Page 19 of Endo

If I can’t fix myself yet, maybe I can at least help her.

Lena’s apartmentbuilding looms in the warm light of late afternoon, the shadows of the overhanging roof stretching across the driveway. I pull up to the curb, cutting the engine, and sit there for a moment, staring at her place. The air feels heavy, the weight of what I’m about to say pressing against my chest.

But then I see her.

She’s outside, perched on Cruz’s bike. The tarp is bunched up on the ground beside her, the sleek black frame gleaming in the fading sunlight. My breath catches as I take her in—her hands gripping the handlebars, her jaw tight, her expression a storm of emotions.

I step out of the car, shutting the door softly. She doesn’t notice me right away, too lost in her thoughts. When I finally speak, my voice is steady, but there’s a nervous edge to it.

“Lena.”

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide with surprise before narrowing, her defenses sliding into place like armor. “Reign? What the hell are you doing here?”

I take a step closer, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, trying to keep my voice steady. “Are you really going through with this?” I nod toward the bike, my chest tightening. “Racing? On Cruz’s bike? What the hell are you trying to prove, Lena?”

She slides off the bike, her movements slow but deliberate, like she’s bracing for a fight. Golden skin catches the last light of the afternoon, her long blonde hair falling in those perfect beachy waves that seem effortless, untouchable. She smells like the sea—fresh, clean, and alive in a way that twists something inside me. She’s a breath of air my lungs crave more than I want to admit, but the pain in her eyes cuts deeper than I can handle.

She stands her ground, her gaze hard and unyielding as it locks on mine. “That’s none of your business, Reign,” she says, her voice sharp enough to draw blood.

“None of my—” I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Fuck, Lena, we’ve been trying to call you for months. Months! And then today, we find out you paid for a spot at the strip and you’re planning to race on Cruz’s bike?” My voice cracks, but I push through it. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

My eyes drop to her gear—black Dainese riding pants and matching boots. Boots Cruz bought her for her birthday just a few months before he died. I know because I was with him when he picked them out for her. I can still hear him laughing, trying to guess her size and swearing I’d better not tell her how much he agonized over it.

Now, seeing her in them, it feels like a punch to the gut. I hate the way my stomach knots at the sight of her gearing up like she belongs in this world, hate even more that all I can see is the pain she’s trying to bury.

“You think I don’t know what this is?” I press, my tone sharper now. “You’re hurting, Lena. We all are and we’re all coping in our own ways. But this? Racing? You think it’s gonna fix anything?”

She steps closer, her chin tilting defiantly, and I can see the storm in her eyes. “Don’t pretend you understand,” she snaps. “You don’t know what this is for me. You don’t know what it feels like.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” I fire back, my voice dropping. “But I know Cruz. And I know he wouldn’t want you doing this—not like this. Not risking everything when you’re not ready.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a second, I think I’ve hit a nerve. But instead of backing down, she leans in closer, her words like venom. “Well in case you didn’t notice, Reign. Cruz is fuckinggone. He’s dead. So I guess what he would want, doesn’t really fucking matter, does it?”

The sting of her words is like a slap, but the worst part is, she’s not wrong. I don’t know how to reach her, not like this.

And yet, I can’t bring myself to walk away.

Her eyes blaze as she crosses her arms. “I don’t need you showing up here and acting like you can tell me what to do.”

I take another step forward, my voice lowering but turning protective. “This isn’t about control, Lena. It’s about safety. You’re not trained for this. You’ve barely ridden on your own, and now you want to race on the strip? It’s too risky.”

She scoffs, her jaw tightening. “You think I don’t know the risks? You think I’m just doing this for fun?”

“No,” I say quietly, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I think you’re doing this because you’re hurting. Because you think this will make it stop, even for a little while. And believe me, I get that. But Cruz wouldn’t want this, Lena.”

“Don’t,” she cuts me off, her voice trembling with anger. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you care about what happens to me. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?” She scoffs. “You think I don’t know you’ve been drowning yourself in booze and spending your nights beating the shit out of some poor fuck in the Iron Pit? You of all people don’t get to say a goddamn word right now.”

“I care, Lena,” I say, my voice heavy with all the things I’ve never been able to say before. “That’s why I’m here. Because if something happens to you, it’s not just you we lose. It’s Cruz, too. The last piece of him we have left.”

I swallow hard, the emotions clawing at my throat. “You think this is just about racing? It’s not. You’re family, Lena. Always have been, always will be. You’re his, and because of that, you’re ours. If you throw yourself into this and something goes wrong, it’ll tear us apart.”

I take a breath, forcing the words out. “We’ve already lost him. Don’t make us lose you too.”

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but before either of us can say more, the sound of a door opening cuts through the tension.

“Everything all right out here?” a voice calls, smooth and casual, slicing through the tension like a blade.

I turn, my jaw tightening as I recognize him instantly. It’shim. The guy I saw at the strip a few months back, riding Cruz’s bike with Lena clinging to his back.

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