Year Five - The Reed Land, North Carolina
“You fixed the porch,” Evan said, leaning back in the rocking chair. The wood groaned under his weight, muscle weight now, not just bulk. He looked different than the kid I knew. He was wealthy. Famous. He carried himself like a guy who knew his worth.
“Yeah,” I said, staring at the condensation sweating down the side of my iced tea glass. “Replaced the boards in April. Sanded it down. Painted it. Trying to make it… mine.”
It was high summer in North Carolina. The air was so thick with humidity you could practically drink it, and the sound of cicadas was a deafening buzz in the trees.
Evan took a long pull from his beer. He had driven hours from Charlotte just to sit here for an hour.
“So,” Evan said, trying to sound casual, though he was bad at it. He picked at the label of his bottle. “How’s Amanda?”
“She’s good,” I said automatically. It was the script I used with my dad. With Scott. With everyone. “She’s a trauma nurse, so she gets the weird hours. She’s kind. Grounded. Completely removed from wrestling.”
“That sounds… healthy,” Evan said.
“It is,” I insisted. “It’s easy. She doesn’t ask me about spots. She doesn’t ask me about the industry. We just watch movies and eat takeout.”
Evan nodded, but his eyes were sad. He wasn’t buying it. He looked at me, at the hollows under my eyes, the way I was gripping the glass too tight, and he knew I was playing a role.
We sat in silence for a long moment, watching a hawk circle the field.
“How’s the road been?” I asked, the question clawing its way out of my throat before I could stop it.
Evan sighed, swirling his drink. “It’s the road, Si. Loud. Fast. Airports suck. Catering sucks.” He paused, then looked right at me. “He’s okay. He’s… surviving. He’s seeing a girl from developmental now. Some blonde from Aftershock. I think it’s PR, mostly, but…”
The blood drained from my face so fast it made me dizzy. My stomach rolled over.
“I wasn’t asking that,” I snapped, the jealousy flaring hot and ugly in my chest. I slammed my glass down on the table, hard enough that tea sloshed over the rim. “I wasn’t asking who he was sleeping with.”
Evan flinched. He saw the devastation I had been trying to hide for five years.
“Silas…”
“Stop,” I whispered, shaking my head. I stood up, walking to the edge of the porch, gripping the railing until my knuckles turned white. “Just stop.”
Five years of silence. Five years of pretending I was recovering. And one mention of a blonde from developmental shattered me completely.
“I was so in love with him,” I whispered. The words tasted like ash. I had only said it once. And I didn’t want to admit it again. Not to myself. Not to God. Certainly not to Evan.
“I ran, Evan,” I choked out, tears blurring the tree line. “I ran like my fucking father did when I was born. I ran like Scott did to the pills. I ran like my mother who didn’t have the capacity to love anything that wasn’t herself. I’m just another Reed running from the good thing.”
I turned around, tears streaming down my face.
“I lost the best thing in my life,” I sobbed. “I left him there in a hotel room crying. I walked out. And now he’s with some… some girl, and I’m sitting on a porch waiting to die.”
Evan stood up and walked over to me. He gripped my forearm, grounding me.
“You know he asks me about you still?” Evan asked quietly.
I stared at him. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, the silence stretching between us, heavy and suffocating.
“Throughout the tours,” Evan continued, his voice low.
“Anytime he sees me in catering. Or at the hotel. He comes up, acts all casual, asks about the weather. Then he asks, ‘Seen any old friends lately?’ And when you had the surgery… God, Silas. He texted me every couple hours asking if you were awake. If the pain meds were working. If you were okay.”
Evan squeezed my arm.
“He doesn’t know I know,” Evan whispered. “But I know why he asks. I’m not as dumb as he thinks.”
I closed my eyes, letting the pain wash over me.
He asks.
It hurt more than if he had forgotten me. It meant I was haunting him, too.