Chapter 21
“Thanks, Noah,” I say, my thumb hovering over the red circle on the bottom of the phone screen.
Noah Callahan, the former show producer who caught the attention of Chelsea Rafferty and swept the Darling of Wrestling off her feet, was promoted to Chief Content Officer at the beginning of this year.
I’m surprised they waited that long. Everyone was sure he’d move up the ladder not long after he and Chelsea got married two years ago, but he remained only a producer until recently.
Not that it wasn’t deserved. Noah has been an integral part of some of the changes backstage and on screen, which have resulted in an uptick in views over the last six months.
Needless to say, things are looking good for Noah Callahan, and I’m lucky enough to be on his radar when it comes to stacking the women’s division.
“This will be better,” he says, and I can imagine the way he’s nodding his head on the other side of the phone. Who he’s trying harder to convince right now, I’m not sure.
“Yeah, you’re right, this is much better.” A soft chuckle is his only reply. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Sunday,” he agrees. “Oh, and Savannah? I really need you to sign that contract before then. Don’t forget.”
I toss my phone on the island and let my head fall into my hands.
I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the phone call I just had.
Did he think I wouldn’t find out? Or at least put the pieces together?
As soon as Noah told me Creative had decided to go a different direction with my upcoming storyline, I knew exactly what had transpired in the last forty-eight hours.
I had received two different calls on Wednesday morning—two days ago—following our return from Thanksgiving, where things hadn’t exactly gone to plan…Thank you, Debra.
I digress. John’s mother is just another thing to add to the list of things that have irritated me lately.
The first call I got on Wednesday morning was from Noah.
He wanted to know if I had given any more thought to my future with the company.
My contract was set to expire at the beginning of December—this coming Monday, actually.
We’d been going back and forth for the last month, renegotiating, and it seemed that an agreement had finally been reached.
I told him to send it over, and I’d take one final look at it before signing.
It’s been sitting in my email ever since.
The second call was from Brian, the new head of our Creative team, and Xander Collins, the head of Talent Relations.
With confirmation from Noah that I’d be re-signing, they wanted to discuss a new storyline—a love storyline—and with it came a new title opportunity.
“They want to put me back in the title picture,” I said, walking into the gym after the phone call.
“That’s great,” John said, straddling the weight bench, but his eyes were locked on whatever message he typed on his phone.
I leaned against the wall, deciding how to approach the second part of the conversation.
John wasn’t going to be happy, I knew that, but this was business, and if this was my chance to win another title, I was going to take it.
“That’s all they had to say?” he asked, but still didn’t look up from his phone.
I took a deep breath. “No…They, uh, they want to put me in a new storyline…with Drake.”
John’s fingers froze, and finally, he looked up with a furrowed brow. “A storyline with Drake?” I nodded. “As in a love storyline?” Another nod. “You’re fucking kidding me. Savannah, you can’t—”
“John, I know you don’t like him, but I don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t have a choice? You always have a choice. Why in the hell would they put you in a storyline with him, of all people?”
“He just came back, they want to give him a push, and—”
“There are plenty of other women they can throw at him. Plenty who’d be more than willing to throw themselves at him. They can get one of them to do it, because I’ll be damned if my girlfriend is going to be on the arm of Damian-fucking-Drake.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a story. You know it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Savannah, this isn’t up for debate. You’re not doing the story.” John planted his hands on his hips, face pulled into a thin line, and his jaw clenched so tightly that I swore he was going to chip a tooth.
Who in the hell was he to tell me what I could and couldn’t do?
“In case you’ve forgotten, I already have a father, I don’t need another one,” I said, pushing off the wall. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do. This is my job, and if anyone should understand that, it’s you, Brooks.”
His jaw clenched even tighter.
“I have to go meet Rae. She wants to try out some new stuff before Sunday.” I wanted him to say something—anything—that would prove he was going to let it go, that he wasn’t going to hold onto this, but he didn’t.
With a slight scoff, I shook my head. “I didn’t come here to ask for your permission, John.
I just wanted you to hear it from me, before Drake tried to start shit with you,” I said, and walked out the door.
I don’t know why his reaction irked me so much, because I knew it was coming.
The problem wasn’t that they wanted to put me in a “romantic” storyline with someone else; the problem was who the story was with.
It’s no secret that he and Drake dislike each other—and that’s a nice way to put it.
Sure, they can do what they have to for work, but you’ll never catch them pretending to get along, even for the sake of a match.
They’d rather call everything in the ring.
Maybe they’ll set up a few spots ahead of time, but for the most part, they ignore each other until they have no choice.
And I’ve always believed that’s why they have some of the best matches of any duo on the roster.
We haven’t talked much since I left the gym that afternoon—John having multiple media days in a row didn’t help, either—but this morning he walked into the kitchen with a new lease on life and a thousand-watt smile.
John wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed a long kiss to my temple.
“I’m sorry for being an ass,” he whispered.
“I know I have a lot of making up to do. Let me take you to dinner tonight and then bring you home so I can show you how sorry I am. Please?”
It wasn’t the apology I wanted, but it was enough.
And I got at least two more as the day progressed.
This wasn’t normal. We didn’t fight like this, and I was ready to put it behind us until I saw Noah Callahan’s name appear on my phone twenty minutes before my boyfriend was supposed to be home from his workout with Brody.
Now, the garage door opens from the other end of the house, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady the growing fire rising in my veins. Don’t freak out. Just talk to him about it…Maybe it wasn’t even him. Maybe it was their idea to change it.
“Hi, there.” His voice is warm as he walks into the kitchen. “Did you decide where—”
“John, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me,” I interrupt, looking up from my fingers on the marbled countertop. He approaches with more hesitation than he had moments ago, but nods anyway. “Did you call and ask them to change my storyline?”
He doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t say anything or look away; he just stands there.
“Did you—”
“I don’t trust him, Savannah.”
Words escape me when he admits to it. He doesn’t even try to deny it—no excuse, nothing.
Everything I just thought in the minutes before he walked through the door turns to ash in the fire that consumes me.
How could he do this? How could he get involved in my job, in my business?
He could have gotten me fired for something so unprofessional.
My mouth opens and closes too many times to count as I search for the words to respond, but nothing seems appropriate.
“Sweetheart, I-I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t sit back and watch you—”
“I cannot believe you! Whatever issues you two have shouldn’t impact my career, John,” I say, taking a step back when he moves closer. “You don't trust him? Fine. Trust me. Have faith in me. But obviously you lack both.”
“That’s not true.”
“We have always kept things separate. Always.” I shake my head, still in disbelief.
I wanted to believe he didn’t do this, but deep down, I knew there was no other explanation.
“You had no right to get involved. No right to stick your nose in my story. What if I had done the same to you?” He rips his gaze from my own. “You would be livid, and you know it.”
“I apologize for making you feel this way, but I’m not sorry for doing it. You don’t know him, Savannah. He is not a good person. This has nothing to do with my feelings about Miles Drake. This is about keeping you safe.”
“Safe from what, John?”
“Just because you’re secure in our relationship doesn’t mean he won’t try something, and the second he tries something with you, I’m going to jail.
” John takes another step closer, and this time, I let him.
He leaves a small gap to give me the choice of what to do next.
I want to be mad, and I am, but I want to be madder.
Against my wishes, the blaze inside my chest begins to fade.
“I’m still upset with you,” I say, because, despite my disappointment, I don’t want to fight anymore, not after the last few weeks.
“I know.” His hands flex at his sides, like he wants to reach out, but restrains himself. “And I promise that I won’t ever do it again, unless it comes to him.”
A heavy exhale passes through my lips, and I take the final step forward, draping my arms over his shoulders.
“Forgive me?” John asks, letting his hands come to rest on my hips.
“You’re on probation.”