Chapter 20 #2
Fire laced pain exploded in my shoulder.
“Fuck!” I shouted, slapping the mat.
The kid stood over me, breathing hard, a sneer on his face.
“Does that hurt, Reed?” he spat. “Does it hurt as bad as a broken back?”
I froze, the pain in my shoulder forgotten. I looked up at him. The dark eyes. The jawline.
Martinez.
“My uncle is Julian Martinez,” the kid hissed, stepping closer. “He walks with a cane now because of you. He never got back in the ring because what you did.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. He wasn’t wrong. I fucked up. It was a mistake. A massive, life ruining mistake.
“I know,” I whispered.
“Get up,” he taunted, drawing his leg back like he was going to kick me in the ribs. “Get up so I can break you.”
I didn’t move. The trainer still hadn’t moved. I braced for the impact.
It never came.
A blur of motion cut across the ring. A body slammed into the kid, shoving him back so hard he nearly tripped.
“Back the fuck off!”
It was Cal.
He stood between me and the kid, chest heaving, fists clenched. He radiated pure menace.
“This doesn’t concern you, Deadlock,” the kid stammered, his bravado slipping.
“You’re in my ring,” Cal growled, his voice low and deadly. “And you’re working with my opponent. If anyone is going to break him in half, it’s going to be me. Not some rookie looking for a receipt his uncle didn’t ask for.”
Cal pointed to the exit. “Get out. Go drill with Davis.”
The kid hesitated, looked at Cal’s furious face, and wisely chose self-preservation. He rolled out of the ring and stormed off.
Cal turned around. The anger didn’t leave his eyes, but it shifted when he looked down at me.
“Get up,” he said.
I scrambled to my feet, clutching my shoulder. “I didn’t know who he was. I—”
“Shut up,” Cal snapped. He stepped into my space. “Lock up.”
I froze. “What?”
“Presley wants chemistry? We give him chemistry. Lock up.”
I hesitated. We hadn’t touched, really touched, in seven years.
I stepped up.
We collided.
My hand found the back of his neck. His hand clamped onto my tricep.
It wasn’t just memory; it was muscle memory. My body knew his body better than it knew itself. The smell of him, sandalwood and the shampoo he still used, filled my lungs, dizzying me.
But it was different, too.
He felt… solid. Cal had always been the broader one, the powerhouse to my high flyer, but this was different. He was dense now, a brick wall of muscle. His center of gravity was lower, immovable.
And I was different, too. I wasn’t the skinny kid anymore. I’d finally filled out my lean frame, adding at least twenty pounds of muscle since the accident.
We circled, testing the weight, feeling the new physics of us.
I went for a standard arm drag, expecting him to give. He didn’t. He planted his feet, resisting effortlessly, and reversed it, spinning behind me in a blur of speed I wasn’t ready for.
He’s faster, my brain registered. Much faster.
He took my back. Old instinct took over. I dropped my weight, grounding myself, using my new size to break his grip. I spun out and caught him in a side headlock.
He didn’t fight it with strength; he fought it with leverage, shooting me off the ropes.
I rebounded, coming back at him. We flowed.
Drop down. Leapfrog. Hip toss.
It wasn’t choppy like it was with the kid. It was perfect. We moved like water. Like we shared a nervous system. I knew where he was going to be before he got there. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply to my shoulder to make it look real without hurting me.
For a minute, the weeks of silence vanished. The years vanished.
I caught him in a fireman’s carry, rolling through, and he landed on his feet cat like, instantly spinning to face me. We stood there, chests heaving, sweat dripping, inches apart.
The adrenaline was humming in my veins. The thrill of the dance.
“You got heavy,” Cal panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, acknowledging the muscle I’d finally put on.
“You got fast,” I breathed back.
We stared at each other. The air between us crackled, thick and heavy with everything we weren’t saying. The gym faded away. It was just us. Just Silas and Cal.
I saw his eyes drop to my lips. Just a flicker. A glimmer of something that looked like want.
Then, panic.
Cal scrambled back, breaking the proximity like he’d been burned.
“We’re done,” he choked out.
He rolled out of the ring, grabbed his towel, and stormed toward the locker room without looking back.
I stood there in the center of the ring, my skin tingling, realizing the terrifying truth.
We couldn’t be just coworkers. There was too much fire left to ever be something as simple as that.
I showered and changed, my mind racing.
When I walked out into the hallway, I saw Cal. He was standing near some vending machines, laughing.
Lena was leaning against the wall, whispering something to him. He leaned down to hear her, his face softening. He reached out and tucked a strand of purple hair behind her ear.
A pang of jealousy so sharp it felt like a knife twist hit me in the gut.
“She’s too young for him,” I muttered.
“Dude,” a voice said from behind me.
I jumped. Evan was leaning against a doorway, arms crossed, watching me watch them. He was eating a bag of chips like he was at the movies.
“She’s twenty-one,” I said, gesturing to Lena. “He’s thirty-one. It’s gross.”
Evan snorted, a dry, amused sound. “You’re spiraling. It’s not a good look on you.”
“I can tell there’s something there,” I snapped. “And it’s weird, Evan. She’s so young.”
Evan walked up to me, popping a chip into his mouth, squinting at me like I was a puzzle with a piece missing.
“Wait,” Evan deadpanned. “Why do you know exactly how old she is? Did you Google her?”
I blinked, feeling the heat rise in my neck. “I… I asked around.”
“That’s weird,” Evan said, shaking his head. “That is borderline stalker behavior, Si. You’re stalking the Gen Z mascot.”
“I’m just looking out for him,” I lied. “I didn’t come back here to watch him make mistakes.”
“You came back here to wrestle,” Evan corrected, his tone sharpening but not unkind. “And don’t give me that ‘I’m just looking out for him’ crap. You came back because you’re pining. And honestly? It’s been almost a decade. It’s getting kind of creepy.”
“I know,” I admitted, my shoulders slumping. “I know I deserve all of it. But seeing him with someone else? Watching him be ‘Cal’ with her while I just get ‘Deadlock’? It’s a nightmare, Evan.”
Evan looked over at Cal, who was handing Lena a bottle of water. He sighed, crumpling the chip bag.
“You broke him, Silas,” Evan said, his voice dropping the humor. “Like, really broke him. He built himself back up by bricking over that part of himself. Do not come in here swinging a sledgehammer thinking you’re going to find the same boy you left.”
Evan clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“Come on,” Evan said, steering me away from the vending machines. “You’re crashing with me tonight. I don’t trust you to be alone right now. You’ve got that look in your eye like you’re about to write bad poetry or punch a wall.”
“So, spill it,” Evan said, tossing me a lukewarm can of Sprite from the minibar. He flopped onto the bed, kicking his boots off. “And don’t give me the PR answer. Why did you really come back? Because you have enough money to buy a small island. You didn’t need the check.”
I sat on the edge of the other bed, turning the can over in my hands. The condensation dripped onto the carpet.
“I missed him,” I whispered.
The words hung in the air.
Evan stopped chewing his lip. He sat up, his expression serious. “Yeah. I figured. But you stayed away a long time, Si.”
“I wasn’t living, Ev,” I said, staring at the floor. “I was in North Carolina. I spent seven years sitting on my porch, watching the grass grow, just rotting.”
I looked up at him.
“I didn’t wrestle for seven years because I couldn’t imagine doing it without him. I came back because… because being hated by him is better than being nothing to him.”
“That’s pathetic,” Evan said, but he smiled. “Romantic, but pathetic.”
“I know.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” Evan said, reaching for his phone as it pinged loudly on the nightstand. “Because according to Creative, you’re going to be spending a hell of a lot of time with us.”
Evan unlocked his phone, tapping into his email. His eyebrows shot up. Then they went higher.
“Holy shit,” Evan breathed.
“What? Did I get fired?”
“No,” Evan looked up at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and glee. “Get your phone out. Look at the Wrestle Empire Storyline outline they just sent.”
I fumbled for my phone, pulling up the encrypted company email.
SUBJECT: CREATIVE PLANS – Q1 2025
I scrolled past the undercard notes. Past the tag team division.
EVENT: EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF (JANUARY)
WINNER: EVAN WILDER
NOTES: Wilder enters at #2. Reed enters at #1. Both last until final two. Wilder eliminates Reed to win.
My jaw dropped. I looked at Evan. He was grinning so hard I thought his face would split.
“You win,” I said, a genuine smile breaking through my misery. “Ev, you win the Every Man match. You’re main eventing.”
“Keep reading,” Evan urged, bouncing on the bed. “Look at March.”
I scrolled down.
EVENT: HELL’S GATES (MARCH)
MATCH: The Devil’s Playground
WINNER: SILAS REED
NOTES: Reed wins #1 Contender spot for Heavyweight Championship.
I frowned. “Wait. Usually, the second contender goes for the secondary title.”
“Read the stipulation,” Evan pointed.
STIPULATION: For the first time in UWF history, both winners will exercise their right to challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship.
I froze.
“That means…”
“A Threeway,” Evan finished, his voice hushed with awe. “At Wrestle Empire. For the Heavyweight Title.”
MAIN EVENT: Callum “Deadlock” Kincaid (c) vs. Evan “The Showstopper” Wilder vs. “Timeless” Silas Reed.
I stared at the screen. The three of us who started at the original Aftershock performance center, who traveled in beat up rental cars, who dreamed about this exact moment.
“We’re main eventing Wrestle Empire,” I whispered. “Together.”
“Cal retains,” Evan read the final note. “Kincaid pins Reed.”
Evan let out a loud, barking laugh, falling back onto the pillows.
“He has to pin you?” Evan wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh my god. That is comedy gold. He’s going to spend months trying not to look at you, and now his big Wrestle Empire moment requires him to literally lay on top of you for three seconds.”
I looked at the email again, feeling a headache forming behind my eyes.
Stand by for long term booking regarding Reed/Kincaid feud post April.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “He’s going to be absolutely furious. Why do you look so happy about this? He’s a nightmare when he’s annoyed.”
“Look, Si,” Evan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You and I? We’re brothers. I got your back no matter what.”
He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head.
“But me and Cal? My sole purpose in his life is to be a menace. And he loves me for it.”