8. MONDAY — SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO #3
It was a reminder of how visible we were, but also proof. When we finally did come out, we had allies in management.
Two hours later, we were back in our hotel room, finally packing our bags to leave the island and head back to North Carolina. The adrenaline of the show had worn off, leaving us both in a state of exhausted, domestic bliss.
I sat back against the wooden headboard of the bed, my legs stretched out, watching him shove things into his luggage.
When everything was collected, he came to me, crawling over my legs and straddling my waist. He sank down onto my lap, wrapping his arms loosely around my neck and resting his forehead against mine.
It was a soft gesture, and a blinding contrast to the absolute filth of our morning.
“Creative told me to take the next three weeks off to sell the ribs,” I murmured, my hands resting lightly on his hips. “So, I guess I’m just going to be carrying your bags from city to city for the next month.”
“Or,” Silas whispered as he placed kisses against my jaw. “You could go home, settle into the house, maybe fly to Philly and finally bring your motorcycle down.”
I burst out laughing, leaning my head back against the wood.
“If I brought my bike home, you’d have a stroke.
You literally stood in the driveway in Philly, yelling: ‘You are not driving a two-wheeled death trap on the Carolina highway, Callum Kincaid. Because if you don’t die driving that thing, I’ll kill you when you come home! ’”
Silas's face flushed, though he couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips. “I was concerned for your safety. You’re reckless. And North Carolina drivers are terrible.”
A slow grin spread across my face. “Can I tell you something?” Silas narrowed his eyes. “Sure…?”
“I only bought that bike because I knew you would have absolutely hated it.”
Silas glared at me, his brow furrowing. “How does that make any sense? You bought it after we got back together.”
I shook my head. “Nah. I bought it when I was, like…twenty-eight. I’d just finished this agonizing hour-long media interview where the journalist kept repeatedly asking questions about you, our matches, and where you went.
It pissed me off so bad, I walked straight out of the arena, went to a dealership, and bought the damn thing. ”
“Because you were mad at a journalist?”
“Because,” I corrected smoothly, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “I missed you so much it felt like I was suffocating. And I knew that if I had owned a motorcycle when we were younger, you would’ve had a stroke and gone into full-send anxiety mode every time I rode it.
I bought it because I wanted to feel you hovering over me, telling me to be careful, even when you were a thousand miles away. ”
Silas let out a breathless laugh, dropping his forehead against my shoulder. “You’re insane,” he murmured. “An absolute lunatic.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged, reaching up to run my fingers through his light brown hair. “But anyways, no. I’m not going to go to Philly, and I’m sure as hell not staying on the Reed land by myself for three weeks.”
“Why? It’s our home.”
“Because your family is insane, Silas. I love them, but I cannot be trapped in a swamp with the entire Reed clan without you there as a buffer. By day three, Taylor will have a crisis over training, Colin will try to teach me how to put out a grease fire, and Maverick will force me to chop wood at six in the morning. I’m a city rat.
I need my fiancé to protect me from the scary country folk. ”
Silas laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated my chest. As he squeezed me tighter, his left hand rested flat against my shoulder, the cold tungsten of the ring pressing against my skin. But when his eyes locked on to the band, his smile slowly faded.
“I’m tired of it too, you know,” he said softly, running his thumb over the metal.
“Tired of what?”
“The hiding.” His eyes darted to mine. There was something in them that told me the last slivers of fear he’d been holding onto had finally melted away.
“I know I’m usually the one who preaches about protecting our peace.
It’s always me who wants to keep Creative out of our business.
But standing out in that ring tonight, knowing you were just behind the curtain.
Knowing how monumental our morning had been…
I just wanted to pull you out there with me.
I’m so incredibly proud that you’re mine, and I’m tired of playing this game. ”
My heart hammered against my ribs like a drummer off beat. He wanted the light just as badly as I did. Maybe even more.
I reached up, cupping the back of his neck.
“We wait a year,” I said softly, grounding the both of us back into the reality we still had to survive.
“We can get married privately, and then enjoy being newlyweds. We let you have an undisputed run without the press making it about anything else. And then we go to Tate and figure out how to tell the world.”
“A year,” Silas agreed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. “Just us.”