Chapter 28
One minute, music floods the open air of the gym, and the next, it’s eerily silent.
The only sound is my breathing. What the hell?
I look over my shoulder to find none other than Savannah Brooks in the open French doors, arms crossed with a raised brow.
Shit. What is she doing here? How long has she been standing there?
Brooks said she was in Celestia, helping with more wedding stuff.
We’re two and a half weeks from the wedding, and according to my best friend, Cece called the other night in a panic, which prompted his wife to fly home for a few days.
“Oh, Sav, hey…I thought you were in Texas,” I say, wiping the sweat off my face. I’ve been taking advantage of Brooks’s offer to use their home gym to get full workouts in before Beachbash. The alternative was skipping leg day completely until I returned to the ring.
“Just got back. Figured I’d come home and enjoy my own bed for a few days before we go to Boston.” Her brow lifts a little farther, and a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Your ears okay? I could hear your music all the way from the gate. Haven’t heard you try to deafen yourself since Har—”
“I’m fine.”
Savannah doesn’t flinch when I snap. I know she’s only trying to help, but the last thing I need is an I told you so speech. I’m not proud to admit I’ve avoided any solo interaction with her since I left her on the balcony with Sloane, hoping to avoid this very moment.
“I’m worried about you,” she says, planting her hands on her hips.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Sav. I’m fine,” I say, turning to face her.
I cross my arms over my chest, my face remaining in a firm line.
We both know it’s a lie, and that being stuck in my house for the last three weeks with nothing but time on my hands has been the worst possible scenario.
Needless to say, I’ve spent as much time as I can here.
Not that it’s helped. Every time I go home, I’m forced to confront the emptiness of missing Sloane’s presence.
How could she have left such an imprint on my life—my heart—in such a short amount of time?
It doesn’t make sense, but the ache in my chest tells me it doesn’t have to.
If she had just told me the truth, we could’ve avoided all of this…
I could’ve avoided this. We could’ve ended it before it ever started.
But that’s not true, because when I saw her outside Marie’s, I knew I was a goner.
Fuck, I wish Brooks was here. We could have a beer and not think about whether I’m fine (or not).
He would let me sulk in silence and steer the conversation toward other things, like sports or Beachbash prep or some story from the last film set he worked on, anything to avoid talking about the elephant in the room.
But he’s not here; his wife is, and she has never been one to ignore any fucking elephant.
“I’m fine, Sav,” I repeat, but this time the words sound more defeated.
“Have you considered, I don’t know, talking to her?” Savannah asks, her face softening.
“I said everything I needed to the other night.”
Savannah sighs. “That was not the time for that conversation, Bennett. You were already in a bad mood because of those damn crutches, not to mention your run-in with Grady. You should’ve—”
My mouth drops. “You’re taking her side?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side.”
That’s a lie. I cannot believe Savannah Brooks is standing there taking Sloane’s side.
Wasn’t she the one who told me to be wary of Sloane at the Jubilee?
Wasn’t she the one who kept Sloane at a distance the entire time we were together?
And now that the truth comes out, she is taking her side. What the fuck?
“Aren’t you the one who was concerned about something like this happening in the first place?” The question comes out coated in more venom than I anticipated.
“I was concerned for you if something like this happened. I don’t care what she does for a living as long as you’re happy, but I didn’t want to see you get hurt. Did you even talk to her about—”
“Yes, Savannah!” The words burst out of me, but she doesn’t flinch.
She stands in place, folding her arms, but the worry behind her eyes breaks apart some of the tension in my chest. This isn’t Savannah’s fault, and as much as I’d like to point the blame somewhere else, I can’t.
I scrub a rough hand down my face and sigh.
“Yes, I talked to her. I asked her point-blank if she was working on a story about us, and she lied. Said she was working on some story about hormone therapy or something.”
“Have you read it?” Savannah asks, and I scoff. Have I read the story? She can’t be serious. Why would I read it? “You should.”
“I’m not reading that shit. She hates Elite Wrestling Entertainment. Hates wrestling. Why would I want to read something tearing apart the one thing that has always been there for me?”
A sad smile crosses her lips. “You don’t give her enough credit, Bennett.” Savannah breathes in deeply, uncrossing her arms. “I’ll be inside. You know how to lock up.”
“Fuck.” I breathe out when she leaves, pushing my hands through my hair. Snatching my bag up from the floor, I lock the doors Savannah disappeared through and turn off the lights. That’s enough time spent at the Brooks compound today.