Page 12 of Bend

DRAYGON: you alive?

My mouth instantly tugs into a smile.

Which honestly annoys me, because it shouldn’t be that easy.

And yet, I type back.

Because well, as much as I wish I did, I have absolutely zero self control.

ME: nope. i died. this is my ghost texting you.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Then:

DRAYGON: weird. last time I checked, ghosts can’t use iPhones. don’t their hands just like go through the screen?

you eat yet?

I stare at the screen for a second longer than I need to, thumb hovering.

Draygon always texts like that—practical things disguised as casual conversation. Food. Water. Did you home safe? Do you need anything? Like he’s checking the locks without making it a big deal.

Truthfully it gives King energy, but quiet about it.

He’s been my only consistent contact since I got here. However, not in-person. Despite how persistent he is, I’ve managed to dodge that since the night at the bar. I’ve made more excuses to avoid seeing him, than anything else in my entire life. And so far, somehow it’s worked. I’ve managed to keep it to screens and distance all while pretending I’m not thinking about his hands and how fucking good they felt on me.

Which is stupid. Beyond stupid actually. Considering I know who he is, and he has no fucking idea who I am.

I knew the moment we locked eyes across the bar, and yet, I still let Isla drag me over anyway. I still allowed myself to eye fuck him like he wasn’t completely off limits.

He’s a Speed Demon, and from what I can tell from stalking on social media, one of my brother’s best friends. Which immediately makes him off limits. Completely unreachable, like across the biggest fucking line every created.

And yet, like a total fucking slut, I made out with him anyway.

In a bathroom, like an impulsive idiot.

I feel the guilt creep up again, the familiar sting behind my ribs.

He thinks I’m just… Echo. Some girl passing through with “family stuff” she won’t talk about. He has no idea he’s been texting the baby sister his teammates didn’t even know existed.

Maybe I should've told him? There hasn’t been a single day since that night where we haven’t spoken, and yet I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.

Because if I’m honest, I don’t feel like it’s my secret to tell.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

It should be Sayshen and Talon who decide who and when to tell people, if ever. If they want the team to know, that’s their call.

Their mess. Their father. Their family.

Family.

The thought makes my stomach twist every time.

I open my phone and type out a reply to Draygon before I let the thought take root.

ME: fine. I’m alive, and no I haven’t eaten yet but i’m working on it.

DRAYGON: good.