Chapter 23
One hundred and ten. That’s how many days it’s been since I told John I didn’t love him.
One hundred and nine since I showed up on my parents’ lawn, asking if I could stay for a while.
One hundred and eight since Mamá begged me to know what happened, and I lied.
Ninety-five since I told Raelynn the truth.
And eighty-five since the last time I almost got on a plane and flew home to him.
One hundred and ten days of withdrawals and waking up to reach across the bed for someone who isn’t there.
One hundred and ten days without him, and each one is just as hard as the last.
I’ve been occupying one of the bedrooms in the guest house since I moved back to the farm.
I could have easily taken up residence in my old bedroom in the main house, but I knew the guest house would give me more of the privacy I needed.
In hindsight, I could’ve just gotten my own apartment, a short-term thing, but I wasn’t sure exactly how long this was going to last. Besides, when I was packing everything up, calling Crew and deciding to come home to Willow Pond Farm felt like the safe choice.
Crew moved out of the guest house almost two years ago after our parents gifted him a few acres on the outskirts of the ranch, where he built a small bungalow.
He told me last Thanksgiving that he’d already started working on the plans for the house he wanted to build for Amara.
But Nash still lives in the other room, and our schedules vary enough that it’s like having my own place most of the time.
I’ve kept myself busy. Every morning, I get up with Papá and Crew.
I’ve been helping Mamá put together recipes and a business plan for the restaurant she wants to open.
I’ve spent more time with Cassandra and Kingsley than I have in years.
But it’s still not enough to take my mind completely off things.
I miss him. I miss my life. I miss EWE and the ring.
Hell, I even kind of miss Harper’s annoying ass.
When she didn’t tag along with Wolf for the annual New Year’s trip, I found myself both relieved and disappointed (the others were just relieved).
My triceps quake as I lower the barbell to my chest, hovering for just a second before forcing it back up.
This is my second time in the gym today; the three straight days of rain have made it nearly impossible to go for a run outside, but it’s supposed to clear up tomorrow.
So, maybe I’ll get some fresh air without the added farm scents.
A low, continuous whirr catches my attention. What the hell? That’s the third call in two minutes. Shit, that’s the third call in two minutes. What time is it?
I re-rack my weights, sitting straight up from the flat bench to read the clock on the wall: 10:13 p.m. That’s 11:13 p.m. Charlotte time.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
When Rae called earlier, she reminded me that tonight was Elite Wrestling Entertainment’s March premiere event: Mayhem.
She had a triple-threat tables match versus Kerrigan Tate and Roxanne.
Bennett would be facing Ego Wandell in a singles match to end their four-month-long feud before Noeha Nakoa would interfere to challenge Wolf Bennett’s honor, something “The Gladiator” hates.
She’s kept me updated on what the two of them have been doing.
Occasionally, Brody, but never him. Sometimes, she slips—they all do—and starts to tell me about him, but she always catches herself.
Despite the name of the event, though, there shouldn’t have been anything too crazy going on at the show.
A call right now is too late for it to be about Raelynn or Bennett, and Brody didn’t have a match tonight, which means…My heart sinks. There’s only one person it could be about.
The buzzing ceases, only to start again almost immediately. I swipe my phone from the floor and answer without looking. “What happened?”
“What took you so long?” My best friend sounds out of breath, like she’s either just run a marathon or is pacing the length of the bus she shares with Brody.
“Raelynn—”
“Sav, it’s not good.”
“Rae, what happened?”
“I don’t—I don’t know.” I can imagine her pushing a hand through her long black hair, tugging at the roots.
She’ll take the thirty steps from the front of the bus to the back, and then do it again.
“Brody said it was supposed to be a clinic, nothing major, nothing that would cause any issues, but Drake fucked up. He dropped Brooks…They were doing a spot at the announcer’s table, and it looked like he landed wrong.
He couldn’t put much weight on his left arm when he got back up, but they kept going. ”
Of course, they did. Of course, he did.
“The left side of his chest was starting to discolor by the end of it. Mike couldn’t even lift his arm for the win.”
This is bad. This is really bad. He probably tore something, and what could have been only a few months out has turned into possibly a year or more, because he wouldn’t stop the fucking match.
“Brody’s inside trying to find out what’s going on, but there isn’t much Doc is going to be able to do here. They’ll probably send him to the hospital.”
And he’s going to hate that.
“I’ll call you back.” I end the call without waiting for a goodbye.
My feet move on their own, carrying me out of the gym, down the stairs, to the bottom floor of the barn.
My finger hovers over the name, but a commotion from the other end of the hall catches my attention.
I come face-to-face with my second-oldest brother.
Nash stands at the end of the hall, panting.
His hair sticks to his face, clothes like another layer of skin, water pooling beneath him with every step he takes.
Clearly, he just ran through the early spring storm outside.
“Savannah.” Breath. “There you…are.” Breath. “Fuck, I’ve been looking for you.” Breath. “SJ, it’s Brooks, he’s—”
“Injured, I know.”
In my attempt to move past my brother, he catches my arm. “Where are you going? I just said—”
“To pack a fucking bag, Nash!” My chest heaves with each breath, trying to hold it together a little longer.
His grip loosens. “You’re going?”
“Of course, I’m fucking going. John is hurt and...” I notice a slow smile spread across his lips, and it infuriates me. “What are you smiling about?”
The empty suitcase on my bed stares back at me with a knowing grin. The same one my brother had when he said, “I knew you still loved him.” Everything in me screams to pack the bag and run, but Nash’s words hit me like a damn freight train. I knew you still loved him.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Papá says from the doorway. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, one brow raised. “You shouldn’t be driving in this. It’s only getting worse. Get your stuff together, and I’ll drive you down to the airport. You goin’ to Austin or is he sending the—”
“I-I’m not going.”
My words shock me, but they seem to shock my father even more. The space between his brow crinkles, and his stare forces me to look away.
“You’re not going?” he asks.
I close my eyes to fight back the tears that have started to gather and swallow the lump in my throat. “I can’t, Pa.”
“Ten minutes ago, you were rushing out the door, and now you can’t?”
“If I go—if I see him—I know I’ll never be able to walk away again.”
“Who says you have to?” Papá takes a cautious step inside.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t understand. I still don’t even know why you left in the first place.
None of this makes any sense, Savannah. One minute, you’re both happy, and the next, you show up here with all your stuff, asking if you can move in here.
If you ask me, it sure sounds to me like you’re runnin’ from something. ”
“I’m not running! Things just got…complicated, and I had to leave. I had to.”
“Do you or do you not love that man?” he asks.
I take a deep breath, but don’t answer. “Savannah Josephine, you need to decide what you want. What you really want. You’re messin’ with real people and real feelings.
That comes with real consequences. You don’t get to choose to love him one second and not the next. ”
“That’s not what happened.”
“I wouldn’t know, because you refuse to talk to me.
” Papá scoffs, shaking his head. “You don’t wanna talk?
Fine. Don’t talk. But the way you’ve reacted tonight tells me you still love him, and you’ve been given the chance to work this out.
You just have to make the choice, SJ. You either pack that bag and get on the plane, and you don’t look back, or… ”
I bite down on my bottom lip, tears brimming in my eyes.
I’ve never hid things from my family, unless you want to count Crew’s late-night escapades, but those weren’t my stories to tell.
Eventually, any secret we had always came out.
The Williams family has always been an open book, sometimes a little too open, lacking the boundaries that most people have.
Major things become lessons for everyone, minor things become dinner conversation, and for once, I don’t want to be part of the discussion.
“Or you let him go.”