13. THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: Summertime’s Close - Zach Bryan
The drive home was a suffocating nightmare. The air inside my truck was thick with unexpressed terror. It felt like trying to breathe underwater. I had given the order the second we reached the parking lot in Wilmington, my voice leaving absolutely zero room for argument.
Everyone goes back to where they’re staying. No hovering. No questions.
I needed the crowd gone and the noise to stop so I could get my fiancé behind closed doors and piece him back together.
Silas sat in the passenger seat like a hollow trembling shell of the man, who, hours before, had been laughing in the surf.
The Timeless armor had completely dissolved, leaving him silently drowning in his panic.
He clutched at his bad shoulder, eyes fixed on the dashboard, and his skin a translucent shade of gray.
Every shallow, hitched breath he managed to take felt like a physical blow to my ribs.
When we finally pulled up to the house, the truck wasn’t even in park before my hands were moving.
From his seat to our room, I moved with a silent but desperate efficiency.
I became the strength he required, stripping the salt-crusted clothes from his trembling frame, helping him into comfy clothes, and pulling the heavy duvet back.
He moved like a ghost with vacant eyes, completely detached from reality.
It was an implosion in its purest, most brutal form.
It was hard to miss while I was pulling the blankets over his chest. His phone.
I had placed it on the nightstand while helping Si, but the screen was now projecting a strobe light of catastrophe.
The notifications were constant, a flickering blur of missed calls, texts, news alerts, and post tags.
The near-continuous vibration hummed against the wood like a rattlesnake’s warning.
I grabbed it without looking at the screen. There was no need. I already knew what every dirt sheet headline would read by morning. Opening the bottom drawer of my nightstand, I shoved the phone as far back as it would go, burying it under a stack of books.
There was nothing I wanted more than to silence the world.
To build a fortress around him, even if I knew the walls were already turning to ash.
Silas was so deep in his own head, paralyzed by the phantom pain in his shoulder and the trauma of the physical altercation, he didn’t notice the digital execution being carried out on his reputation.
He didn’t see the world as it burned around us.
And for once, I was grateful for his distraction.
I wanted to keep our bubble of peace, this fragile sliver of silence, for as long as I could. Because I knew, with a bone-deep certainty that made my stomach turn, come tomorrow morning, our world would never be the same.
Eventually, the crushing exhaustion of his panic attack won, and Silas collapsed against the pillows.
His body curled instinctively toward my warmth as I slid in beside him.
He buried his face in the center of my chest, his hand gripping the fabric of my shirt like a lifeline.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him so tight my muscles ached, and just listened as his jagged breaths slowly smoothed into the soft rhythm of sleep.
My nervous system, on the other hand, was screaming.
My heart was a frantic, uneven hammer against my ribs, and my mind swirled as though a tornado and a hurricane had offspring.
The silence of the house felt loud and oppressive as I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours.
Every shadow stretched and shifted across the drywall like an evil puppet show.
With agonizing care, I reached for my own phone on the nightstand. I didn’t look at my notifications, didn’t open social media. I went straight to messages, opened a new draft, and typed one name: Evan.
Come to the house. Don’t knock. Si is asleep.
Evan read the message instantly, the little typing bubble appearing before I could even set the phone down.
Walking there now.
Gently, I disentangled myself from Silas, holding my breath as the mattress shifted. I leaned over and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, allowing my lips to rest against his skin for an extra moment. He let out a soft murmur but didn’t wake.
Wearing my faded Philly hoodie and Silas’s discarded pajama pants from yesterday, I made my way down the dark hallway. As soon as I pulled the front door open, Evan was standing there, illuminated by the pale yellow wash of the porch light.
The Evan Wilder, a man who always had a snarky comment and a smirk, stood completely rigid. Eyes sunk-in and face ashen, he looked as if he had just watched a building collapse. And that sent a fresh wave of nausea straight through my gut.
“He doesn’t know shit, does he?” Evan asked in a low, jagged rasp as he shoved his hands deeper into the front pockets of his hoodie.
I let out a long, heavy sigh, leaning my shoulder against the wooden doorframe. “No. I hid his phone. How bad is it?”
Evan shook his head, looking out toward the dark line of trees at the edge of the property.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “No idea, man. I told everyone to shut their phones off the second we got out of the alley and into the car. Everyone was recording around us. It was a never-ending sea of social media.”
I looked up at the porch ceiling, exhaustion gnawing at the little composure I had left. “What the fuck do I do?”
The question left my mouth before I could stop it, raw and completely devoid of the armor I wore so well.
“I don’t know. At this point, I’m not sure there is anything you guys can do… It’s out there.”
Hot tears filled my eyes, stinging as they blurred my vision. I felt like a monumental failure. In the moment when I was supposed to guard him, guard us, I let the world see.
In a few hours, he would wake to find our worlds had been flipped. That the two biggest names in professional wrestling were now viral on every platform, their best kept secret being dissected by millions of strangers. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to make it stop.
I looked away from Evan, staring blindly at the gravel driveway, my jaw tight as I fought to prevent the dam from breaking entirely.
“Listen, dude,” Evan said softly, “Whatever happens, you guys are going to be alright. I know this is shitty. I know it feels like the end of the world right now, but the two of you will figure it out. You’ve survived worse than a viral video.
Besides, you guys have everyone on this property backing you both. We’ve got you guys.”
I turned my face back to Evan with red watery eyes as I exhaled a shaky breath. The effort of trying to hold back was ripping me apart. I never broke; never showed weakness. Especially not in front of anyone but Silas, my walls were down.
Evan took another step up, his expression softening. “Don’t punch me in the face for this,” he said, his own voice thick, “but can I please hug you? Because you fucking need one.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t trust my voice to work, so I just nodded.
Evan closed the distance immediately, wrapping his arms around me in a tight, grounding embrace. I hugged him back without question, burying my face against his shoulder as the reality of our situation finally crushed me.
“I know I give you shit,” Evan whispered near my ear, his voice cracking. “But I love you, man. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you and Si. You’re my family.”
I pulled away after a long moment, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie, trying to reclaim some shred of composure. “We love you too, Ev.” I released a jagged sigh. Clearing my throat, I forced my brain to pivot to logistics. “What time are you heading out of here?”
“Lena and I are hitting the road by six,” he said, his tone turning practical. “I want to get her out of here before the press or the fans figure out where the gates are.”
“Do you know what time my sisters are flying out by chance?”
“Sarah said something earlier about getting out of here by noon.”
I sighed again. “At least we’ll be somewhat alone when the collapse happens. I’d rather not let them see Silas break.”
I didn’t sleep a single second. The rest of the night was spent lying rigid in the dark, my arms wrapped securely around a sleeping Silas, watching the shadows slowly turn to a mocking gray.
I didn’t dare look at my phone. I didn’t want to see the comments, the betrayal, or the corporate fallout.
All I did was hold him, listened to the steady, even rhythm of his breathing, and prayed time would just stop.
That is, until my phone started to vibrate against the nightstand at exactly 7:00 AM.
It was Tate Martin, and the second I saw the name, my blood turned to ice. Silas slept through the vibration, his body still spent from the adrenaline crash. He didn't budge an inch, didn't even skip a breath, when I carefully peeled myself out of bed.
I quietly walked out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind me, and padded down the hall in my bare feet, answering the phone as I stepped into the kitchen.
“Hello?” I said flatly.
“I’m assuming I don’t need to inform you of what’s going on?” Tate said on the other end of the line. His voice was accompanied by a long, weighted sigh. He sounded exhausted.
“Nope.” I walked over to the counter and prepped the coffee maker on auto pilot, knowing I’d need the fuel to get me through this conversation.
“And I’m assuming you know this shit is everywhere,” Tate added.
I let out a dry laugh that scraped against my throat. “I haven’t personally looked, but I can imagine.”
Tate sighed again, and a profound moment of silence passed between us. “What the hell happened, Cal?” he finally asked. Surprisingly, his tone was soft. He sounded more like a concerned parent than a corporate agent. “The video… There’s no spinning this.”