Chapter 29
“I got it.” His voice sounds from the back of the Escalade when the driver opens my door, but I’m already stepping out with the older man’s assistance.
Brooks offers him a tight but polite smile, coming to stand at my side.
His hand hovers centimeters behind my lower back, just like earlier when we stepped off the plane, and I moved closer into his side on pure instinct.
It took me by surprise how easily we began to move around each other after that—like we were part of a dance only we knew—especially after the awkwardly silent plane ride. It was like we hadn’t missed a beat.
When I arrived at the airport this morning, I rolled my eyes at the look on his face, like he’d won something.
The problem was I didn’t have a choice—Noah had already told me to meet Brooks at the airport before he showed up at the center last night.
I could have told him the truth, but when he walked in with expectations, it pissed me off.
It made me wonder why he’d shown up in the first place.
Wouldn’t Noah have told him I’d be tagging along?
Maybe not. Maybe he conveniently left that part out, the same way he and Amos kept my identity a secret for two months.
Brooks and I kept our distance on the plane.
It was big enough that he could have the back half while I occupied the front.
It wasn’t until we got off the plane that he closed the space, reaching for me—the way he used to—as I took the final step onto the tarmac, and I moved closer without a second thought.
He pulled away just before his hand landed on my back, and I hate to admit it, but I missed the warmth of his touch, missed the current of electricity that flowed over my skin just having him close.
Now, a crowd congregates near the door of the studio, and before we could get out, they began shouting different variations of our names, chants, and praises.
Each one vies for our attention as security leads us toward the door, and despite Brooks urging me forward, I break away to greet the crowd.
I do my best to keep up with the onslaught of items thrown my way to sign as I answer all of their questions.
Most are about wrestling, but a few about me and Brooks are sprinkled in.
It isn’t a secret that we dated outside the ring in the past, but the reason for our abrupt end is still something people speculate about.
Cassandra and Kingsley love to send me articles, sometimes even video clips, of the times our relationship is brought up on their favorite gossip blogs.
And if you’re wondering, no, I didn’t tell them the truth about why Brooks and I broke up.
As far as everyone except Raelynn and Brody knows, we just… grew apart.
“Sav, c’mon,” Brooks calls from the door. The familiarity of it tugs at my insides and makes my heart ache.
I force a smile for one final picture and wave goodbye. As I step away from the barricade, my heel catches on the uneven sidewalk, and my misstep sends me stumbling backwards. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing to either slam into the ground or the steel barricade, but neither happens.
Someone catches me. Not someone—him. His fingers apply a delicious pressure to my waist, pulling me into him. Warmth blooms in my cheeks, spreading down my neck and chest. When I lift my gaze from my hands clutching the fabric of his button-up, the world stills.
The walls have fallen completely, and I see nothing but genuine concern in his deep blue eyes. Everyone around us disappears into the shadows of my peripheral vision, and suddenly it’s just the two of us standing in the middle of Manhattan.
“Thanks.” The word is nothing more than a whisper.
“You okay?” Brooks asks, hands still firm on my waist.
I nod and start to pull away to steady myself, but when I put weight on my left foot, a twinge radiates through my ankle. “Fuck,” I breathe out.
Brooks catches me again. “You can’t walk.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but his hands don’t fall from my side.
“I’ll be fine, Brooks.” And I will be. I have to be.
It’s just a small twinge—nothing I can’t handle or work through.
Once I get out of these damn heels, it probably won’t bother me anymore.
I push his hand away from my waist and follow security inside.
Mike Monahan, host of daytime talk show The Mike Monahan Show, pulls me in for a tight hug when we walk on stage.
He shakes hands with Brooks, who has barely left my side since my little stumble on the sidewalk.
Mike motions us to the couch beside his oversized white chair.
This is the first time I’ve realized Brooks and I will be in such close quarters, and we will be for the next three days.
The distance we put between us when we sit only lasts a moment before his arm extends along the back of the couch.
A spark ignites in the space between my shoulder and his fingertips, but he never closes the gap, letting his fingers dwell in that space, taunting me.
“Well, this is certainly a sight I never thought I’d see again,” Mike says, settled into his seat.
He looks like a kid in a candy store, staring at us like one of those giant rainbow swirly pops through his eccentric rainbow-rimmed glasses.
“Savvy Skye and Brooks Taylor, together again!” If he only knew.
“Sav, tell us, how does it feel to be back after two years? No! Over two years.”
“Practically two and a half,” Brooks mumbles. His words strike a nerve, but I refuse to let it show—I can’t, not right now, not here—and hold onto the smile I painted on this morning.
“Great,” I say. “There is nothing in the world like being in the squared circle.”
“What have you been doing since you left?” Mike asks. “It’s like you disappeared off the face of the earth. No one heard or saw much of you, except the little bit you posted on social media—Oh! Your brother got married recently, right?”
I run through the questions Mike poses before settling on the last one. It seems like the easiest and least loaded question to answer. “Yes, my oldest brother got married in February.”
“I think we…have a picture…Ah, yes! Here we go!” A photo appears on the screen nestled between his chair and the couch.
The image brings a genuine smile to my face.
Crew dips his new bride, Amara, planting a kiss on her lips in front of the newly blended families and wedding party, who throw their hands up with joy.
“This is a good-looking group right here.”
“It was a perfect day. The weather was beautiful, and it was everything they wanted. I couldn’t ask for a better person for my brother.”
“It looked like you had a lot of fun that day, too.” Mike’s brow raises in suspicion, his words locked and loaded, and I get the feeling I’m not going to like what comes next.
My suspicions are confirmed when the photo abruptly changes…
This one is of me and Jax from the reception.
His left hand rests on my waist, pulling me close.
We hold drinks in our free hands, laughing at something behind the camera.
My ex-boyfriend and I had been in the middle of a conversation when the photographer asked for a photo. Then she promptly scolded us for not giving her a “real” smile. Nash, Brody, and Samuel heard and started goofing around behind the camera, which sent us into a fit of laughter.
Mike smirks. “You know, I have to ask…”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” I scoff, still trying to keep it playful.
“Who is this handsome fellow?”
“That is just a friend.”
“Just a friend?” Mike’s brow raises even higher. “You look awfully cozy for just friends.”
“We went to high school together, and he’s friends with my brother’s wife. Nothing more going on there. Trust me.”
“Oh, look at that blush! Spill the tea, Sav.”
There isn’t a blush until he says it. I try to hide the warmth growing in my cheeks, but having so many sets of eyes on me only makes it worse.
Yes, Jaxon and I reconnected at the wedding, but we haven’t spoken since. Only minutes before we were interrupted, Jaxon had approached me and said, "Told you he was really into you."
I rolled my eyes.
"So, what happened between you two?"
“That is none of your business, Jax.”
“Indulge me, Sav.”
I refused, changing the conversation to something less EWE-related and more Jaxon-related.
I knew if there was one way to course-correct, it was to get Jaxon Gallagher to talk about himself.
The shift in conversation had worked, and after several minutes of listening to him talk about the two (yes, two) girls he’d recently started seeing, I was happy I wouldn’t have to do that again for a while.
Mike looks around me to Brooks and says, “Looks like you have a little competition, Taylor.”
“He wishes.” Brooks laughs but refuses to look at me when I whip around and stare at him.
His blue eyes look brighter under the studio lights, and there’s a twinkle of mischief in them when he finally looks down at me.
His hand grazes the back of my neck before his fingers squeeze gently, possessively.
The action throws kindling on the smoldering fire beneath my skin.
My body vibrates under his touch, a familiar bloom deep in my core.
“I’m curious,” Mike says, pulling his gaze away from mine. “What made you decide to finally pick up the phone and call her? You obviously needed a tag partner, but why Savvy Skye?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Brooks’s confidence is unwavering before they share a laugh.
“Absolutely, but aren’t you a little scared she will turn on you again?”
That catches our attention, and the thumb that had been caressing the side of my neck freezes. I glare at the host, who seems to realize he’s struck a nerve.
Mike’s hands come up in surrender. “I’m just saying, I’d be a little wary, considering your history.
But hey, I know we’re all interested to see how everything plays out, especially after that match you had with Viviana, Brooks.
” From the corner of my eye, I see the producer signal for Mike to move along, knowing they’ve backed themselves into a corner and need to get out of it.
“Anyway, Savvy, are you back full-time or is this just a quick in-and-out favor for a friend?”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I say, replacing my smile.
“You’re such a tease!” Mike giggles.
I laugh along with our host, settling back further into the couch and Brooks.
His fingers give my nape another gentle squeeze, and it eases the pit in my stomach.
I’m not sure why I worry about what he thought when he saw that photo of me and Jaxon; it shouldn’t matter.
We weren’t together. We aren’t together.
“You need to convince her to stay!” Mike says, craning his neck again to look at my counterpart.
“I’m not sure I’m the person to do that,” Brooks says evenly. “She might run the other way.”
“Oh, pishposh! Something tells me you’re the only one who can.”