13. THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA #2
“Si has panic attacks,” I started, my voice hardening into a blade that demanded attention and respect. “And he was having one. A severe one. I wasn't about to let him sit there on a public sidewalk and drown in it just to protect a storyline, Tate. I’m not doing it.”
Tate groaned. “Look, I don’t have to tell you about the explosion that’s happening on my end. The sponsors, the network, the Board… I’m sure you can envision it well enough.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cold stainless-steel of the refrigerator. “Yeah, I can.”
“Presley is going to be calling you and Silas at eight sharp.” Tate’s voice dropped into a serious, urgent register.
“He’s in a full-on uproar, and there’s no cooling it down.
Right now, all he sees is his company has been thrown into a frenzy he can’t control.
So, when you speak to him, be guarded. Go in like you’re tiptoeing around an active fire.
He’s got a temper, and exacerbating it when he’s like this will only make shit worse for you and Si. Understood?”
I slammed my free hand against the marble counter, the sound echoing sharply through the quiet kitchen. I shook my head. “Understood,” I said between gritted teeth. The unfairness of it all was suffocating.
“I’ve got your backs, okay?” Tate assured me gently. “But we’ve gotta tackle whatever Presley is going to throw at you guys first. Make sure you record everything that fucker says. Do not take that call without it. We’ll need the paper trail. Talk soon.”
“Yeah. Talk soon,” I mumbled in response before the line went dead.
I stood there, leaning against the counter, trying to brace myself for the agonizing thought of having to wake Silas up for this.
Might as well rip off the proverbial band-aid.
With a deep breath, I finally looked at my notifications.
There were thousands of them from social media.
Tags on posts, DMs, trending alerts, and countless phone calls and texts from people I actually knew.
Then, there were the messages from Evan, Maverick, and Scott.
Evan: Dude, Presley is blowing up my phone looking for you guys.
Evan: Be ready. I think Scott and Maverick are in war prep mode.
Scott: Are you two okay? I’ve been getting phone calls from UWF people since 6 this morning!
Scott: Presley is calling both Mav and I
Scott: What the fuck happened?
Maverick: What the fuck happened last night
Maverick: Tell Silas to answer his fucking phone
Maverick: If one of you doesn’t respond in the next 30 minutes I’m coming to the house
A rush of intense, white-hot irritation hit me like a physical blow from Maverick’s texts.
Not a single word asking if we were okay.
No fatherly concern after watching a video of his son having a very public breakdown.
Just an angry demand for an explanation, and a threat to invade our space because his precious legacy was being threatened.
I closed my eyes and tried to force the anger down. It was useless to waste energy being mad at Maverick right now.
As I turned to walk down the hall and wake up Si, my hands shook so bad, I almost dropped the phone.
When I got back to the bedroom, Silas was still curled up in the exact same position I left him in.
His face was relaxed, and his breathing deep and even.
The morning sun was just starting to peek through the blinds, casting strips of golden light across the bed.
He was beautiful, peaceful, and the ball of guilt in my gut grew.
Perching on the edge of the mattress, I reached out and nudged his shoulder, gently running my fingers through his sun-kissed hair.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered in a raw octave.
Si shifted, letting out a soft, content groan as his eyes fluttered open. He saw me and smiled, the trauma from last night clearly had not fully kicked in yet. Stretching his arms over his head with a long, satisfying yawn, his back arched against the sheets.
“Why’re you up so early?” he asked with a sleep-thickened voice.
Then his eyes focused. He took note of the expression on my face: red swollen eyes, pale skin, an invisible physical weight sagging my shoulders. His smile vanished instantly. “Cal? What’s wrong?”
A jagged and broken sound escaped my chest. “I need you to sit up for me, baby.”
He immediately sat up, his pupils dilating as the memories of the alley started to rush back. The storm was about to hit, and the least I could do was to try and calm it as it did. Reaching out to hold his hand, I brought his knuckles to my lips, pressing a desperate kiss to his engagement band.
“Cal, what the hell is going on?” His voice rose, laced with an icy dread.
I paused to look at him, to commit the last few seconds of his innocence to memory, before I shattered his world completely. “Baby, last night—”
“No. Nonononono!” He cut me off, shooting up off the bed as if the mattress had caught fire. The absolute terror in his voice rang through the room like an alarm. He backed away, his hands flying to his head to pull at his hair.
“Baby…” I stood up and reached for him.
Before I could get more words out, Silas was already speaking again, his chest heaving as each painful breath forced its way into his lungs. “Please, do not tell me what I think you’re about to tell me,” he begged. “Tell me it’s not out there.”
With his words, the pleading in his voice, the terror to his tone…I couldn't contain myself any longer. The dam shattered.
Tears, which I’d been fighting so hard against since last night, finally spilled over. They were relentless, streaming down my face as I looked at Silas. Watching as the man I loved more than breathing currently begged for me to tell him his nightmare wasn’t becoming a reality.
“Si, I’m so sorry,” I choked out, a sob tearing through my throat. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Without another word, without a shout or a scream, he turned, walked into our en-suite bathroom, and shut the door softly behind him.
I dropped onto the edge of the bed from my knees giving out.
My head fell into the palms of my trembling hands as the world continued to collapse.
Our lives were about to change. Hell, they already had.
We were out, the secret was dead, and we didn’t get any kind of say in the matter.
Everything we had built together was now in the hands of strangers and executives who didn’t care if we lived or died, so long as the ratings held.
I sat there gasping for air, forcing oxygen into my unwilling lungs, trying to pull myself together the best I could. There was no time for me to break. Silas needed me, and he was the priority. Always.
Without another thought, I headed for the bathroom knocking softly and resting my forehead against the wood. When there was no answer, I nudged the handle, and it pushed open gently.
The sight of him stole whatever breath I had managed to obtain.
Silas was sitting on the cold tile of our bathroom floor, his back against the tub.
His knees were pulled to his chest, his head bowed down.
His hands were buried deep in his hair. Curled into the tightest ball, he gripped the strands as if it would hold his skull together, as small, jagged, and broken sobs fell from his lips, echoing off the porcelain.
“I wasn’t ready,” he mumbled into his knees.
Hearing how small he sounded, how timid… It broke me all over again, shattering the last remaining pieces of my heart.
I ran to his side, dropping to my knees on the hard floor, and wrapped my arms around his shaking frame. Pulling his body as close to mine as physically possible, I tucked his head under my chin and rubbed soothing circles against his back.