece.

I glance down at myself as I approach, suddenly grateful for how easygoing they are. My oversized ocean center T-shirt hangs loose over a pair of cut-off jean shorts, and my trusty black Vans completing the “I had no time to dress like a normal human” look. At least the shirt smells like the laundry detergent we use at work, clean and familiar.

“There she is,” Cece says as I drop into the chair beside her.

Bexley looks up from her phone and grins. “You’re late, but we forgive you. Coffee’s already here.”

On the table in front of me sits my drink—a tall iced coffee, practically glowing with extra caramel drizzle. Exactly how I like it.

“You guys are lifesavers,” I say, taking a long sip and letting the sweet, cold brew jolt my system awake.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Bexley says with a wink, putting her phone down. “But let’s talk about the real news—me.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Shocking.”

She sits up straighter, her grin widening. “You’re looking at the newest designer officially featured in a downtown fashion show.”

“That’s amazing, Bex!” I say, genuinely thrilled for her. “Your swim line’s killing it!”

Cece raises her glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to Bexley Larson, future queen of the runway.”

Bexley waves her hand like she’s swatting away a compliment but looks pleased. “It’s just one show, but thanks, babes. And just so you know, you’re both coming with me.”

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I tease. “Having us there to ooh and ahh over you while you strut around in your bikini empire.”

“You mean our bikini empire,” Bexley corrects with a smirk. “I’m gonna need models for this event. And don’t even try to say no, Lena. You’ve got the whole surfer-girl vibe down.”

“Hard pass,” I say, laughing. “But Cece might be game. She’s practically a runway model already.”

Cece snorts. “Yeah, because everyone wants to see lavender-haired weirdos on the cover of Vogue.”

“Vogue is too mainstream for you,” Bexley shoots back. “You’d be on the cover of some edgy underground mag, looking hot and mysterious.”

I shake my head, smiling as I sip my coffee. This banter feels like a balm to my soul, a reminder of what it’s like to just be Lena, surrounded by people who know me. People who love me despite everything.

“So, Lena,” Cece says, her tone casual as she swirls her straw in her iced tea. “How’s work? Or, you know, that thing you’re doing with... What’s his name again?”

I stiffen slightly, catching the teasing edge in her voice. “Reign. And it’s not a thing. He’s just helping me out.”

Bexley glances up, her expression thoughtful rather than playful. “It just seems... I don’t know. Intense, maybe? Sayshen said Reign’s been really dedicated to training you.”

“Yeah, he has been,” I insist, shaking my head. “He’s just...” I search for the right words, coming up short. “It’s complicated.”

Cece raises an eyebrow, but there’s no smirk this time, just curiosity. “Complicated how?”

I shrug, taking a long sip of my coffee to stall. “He’s just not the Reign he was before—well, you know. He’s been through a lot, and he’s... a little rough around the edges. I guess I kind of get that. But that’s all it is. Just two people trying to deal with their own messes while helping each other out.”

Bexley leans back in her chair, giving me a small, understanding nod. “Fair enough. Just don’t let him pull you into his storm, okay? From what I’ve heard he’s been in a dark place for months. And while we all want to help him, sometimes you just have to take a step back. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding his drama to it.”

“Trust me, I know,” I say, managing a half-smile.

“Yeah, well, Revel isn’t a fan,” Cece says, stirring her iced tea casually.

I groan. “What’s Revel’s problem now?”

“He thinks Reign’s bad news.” Cece shrugs, her tone dismissive. “But then again, Revel thinks everyone’s bad news. He’s such a grumpy troll,” she adds, shaking her head.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” I warn with a grin.

Cece rolls her eyes, but there’s something different in the way she does it this time—less exasperation and more... something else.

“Troll or not, he’s got it bad for you,” Bexley says, her grin wicked as she leans forward and waggles her eyebrows at Cece.

“God, no,” Cece groans, though the way her cheeks flush ever so slightly doesn’t go unnoticed. “He’s insufferable. And I don’t date trolls.”

Bexley tilts her head, clearly not buying it. “So, are we not going to talk about how you’ve been texting him all week?”

My head snaps to Cece. “Wait, what ? You’ve been texting Revel? Since when?”

Cece glares at Bexley like she wants to throw her iced tea at her. “We ran into each other at the track when I picked up Bex the other day, and he practically forced me to give him my number.”

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “And by ‘forced,’ you mean he turned on the charm, and you just couldn’t say no?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, her face reddening.

Bexley grins triumphantly. “He hasn’t stopped texting her since. It’s been, what, five days?”

“Four,” Cece corrects quickly, then winces as if she’s said too much.

I burst out laughing. “Oh, this is gold. Cece and Revel, the troll and the queen. I’d watch that show.”

Cece scowls, though there’s no real heat behind it. “It’s not like that. He’s just... persistent. Like a stray dog that keeps following you around because you gave it food once.”

“Uh-huh,” Bexley says, sipping her drink with a smirk. “But you’re still texting him back, aren’t you?”

“I hate you both,” Cece mutters, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she’s fighting a smile.

Internally, I can’t help but think they’d be good for each other. Revel could use someone who doesn’t take his crap, and Cece, for all her fire, deserves someone who actually cares enough to put in the effort.

“Well,” I say, raising my coffee like a toast, “here’s to whatever the hell this is. May your troll texts bring you endless entertainment.”

Cece flips me off, but her laughter spills out anyway, light and unguarded. Moments like these remind me how lucky I am to have them, even if they’re all a little ridiculous. For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself relax, the warmth of their laughter and teasing wrapping around me like a safety net. This is what I’ve been missing, what I’ve been too scared to admit I need.

Later that afternoon, I find myself standing at the edge of Cruz’s grave. The weight of the day presses on me, my heart heavy with everything I’ve left unsaid.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice catching in the stillness. My fingers trace the edges of Cruz’s headstone, the cool stone grounding me as my chest tightens. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Everything feels... off without you.”

I swallow hard, blinking back the sting of tears. “I’m trying, though. I swear I am. It’s just... it’s hard. So damn hard.”

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves around me, and for a moment, I let myself believe it’s him, somehow here, listening.

“I’ve been training with Reign,” I admit softly, the words tumbling out like a confession. “I didn’t think I could do it at first. Hell, I didn’t even want to. But... I don’t know. Something’s shifting. I’m starting to feel it—the way the bike moves, the way the road feels under the tires. It’s like... I can feel you with me when I’m riding. Like you’re pushing me to keep going.”

I glance up at the sky, as if I might catch a glimpse of him there. “You’d probably laugh if you saw me the first couple of days. I was such a mess. Reign’s got this way of pushing me though, even when I want to throw my helmet at his head. He’s... different. He gets it. The pain, the weight. I think that’s why I keep showing up, even when it hurts.”

I pause, brushing away a tear that escapes down my cheek. “Today, I met up with Cece and Bexley. We went to the café, and... for the first time since you left, the world felt lighter. Just for a little while. We laughed. They teased me about Reign, of course. Cece’s been texting Revel too, and Bex is planning her line for this new fashion show she got into, and she actually wants me to model for it,” I explain, choking out a small giggle. “It was... nice. Seeing them today. I think I needed it. Like a glimpse of what normal used to be.”

I press my hand against the stone, closing my eyes. “But it still feels wrong without you. Like I’m betraying you by letting myself enjoy anything. By leaning on Reign, by laughing with the girls. I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten you, Cruz. I could never forget you.”

The silence stretches, the wind soft against my skin. “I miss you so fucking much,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “But I think... I think maybe I’m starting to see a way forward. I’m scared, though. Scared of what it means to keep going without you. But I think this is what you would want. Isn’t it?”

The tears spill freely now, but for the first time, they don’t feel like they’re suffocating me. They’re a release, a small step toward something I can’t quite name.

“I’m going to keep pushing forward, Cruz,” I whisper, my voice steadying with the promise. “Because I know that’s what you’d want. You might not be here anymore, and I can’t follow you, but I can live—for both of us.”

As I stand, brushing the dirt from my hands, a quiet warmth settles over me, fragile yet undeniable. It feels like a whisper of hope—or maybe it’s him, reminding me I don’t have to carry this alone.