Page 26 of Endo

I set the iced coffee on the bench and lean against the metal fence, watching the empty track. It’s peaceful here, but that peace doesn’t last long. The sound of a bike revving up from down the road reaches my ears, and I turn to see her pull in.

Lena.

She’s not wearing her racing suit today, just a black leather jacket and skinny jeans, her boots clicking against the pavement as she slows down to a stop. Her hair falls in messy waves around her down her shoulders, sun-kissed strands catching thelight. There’s something about the way she carries herself, the confident tilt of her chin as she takes off her helmet, the glint in her eyes that makes my heart race every damn time.

I watch her as she dismounts, shaking out her hair, her movements fluid and practiced. She glances at me, and our eyes meet, but it’s not the same as before. There’s a barrier between us now, a distance I didn’t expect.

Not with her. Not with anyone.

She walks over, her eyes landing on the tray of coffees on the bench, as a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “I hope you loaded it up with sugar,” she says with a smirk, her tone teasing. “Extra caramel, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Of course.” I hand her the iced coffee, feeling my chest tighten for reasons I can’t explain.

She takes it, glancing at me with that little challenge in her eyes. “So, you’re gonna treat me like a rookie again today, or are we moving on to the good stuff?”

The way she says it, with that edge of cockiness, hits me hard. I remember the way she snapped at me last time, the way she pushed herself so damn hard, and I don’t want to see her make the same mistakes today.

“I’m treating you like someone who’s still learning,” I say, my tone firm but lighter this time. I sip my coffee, eyeing her over the rim as I add, “Unless you’re secretly a pro and just forgot to mention it?”

She leans against her bike, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Secret pro? Totally. My last championship trophy is collecting dust at home.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Next to your signed poster of me, right?”

She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like I’ve caught her in the act. “You found out! Damn, now I’ll have to burn it.”

I chuckle, but it fades as I glance toward the track. “I’m just saying, don’t get cocky out there. This isn’t something you just wing.”

She tilts her head, feigning offense. “Are you calling me a rookie, Coach?”

I grin despite myself. “If the helmet fits…”

She huffs, rolling her eyes, but there’s a flicker of amusement there. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you’re still here,” I fire back, arching a brow. “So what does that say about you?”

She laughs, and for a moment, the tension eases. But as she moves to put her helmet on, my gaze lingers, my thoughts shifting back to why we’re really here.

We get started, and I can feel the weight of every moment between us. The air is thicker now, full of unsaid things. I can’t stop watching her, noticing the way her body moves with the bike, the way she leans into each turn. She’s good, but there’s something missing—something I can’t put my finger on.

I don’t want to admit it, but I’m worried. The thought of her pushing too hard, making a mistake, it gnaws at me every second. I know I’m supposed to be calm, collected, a teacher. But with her, it’s different.

“Lena, ease off the throttle,” I say through the Bluetooth headset, keeping my voice steady despite the edge of panic clawing at my chest.

“I’ve got it, Reign,” she snaps back, her tone tight.

The sharpness in her voice doesn’t calm me; it only makes the knot in my stomach tighten. I watch her lean into the next turn, pushing harder than she should.

“Lena, you’re coming in too fast,” I say firmly, trying to keep the worry out of my tone.

“Relax,” she mutters, but then I see it—the back tire wobbles, skidding slightly as she overdoes it.

“Brake! Lean into it!” My words are sharp, cutting through the connection, helpless to do anything but watch.

She fights for control, her body shifting, but the bike teeters dangerously close to the edge of the track. I grip the railing at the edge of the pit, my pulse pounding in my ears, helpless to do anything but watch as she wrestles the bike back into line.

When she finally straightens out and comes to a stop near the far end of the track, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I jog toward her, as she pulls off her helmet, her face flushed and eyes wide with adrenaline.

“What the hell was that?” I shout, the words flying out before I can soften them. “You could’ve wiped out!”

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