Endo (Full Send #2)

Chapter 17

17

REIGN

I’ll Be Damned - gavn!

I can’t fucking sleep.

Not because I’m not tired—my body feels like it’s been put through a goddamn grinder, but my head won’t shut the hell up. It’s stuck on her.

Lena’s smile keeps flashing in my mind, like a fucking highlight reel I didn’t ask for. That little spark in her eyes when I told her she did good today, and the way her cheeks went pink like she wasn’t used to hearing it.

Shit, it was cute. Too fucking cute.

Then there was the shirt. My shirt. She looked… I don’t even know how to describe it—soft? Fucking perfect? Comfortable as hell? The sleeves were way too long, and it hung off her like she was drowning in it, but that just made it worse. Made me want to grab her, pull her closer, keep her in it forever.

She smelled like me, like oil, grease, and sweat—shit, I wouldn’t think twice about it most days. But on her? It did something to me. Seeing her in my shirt shouldn’t have hit me like a goddamn punch to the chest, but it did. It was like she was wearing a piece of me, and fuck if that didn’t mess with my head.

And the way holding her made me feel? Fuck, I’m not even sure how to put that into words. She just fit. Like every inch of her belonged there, against me. Her hands clung to my shirt, hesitant but not letting go, like she wasn’t sure she should but couldn’t stop herself.

Hell, I couldn’t stop myself either.

Today was different. It wasn’t just about her training. No, today was something else. Something entirely new, for both of us. And it’s driving me fucking insane because I can’t stop thinking about it. About her. About how good she felt in my arms and how badly I want to feel it again. Fuck.

I can still feel her lips on mine. Shit.

My chest tightens when I think about the kiss, or the warmth of her pressed against me. Everything about it felt natural, like it was meant to happen. Her soft sigh against my mouth still echoes in my mind, the way I wanted to pull her closer but held back, like I was afraid she’d disappear if I held on too tight.

I didn’t expect it to feel like that. Didn’t expect her to feel like that.

And then there’s Cruz. The gnawing guilt that’s been eating away at me, keeping me awake. I still can’t wrap my head around it. How the fuck can I feel like this about her? I’m betraying him, aren’t I? He was my best friend. I’m supposed to have his back, not… feel what I feel every time she’s near.

I feel like a piece of shit.

She’s his girl. She’s the one person he trusted above everyone. And here I am, unable to get her out of my head.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me?

I glance at my phone. It’s sitting on the nightstand, the light from the screen glaring in the dark room. Without thinking, I grab it.

Reign: Hey, sorry, I know it’s late, but I just wanted to let you know that you did good today.

I type out the message quickly, my fingers hesitating slightly over the keys. I don’t expect a reply. I shouldn’t even send it, but I do anyway.

The buzz of my phone starts almost immediately. I look at the screen, expecting to see the usual “Okay, thanks” or some half-hearted response. But instead, it’s a full message from her.

Lena: Did good today? Are you sure you’re talking about me? I don’t remember signing up for a compliment.

I laugh, shaking my head. I know she’s always got something smart to say.

Reign: Oh, I’m definitely talking about you. It’s a rare sight, watching you actually listen to me.

Lena: Oh please. I listen all the time. I just don’t always take your advice.

Reign: Mmhmm, sure you do. I’ll take it as a win anyway.

Lena: Fine. But don’t get used to it. You won’t catch me being this nice to you every day. You free to meet up tomorrow? I really want to get those turns down before the next race.

My stomach twists when I read her message. Tomorrow. Shit, I’m ready to be whenever, wherever—any time she needs me.

Reign: Sure, let’s meet at the track after lunch. I’ll grab the coffees. You want your usual, or should I surprise you?

Lena: Hmm, surprise me, if you think you can handle it. I like a challenge.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before I hit send. I didn’t expect to be this excited to see her again. But the thought of being around her, helping her—hell, just being near her again—it makes something inside me stir. Something I’m not sure I can control.

Reign: Oh, I’m up for it. We’ll see how well you handle the surprise.

I push my phone aside and text Jen next, letting her know I won’t be at my rehab appointment in the morning.

Reign: Won’t be at rehab tomorrow. I’ll do my exercises on my own. Promise.

I don’t need her breathing down my neck. I can barely stand myself as it is.

I throw the covers off and drag myself out of bed, not even bothering to change out of the T-shirt I’ve been wearing all day. I’m not hungry, but I know I need to eat something. Microwave meal. Protein shake. Anything to fill the gap, to keep me moving. But tonight, it’s not numbness clinging to me—it’s something else entirely. Something that feels… lighter. Almost good.

I grab the food, shove it in the microwave, and let it heat while I pace around the small living room. For once, it’s not because I’m anxious, but because I can’t sit still. My mind’s buzzing with something other than the dark shit that always seems to loom over me.

Lena.

The way she looked at me today, her determination, her fire. The way she trusted me to guide her, to be there. It’s fucking addicting. And knowing not only that I’ll see her again tomorrow, but that it was her idea—hell, it’s the best thing I’ve felt in a long time. It’s like I’ve got a reason to get up tomorrow, to keep moving.

I eat, not even paying attention to the taste, my main focus on the thought of tomorrow. Training with Lena. Helping her get better. Watching her push herself, her stubbornness dragging her through. It makes me want to push myself too, to be better.

I plop down on the couch, the TV buzzing in the background. But this time, the silence isn’t crushing. The guilt and shame—they’re still there, but they’ve faded into the background, drowned out by something I didn’t think I’d feel again.

Hope.

It’s her. She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing, doesn’t know the way she’s pulling me out of this darkness piece by piece. I never expected her to be the one who could heal me, the one who could make me want to feel alive again. But that’s exactly what she’s doing.

She’s giving me purpose.

I shake my head, a small smirk tugging at my lips as I set the empty plate aside. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it. For the first time in forever, I’m looking forward to something—to someone.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

I wake up later than usual, the sunlight streaming through the curtains telling me it’s almost noon. For the first time in months, I slept peacefully—no nightmares, no tossing and turning. Just quiet. It’s a strange feeling, waking up without the weight of the world pressing down on me. Peaceful, almost.

I shower quickly, grab a protein bar, and hit the road. On the way to the track, I stop for coffee, knowing it’ll win me points with Lena. That girl loves her coffee sweet. So sweet it’s practically dessert in a cup—and she doesn’t sneak it.

She fucking owns it.

I order my usual black coffee, then take a second to decide on hers. Finally, I settle on something over-the-top: an iced caramel latte with extra caramel drizzle, vanilla syrup, whipped cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. It’s indulgent, but it fits her—bold, unapologetically sweet, and impossible to ignore.

When I pull into the track, the sun is high in the afternoon sky, casting long shadows across the asphalt. The place is quiet, the heat shimmering off the pavement, just the way I like it. The guys are out of town for a fundraiser, so it’s just me and Lena today. Perfect.

The sound of her car pulling in snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn to watch as she steps out, the golden sun catching her in just the right way. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a snug black tank top under a lightweight flannel, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It’s simple, but she makes it look effortlessly good.

Her hair’s pulled back in a loose ponytail, golden strands catching the sunlight like they’ve been dipped in honey. A few loose pieces frame her face, messy but in that perfectly Lena way that makes it look intentional.

There’s something about the way she carries herself, too. Confident, but not in a loud way. It’s in the way her shoulders are back, her steps purposeful, like she’s ready to take on the world—or at least this track.

Her eyes meet mine as she walks toward me, and for a split second, I swear she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. There’s a flicker of something there—a mix of determination and amusement, like she’s daring me to keep up.

“Morning,” she calls out, her voice light but teasing.

Her tone matches the small smirk tugging at her lips. It’s the kind of expression that says she’s already winning, even if I don’t know what the game is.

I clear my throat, holding up the coffee cups as my excuse for staring. “Coffee, as promised.”

She raises an eyebrow, taking hers and giving me that look—that mischievous, sharp look she’s perfected. “Caramel latte with extra everything? You know me so well.”

“You’re easy to figure out,” I shoot back, but my grin gives me away.

She takes a sip, her eyes widening like I’ve just handed her the holy grail of coffee. “Okay, you’re forgiven for whatever smartass comment you were gonna make. This is perfect.”

Her face softens as she says it, and for a second, I let myself take her in—the way her lips curve around the straw, the little furrow of concentration as she savors the taste.

Damn it, Reign. Pull it together.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask, nodding to the brown paper bag in her hand, needing a distraction.

“Bagels,” she says, tossing it to me. “Figured you’d skip breakfast. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t keel over.”

I laugh, pulling one out and breaking off a piece. “Guess we’re even then.”

Her smirk softens into something almost fond, and she leans against the car next to me, sipping her coffee and watching the track like she owns the place.

She doesn’t know it, but she lights up the whole damn space just by being here.

She joins me, the two of us eating in comfortable silence. For once, there’s no weight, no heaviness hanging between us. Just the buzz of the day ahead.

After we’re done, she suits up, and we hit the track. She warms up first, her movements confident and sharp as she takes a few laps. I watch, sipping my coffee and feeling that old fire flicker to life again.

When she slows down and pulls up to where I’m standing, I lean against the fence. “You’re still cutting into the turns too soon,” I tell her. “Let the bike carry you through a little longer.”

She sighs, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say.”

“Don’t worry,” I tease. “You’ll get it. Maybe.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Expert. If you’re so good, show me how it’s done.”

I hesitate for a second, but shake my head. “Not today. This is your time.”

Her eyes narrow as she smirks. “You’re full of shit, but I’ll let it slide—for now.”

The playful edge in her voice makes me grin, and I wave her back to the track. She takes off again, this time nailing the turns with more confidence. Watching her ride makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in months.

After a while, she pulls over and hops off the bike, pulling her phone out of her pocket when it buzzes.

“It’s work,” she says after a moment. “One of the turtles I’ve been helping is getting released today, and Chloe is sick so they need another hand.”

“That’s awesome,” I say, meaning it. “You should go.”

She hesitates, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you hanging.”

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. Go do your thing.”

For a second, she looks like she wants to argue, but then she nods. “Thanks, Reign. I’ll see you later.”

“Good luck, Lena.”

She waves as she heads back to her car, and I watch her go, feeling lighter than I have in months.

But as the sound of her car fades, one thought stays with me:

Today feels like the start of something new.

When I think she’s gone, I make my move.

I don’t know why I even bother thinking I can do this, but I’m doing it. There’s a part of me that’s desperate to feel normal again. To feel like myself. The knot in my stomach tightens as I approach my bike, like it’s some kind of challenge I’m scared to face, but here I am, about to take it head-on.

I strap on my gear, piece by piece. Jacket first, then the helmet. The sound of the buckle clicking into place almost feels final, like there’s no turning back now. The leather feels thick and heavy against my skin, but it’s the only thing that gives me any sense of control. Last, is the gloves. I slide them on, and start the engine, and for a split second, it’s like the world goes quiet. Just me and the roar of the bike beneath me. My hands grip the handlebars, shaking slightly, and my heart beats harder. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The moment where I get back on the bike and prove to myself that I’m still in control of something.

But before I can shift into gear, the flashbacks hit me like a fucking freight train.

The crash. The pain. The feeling of the bike slipping beneath me, the world tilting at that impossible angle.

Everything around me fades. The bike’s rumble dies down, and it’s like the world starts spinning too fast. My hands are glued to the handlebars, but I can’t move them. My chest is tight, my breath shallow. I’m choking.

Fuck.

The panic swarms me like a tidal wave, swallowing everything in its path. The weight of it presses down on me—flooding my head with noise, drowning out everything else. My head feels like it’s going to explode. I can’t breathe. My hands are locked to the bike, but it feels like the only thing stopping me from falling apart.

Then I hear her.

“Reign!”

It cuts through the panic like a knife, and I turn to see her rushing toward me, all soft, worried lines on her face. Her expression is carved with concern, and for a second, I feel like I’m sinking all over again.

She’s fast. Too fast. Her hands are gentle but firm when she pulls me off the bike, like she’s afraid I’ll shatter if she’s not careful. And hell, maybe I will.

“You’re okay,” she says, her voice soft but steady, like she’s trying to make sure I hear her over the noise in my head. I can’t hear her though. The panic is still fucking loud, ringing in my ears like static.

She hits the kill switch on the bike before removing my helmet slowly, and I squeeze my eyes shut. The last thing I want is for her to see me like this. Weak. I fucking hate it. I’ve always been the one people depend on. I’ve always been the one who keeps it together.

But not now.

“Let me help you,” she says again, and this time, I don’t fight her. I don’t want to be alone. The words stick in my throat, but I can’t push her away. I can’t.

Her hands are steady as they help me remove the rest of my gear, and every movement feels like it’s unraveling something inside of me. I’m slipping. The pressure I’ve been holding together for so long is starting to crack.

“You’re okay,” she whispers, almost like she’s trying to convince both of us. Her words hit me in the chest, but all I can feel is that the panic is still there, still hanging on.

I feel like the weakest person in the world. I can’t even get back on my own bike without falling apart. I’ve failed her. I’ve failed myself.

“Let me get you out of here,” she says, the words soft but firm. There’s no arguing with her tone. It’s not a suggestion; it’s a demand.

“The turtles,” I murmur, the memory of her rushing out of here just minutes ago still fresh in my mind.

“There will always be more turtles to set free, Reign,” she says gently, her voice soft and full of sincerity. “But right now, you need me more than they do.”

I nod, feeling like a fucking mess. I don’t even know how I manage to stand up, but I do. We walk to her car in silence. It’s not awkward—just heavy. But there’s something in her presence, something in the way she doesn’t let go of me, that makes the weight a little lighter.

When we get to the garage, I leave my bike parked next to Cruz’s. The sight of it makes my gut twist. God, I miss him. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

But as much as I want to stay there, to keep drifting back into the past, I can’t. Not anymore. Not when I have to get through the next moment, the next hour. The next day.

And with her beside me, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I can.