Page 22 of Bend

“That’s… mildly terrifying,” I deadpan.

She laughs, loud and unapologetic. “Relax, mija. We’re not scary.”

Lena takes a slow sip of her drink, eyes sliding toward Cece over the rim. “Revel would strongly disagree.”

Cece doesn’t even look at her. “Revel is dramatic.”

“Mm,” Lena hums. “More like Revel is seriously fucking obsessed.”

Cece finally turns her head, slow and deliberate. “Yeah well, if he thinks I’m falling for his tricks, he is delusional.”

Bex stands next, her energy is a bit quieter but steady and welcoming. She steps into my space gently, like she’s also aware this could go either way and honestly, I’m so thankful I’m not alone in being nervous.

“I’m really glad you came,” she says, hugging me. Her hug is different, in a good way. Softer, and more grounded. “I know this probably feels like a lot.”

It does. More than I expected.

“Yeah,” I admit, shrugging like it’s no big deal even though my chest feels weirdly tight. “I guess it kind of does.”

Lena stands next, all sun-kissed and effortless, giving me a quick hug that’s warm without being overwhelming.

“I’m Lena,” she says. “And I promise, despite what you may have heard, we’re normal.”

“Well,” I smirk, “that remains to be seen.”

They laugh, and thank god, it’s not that tight, polite kind people use when they’re trying to be nice. It’s real. Easy. Like I just tossed the ball and they volleyed it right back without thinking too hard about it.

Okay.

Good.

I sit, setting my helmet carefully on the empty chair beside me. My fingers linger on it for a second longer than necessary, like it’s some kind of emotional support object and not just expensive head protection.

Get it together, Echo.

I’m trying not to overthink the fact that I just willingly walked into a table full of women who know exactly who I am. Who know the drama. The history. The part where I showed up and detonated everyone’s emotional stability.

And yet, they’re smiling at me like I didn’t just stroll into their lives with a plot twist.

Honestly, I expected at least one subtle interrogation. Maybe a “sooooo” followed by intense eye contact and a fork clinking against a plate. Instead, I’m getting hugs and normal conversation.

Either they’re incredibly secure women…

Or this is the most well-organized ambush in history.

I straighten slightly in my chair.

If someone pulls out a printed timeline of my existence, I’m leaving.

The ocean is directly in front of us. Waves rolling in steady, predictable lines like even they’ve got their life together. A dog is running around by the shore, chasing absolutely nothing like it’s on a mission. A few feet away, two kids are screaming and throwing sand at each other while their parents pretend they don’t see it because no one’s bleeding yet.

A waitress walks over a minute later, blonde hair twisted up in a clip, and an effortless smile like despite how busy this place is, she loves her job.

“Hey, ladies,” she says brightly. “The usual?”

“Hey, Marisol,” Lena says, smiling like this is their weekly board meeting.

Cece lifts her chin dramatically. “Miss us?”