Endo (Full Send #2)

Chapter 21

21

REIGN

Don’t worry babe - Ex Habit

I wake to the faint weight of Lena curled up beside me. Her head is resting on the edge of my pillow, her hair a chaotic mess spilling over the silky blue sheets my mom got me when I moved into this place. She’s still dead asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other stretched toward me. The sunlight slipping through the blinds hits her just right, softening everything. For a second, it’s almost peaceful. Almost.

Then the memories of last night hit me like a freight train, and any semblance of peace vanishes.

I run a hand over my face and sit up, careful not to jostle the bed and wake her up. My body’s heavy, stiff like I’ve been carrying something I can’t put down. My eyes flick to Lena again, her breathing slow and even. She looks beautiful and so goddamn calm, like there isn’t a storm waiting to break the moment, she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers.

I climb out of bed, and stretch before heading for the kitchen. Coffee. I need some fucking caffeine in my system before I even try to think about what the hell comes next.

The apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge and the creak of the floor under my feet. I grab the coffee grounds from the cabinet and start the machine. As it sputters to life, filling the air with the smell of coffee and sanity, I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching the slow drip of coffee as if it holds the answers to all the shit swirling in my head.

But it doesn’t.

Because no amount of caffeine’s going to untangle what happened last night.

Lena.

Fuck.

It all comes rushing back—the heat of her skin, the way she gasped my name, the way everything else just disappeared when I was with her. For the first time in a long time, something felt right . Like I wasn’t just going through the motions anymore.

But now? Now I feel like I’m standing in the wreckage of something I don’t even fucking understand.

I care about her. Hell, I’ve cared about her for years, even when I wasn’t supposed to. Even when she was…

Cruz.

The thought of him crashes into me, hard and heavy. It’s like he’s standing in the room, staring me down with that easy grin of his, the one that always came right before he called me out on my shit.

And now I’m the one who’s crossed the line.

I can’t stop thinking about him—his laugh, the way he looked at Lena, the way he trusted me. And here I am, stepping into the space he left behind, like some kind of thief.

The coffee machine beeps, and I snap out of it, grabbing the pot and pouring a mug. The steam curls up, warm and comforting, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.

There’s no denying we have something between us. But this? What we did? It’s like standing on a fault line, waiting for the ground to split open beneath me.

The worst part is, I don’t regret it.

Not a single fucking second.

I take a long sip of coffee, letting the bitterness ground me. Last night felt right, but it’s hard to hold on to that when I think about Cruz. About what he’d say if he were here.

Would he hate me for this? For wanting her the way I do?

Or would he have seen this coming?

The sound of my phone buzzing on the counter pulls me out of my head. I glance at the screen—Andre.

Andre: You coming by the pits today? I know you’re not ready to race, but I’m sure the team would still like having you here, cheering them on, if you’re up for it of course.

I stare at the text, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling that familiar knot of unease settle between my shoulders. He’s not wrong. I should go. Show my face, support the team. But the words “you’re not ready to race” hit harder than I want to admit.

The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready again.

I drop the phone on the counter and turn to the coffee pot, pouring another mug full. The smell’s enough to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts for a second, but not long enough to erase the weight sitting heavy on my chest.

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’s me .

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.

Last night felt… fuck, it felt perfect . Every goddamn moment of it. But now? Now I’m stuck between what I want and what I can’t stop feeling—the guilt, the doubt, the fucking fear of ruining something I don’t even know how to define.

Lena sets her mug down on the counter and stretches, my hoodie riding up just enough to show a sliver of cute ass in her panties. I force myself to look away, grabbing my phone and shooting Andre a quick text.

Reign: Yeah, Lena and I’ll be there. And for the love of God, keep Thorne away from the warmup playlist. Last time, he threw on some boy band shit, and I’m pretty sure half the guys were ready to crash just to make it stop.

The response comes almost immediately.

Andre: Ah shit. Alright, good looking out, kid.

I chuckle under my breath, but it’s short-lived. The thought of standing in the pits, watching the guys line up without me, is like a punch to the gut.

But I’ll show up. Because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s pretending I’ve got my shit together when I don’t.

I glance at the clock—11:27 a.m.—before turning to Lena. “We should get going if we’re gonna make it on time.”

She nods, grabbing her mug and finishing the last of her coffee. “Guess I’d better get dressed, then.”

I watch her walk back toward the bedroom, the hoodie swaying around her legs, and for a second, all the guilt and doubt fade away.

Because for better or worse, Lena’s here.

And that’s more than I deserve.

The track is alive with noise when Lena and I get there—engines roaring, people shouting. The smell of exhaust and fuel is sharp in the air, mingling with the scent of dirt and hot asphalt.

The pits are pure chaos. Bikes are scattered in every direction, half-assembled or gleaming and ready to go, while the guys dart around like they’re running on adrenaline and sheer instinct. Tools clatter against the pavement, shouted instructions mix with the rumble of engines, and every move feels rushed, frantic. Each of them is focused on their own bike, their own prep, like the world will end if they’re not ready in time. It’s a mess of activity, and yet somehow, it’s organized in its own way—controlled chaos with a purpose.

Andre spots me first, striding over with a grin that’s too damn cheerful for this early in the day. “Hey kid, glad you made it! Took you long enough, almost thought you changed your mind.”

“Traffic,” I lie, smirking as I clap him on the back.

His eyes shift to Lena, and his grin widens. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Lena, damn, it’s been a minute.”

She smiles, stepping forward and giving him a quick hug. “Hey, old man. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” he says, stepping back and giving her a once-over. “What made you decide to come?”

Her smile tightens just a little, but her voice stays light. “Cruz may not be here, but I know this is where he’d want me to be. Besides, it’s Revel’s first race, so someone’s gotta cheer him on... or at least be here to laugh when he inevitably does something stupid.”

Andre chuckles, crossing his arms. “That sounds about right. Cruz would want all of us focused, not wallowing.” He glances over his shoulder at the chaos of the pits. “As for Revel, he’s been putting in the work. Kid’s got raw talent, and now that he’s officially on the team, he’s gonna be a solid addition. His lap times have been consistent, and he’s got a knack for strategy that few riders have nowadays.”

Lena’s expression softens, nodding. “He does. And I think he’s ready. He might still be finding his rhythm, but he’s quick. He’s a dumb ass, but even I can admit he’s got potential to shave some serious time off for the team this season.”

Andre smiles, shaking his head. “Still feels weird, though, not seeing Cruz around. He’d be out here pushing everyone harder than ever, riding circles around them all, keeping the team on edge in the best way.”

Lena’s gaze dips for a moment, her voice quieter. “Yeah, he would. Cruz didn’t just lead by example—he made sure everyone stepped up. Like a real team player. Whether you liked it or not.”

Andre sighs, but his grin doesn’t waver for long. “Revel’s got some of that fire in him. It’s different, but he’s already pushing the team. His timing’s sharp, and he’s aggressive when it counts. It’s going to pay off big this season if he keeps that up.”

He glances back toward the lineup of bikes, where Revel is fiddling with his helmet, looking all business. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you being here to cheer him on. Shit, they all will.” He smirks, clearly teasing. “They’re ready for this.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Warm-ups in ten. Vipers are already running their mouths, but I have no doubt the guys will shut them up when it counts.”

“Don’t let the guys feed into it, we know the Vipers love to talk, but they ain’t got shit to back it up with, without their so called star rider,” I reply, smirking.

Andre snorts. “Ha, I’ll do what I can, but you know how they are,” he says, walking off toward the lineup of bikes, leaving me and Lena standing in the middle of the organized chaos.

I glance at her, but she’s already wandered a few steps away, watching one of the guys fine-tune his bike. She looks calm, almost at ease, but I know better. I can see the way her arms are crossed, her fingers tracing the edge of her sleeve, like she’s grounding herself, steadying something inside.

“Hey,” I say, stepping closer. “You good?”

She looks up, giving me a small smile. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

“About Cruz?”

Her smile falters for a second before she shakes her head. “About everything. But yeah, a little. It’s hard not to.”

I nod, not pushing it. The pits buzz around us—engines roaring, tools clinking, and voices shouting instructions—but for a moment, it feels like we’re in our own bubble, just her and me in the middle of it all.

The heat race is fierce. The Demons hit the track like they’ve got a point to prove, their bikes roaring as they tear through the first corner. Talon leads the pack, carving through the turns with precision, but there’s an edge of chaos to his style that keeps everyone on their toes. That’s why he’s the captain—he knows exactly when to push, and when to hold back.

It’s a dangerous balance, but it’s one that works.

Lena stands next to me, her arms crossed, eyes locked on the action. “Draygon’s killing it out there today,” she says, her voice rising above the noise of the track.

“Yeah, he’s solid,” I reply, my gaze fixed on Sayshen as he takes the second turn like he owns the damn thing.

The Heathens are hungry, though, pushing hard on their tail, trying to make a move. One of their riders gets too cocky, cuts the corner too tight, and loses control. His bike fishtails as the back tire slips, and before anyone can react, he goes down hard. The bike flips in a tangle of metal and sparks, scraping against the asphalt before it slams into the dirt.

“Shit,” Lena mutters, her fingers tightening around my arm.

I don’t respond. My stomach drops as the chaos unfolds before us. It’s a familiar feeling—the way everything slows down, the way you feel powerless to stop it. Medics rush onto the track, their sirens cutting through the noise of the bikes as the rest of the racers navigate around the wreckage.

“You okay?” Lena’s voice is softer now, concerned. I know she’s shaken up.

“Yeah,” I lie, not taking my eyes off the wreck as they clear the track. My stomach still churns, though. The medics circle him, but then a murmur ripples through the crowd as the rider starts to move. He sits up slowly, one hand clutching his side as the other is grabbed by one of the medics. With some help, he gets to his feet, unsteady but upright, and the sight pulls a collective exhale from everyone around.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter under my breath, tension easing just enough for me to unclench my fists.

Lena’s hand tightens in mine as she watches the scene unfold. Her body goes stiff, her face pale. I can see it in her eyes—the rawness of Cruz’s crash, the memories flooding back, uninvited. I feel it too, a tightness in my chest, the flashbacks creeping in. I shove them down, though. I have to. It’s not about me right now. It’s about Lena. She’s here, and I’m not going to let her struggle alone.

Crashes are part of this life, I know that. It’s inevitable in this world. Every rider on this track knows the risks, the price we pay for the thrill. But that doesn’t make it any easier to watch, especially when the memory of what happened to Cruz is still so fucking raw.

After the race, the energy in the pits shifts. The Demons did well, and Andre’s grinning like he’s on top of the world. A cooler full of beer gets cracked open, and bottles start circulating around, the sound of glass clinking as guys exchange laughs and congratulations.

Andre hands me a bottle, clinking it against mine with a grin. “I bet you can’t wait to get back out there, huh? Soon enough, right?”

I nod but stay quiet. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. Truth is, I don’t even know if “soon” is possible. Especially after watching that guy go down today. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to ride again. But right now, I’m not about to admit that to anyone, especially not Andre. So, I stay quiet, my thoughts drifting.

Over by the track, Lena’s with Revel, congratulating him on taking third place. She pulls him into a tight hug, and I can’t help but watch them. She’s laughing at something he says, her smile lighting up her face. It’s good to see her like that, but at the same time, something stirs in me. I feel that sharp edge of jealousy prickling at my skin. Revel’s out there living the life I used to.

Racing, winning, fighting for his spot.

Meanwhile, I’m here, stuck on the sidelines, trying to figure out if I’ll ever be able to get back on a bike without feeling that damn panic clawing at me.

Sayshen and Wolfe approach, breaking me out of my thoughts. Both of them slap me on the back, grinning like they just won the damn lottery.

And shit, in my eyes they did.

“Man, it’s good to see you here,” Sayshen says, grinning as he sits down next to me. “Was starting to wonder if you’d show up smelling like whiskey again.”

I roll my eyes, not in the mood for the usual teasing. “Not this time, dude. Just wanted to be here to show my support, you know.”

Wolfe raises an eyebrow. “No whiskey? Damn, are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

I shoot him a look. “I’m fine, Wolfe. Just a different vibe today, you know?”

Sayshen smirks, glancing over to the pits. “Right. Different vibe. So, what’s up with you and Lena?” he asks, nodding toward her as she’s chatting with some of the other crew members.

I shrug it off, trying to keep it casual. “Nothing. Just... here to watch.”

Wolfe’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright, man. We won’t ask. But it’s good to have you around, sober. For real.”

Sayshen nods, clinking his bottle against mine. “Hell yeah. It’s been too quiet without you out there. The team isn’t complete without you. We’re all looking forward to having you back when you’re ready.”

I nod, offering a tight smile. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon enough.”

Before I can say more, Lena walks over, and the mood shifts. She gives me a small smile before turning to the guys. “Hey, congrats on the win, guys,” she says to Sayshen and Wolfe. “You both killed it out there.”

Sayshen grins, brushing it off. “Hell yeah, it felt hella good to put those Vipers in their place. Nothing beats the rush from the season opener. It was a little weird, not having you and Cruz out there, but I mean, the whole team’s been stepping up. We’re figuring out how to work as one.”

Wolfe nods in agreement, his usual quiet demeanor still carrying a touch of pride. “We’ve got the right crew. It’s all coming together.”

Lena smiles at them both, then glances back at me. “Reign, do you mind giving me a ride to the ocean center? I’ve got to head out.”

I nod, already feeling the shift in the air between us. “Yeah, of course. Let’s go.”

We both say our goodbyes, with Lena giving the guys a final wave before we head out of the pits. As we walk toward my Mustang, I can’t shake the feeling of how strange it is, still being on the outside of it all. The noise of the pits fades behind us as we get into the car, and I focus on the drive ahead, hoping to keep the conversation light for now.

The drive to the ocean center is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. After a while, Lena turns to me, her voice softer than usual. “You okay?” she asks, her eyes searching mine like she can tell something’s off.

I hesitate, unsure if I want to open up. I’ve never been good at this, but somehow, it feels like I need to. “I’m… thinking a lot,” I say, my grip tightening on the wheel. “It’s hard, you know? The flashbacks, the panic attacks... It’s like everything keeps replaying in my head. I’m just trying to figure out how to push through it all.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, just lets me keep going. I’m not used to talking about this stuff, but there’s something in the way she’s looking at me that makes it feel like it’s okay.

“It’s just... normally when I can’t clear my head, I’d go for a ride. But right now, I can’t do that. So, I’m stuck.” I glance at her for a moment, her expression soft, understanding. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

Lena reaches over, her fingers brushing mine before she gently takes my hand in hers. The warmth of her touch is grounding, and somehow, it feels like the weight on my chest lightens, just a little.

We drive in silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s different—calm, almost peaceful. And for the first time in a while, I don’t feel so alone in all of it.