4. SUNDAY — SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO
SUNDAY — SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO
Now playing: Dákiti - Bad Bunny
Sunday morning in San Juan was pure, unadulterated chaos.
Since UWF management had strictly forbidden Silas and me from sharing a suite this weekend, our families took it upon themselves to treat the resort floors like a revolving door.
The Donovans and the Reeds bounced between my room and Silas’s, trying to log as much time with us as possible before the pay per view.
It was a loud, beautiful, overwhelming mess of shared room service, nervous energy, and endless complaints about the tropical humidity.
By mid-afternoon, we finally escaped to the arena.
Backstage, away from the public eye, in the still empty arena, we finally had the freedom to just breathe the same air.
Silas and I walked through the pacing of the match and mapped out our high-risk spots.
Meanwhile, Evan sat on the top turnbuckle, drinking a protein shake and watching us like a stressed hawk.
“So, let me get this straight,” Evan deadpanned as he pointed a finger at us. “You are going to take a suplex off the top of a sixteen-foot ladder, through a table, at the sixty-minute mark when your legs are already dead?”
“It sets up his finish perfectly.” Wiping sweat from my forehead, I looked at Silas, who leaned against the ropes. “I take the bump, he climbs, he pulls down the belt and the buzzer sounds. It’s cinema, Ev.”
“It’s a death wish.” Evan shook his head. “Speaking of cinema. Si, did you get your gear from Rosa? I saw the sketches after she completely redesigned it.”
Silas grabbed his phone, pulling up a photo of the gorgeous light-blue fabric with the Puerto Rican flag patch.
“That’s insane! She practically wove the island’s history right into your tights. You’re going to look like a literal superhero out there,” Evan said.
I glanced at the photo on Silas’s screen, and a slow, wicked smirk pulled at my lips. “It’s incredibly sexy,” I murmured, my eyes dragging up to meet his. “I’m going to have a very hard time pretending I want to murder you while you’re wearing that.”
“Oh for the love of God! We are in a public building. Can you two keep your dicks in your pants for five more hours? If a production assistant walks by and sees the champion looking like he wants to bend his rival over the ringside barricade, my career as a manager is over before it even starts.”
The chuckle Silas let free was deep, rumbling, and fuck, it shot straight to my groin. “Relax, Ev. We’re professionals.”
We wrapped up the walkthrough shortly after and had to separate to finish our respective pre-match routines.
While Silas headed to medical to get his shoulder taped, I realized one final piece was missing for tonight.
I wanted Silas to have a flag to walk out with.
The exact one to match his newly redesigned gear.
It was difficult, but I managed to slip away to the wardrobe department to search for Rosa in the midst of the Heatwave chaos.
I waited until the room cleared out and she was alone at her sewing machine running some last-minute reinforcement stitching onto a pair of boots.
“Rosa,” I called softly as I entered and walked up to her side.
She looked up, a warm, maternal smile spreading across her face. “Hey, Callum. Does everything fit okay?”
“Perfectly,” I assured her, “But I need a favor. I want to have a matching flag brought in for Silas to carry during his entrance. What should I tell his dad to look for?”
Rosa’s smile softened. She reached into a drawer, pulled out a spool of the vibrant sky-blue thread, and handed it to me. “Its technical name is celeste. Tell him to look for the original flag. The lighter blue, not the navy one.”
“Thank you.” I immediately pulled out my phone to text Maverick the details.
As I typed, Rosa leaned against her cutting table, crossing her arms. “I noticed the necklace he was wearing yesterday at the photo shoot. The Taino Sun.”
I paused, a genuine smile breaking through my focus. The truth slipped out before I could check it. “Yeah, I got it for him. He was really anxious about coming here, and I wanted him to feel grounded.”
Rosa didn’t gasp. Instead, she reached out, resting a gentle, weathered hand on my forearm. “He’s your bright sunshine, Callum. He always has been.”
I froze. My thumb hovered over the screen. The air in the room disappeared faster than Silas’s first coffee of the morning. When I looked up at her, my heart hammered violently against my ribs. “Rosa, I—”
“Shh. You don’t need to panic, mijo. I’m not saying a word to anyone. I’ve been watching you two since you were kids. I saw how you looked at him back then, and I see how you both look at each other now.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes, a hot flash of relief building behind them. Finally, someone knows besides family.
“It is a beautiful thing to love someone that fiercely,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears of her own. “Do not let this company, or this business, ever make you feel like you have to be ashamed of your golden boy.”
My chest heaved. To hear someone outside of our immediate bubble look at our relationship and see it not as a scandal, but as something beautiful and sacred, broke something inside me wide open.
It flared a sudden, protective anger low in my gut.
Pissed that the world around us ever looked at our love and demanded we hide it.
“I’m not ashamed of him,” I choked out. Covering her hand with mine, I took a shaky breath and decided to give her the ultimate truth. “I’m proposing to him. Before we leave the island on Tuesday.”
Rosa’s hands flew to her mouth, a tear spilling over her lashes as she let out a quiet, joyful gasp before pulling me into a fiercely tight hug. “Oh, Callum. He is going to be so happy.”
An hour later, the pay per view was in full swing. I met Maverick in a secluded hallway near the loading docks. He handed me a folded, pristine Puerto Rican flag, and gave me a knowing look with a heavy pat on the shoulder.
“You taking care of my boy?” he asked in a gruff voice laced with unspoken emotion.
I met his eyes. “For the rest of my life, Mav,” I promised quietly.
A slow, proud curve took over his lips. “Good man. Give ‘em hell tonight.”
Evan’s mid-card match was currently happening in the ring, and I knew Silas was standing in Gorilla position with his eyes glued to the monitors to support him. Which meant the men’s locker room was entirely empty.
I slipped the flag into a gift bag, courtesy of Rosa, but before I headed back to the staging area, I detoured. In the deserted locker room, Silas’s heavy leather duffel bag was sitting on the bench next to mine. I quickly checked the hallway again. Still empty.
I unzipped his bag and reached into my pocket, pulling out a brand new light-blue thong and laying it delicately on top of his folded clothes. Then, I grabbed the small, sleek, black silicone plug.
This wasn’t just any plug. I bought it online weeks ago.
It was remote-controlled, completely silent, and currently synced via Bluetooth to a discreet app on my phone.
When I pressed the button on my screen, I watched as the silicone hummed to life in my palm.
It was a vicious, deep vibration that caused a coil of heat to form in my lower stomach before I turned it off and slipped it right next to the thong.
On my phone, I drafted a text, scheduling it to send exactly ten minutes after our match was slated to end.
Shower. Plug in. Thong on. Your night isn’t over.
I zipped the bag back up, a dark and completely depraved smirk plastered across my face. Silas would have absolutely no idea that I held the controls.
By the time I changed and walked into the staging area, the adrenaline was turning my blood to battery acid. Silas was already there, changed into the new tights with his long, regal robe. He did indeed look like a god. He looked exactly like what he was: the next World Heavyweight Champion.
I hadn't tried my new gear yesterday, only pulled it out of the bag.
It was a lot heavier than I expected. The chains, patches, and safety pins weighed the denim of the kilt down.
I had the World Heavyweight Championship belt strapped securely around my waist, which also added weight, and a spiked black leather jacket over my shoulders.
And for the first time since my indie days a decade ago, I rimmed my eyes in a heavy, smudged black eyeliner.
Silas’s jaw dropped when he spun to see me. His sparkling brown eyes dilated so fast, they looked as black as night.
Rosa, who was adjusting the collar of his robe, noticed his reaction. She leaned in, nudged him gently in the ribs, and whispered loudly enough that I could hear, “Your man is incredibly handsome, no?”
Silas physically jumped, his head whipping around to look at her.
I managed to catch his eyes when they darted back to me, and gave a slow, confirming nod.
She knew. Silas let out a staggering breath while a massive, brilliant smile broke across his face.
Rosa laughed, pulling us both into a tight hug.
She checked over our gear one last time before herding us toward the tunnel.
As we walked from staging to Gorilla, Silas leaned into my space. He pretended to check the clasp of my title belt so nobody would notice, but his mouth was right at my ear.
“The eyeliner,” he groaned. His low, gravelly tone sent a vibration straight to my balls. “Cal. You have no idea what it’s doing to me. You look…filthy.”
His gaze was hungry, like he wanted to rip the kilt off with his teeth, right there in the hallway.
“You like it?”
“I want to ruin it. Do you have more? Of the makeup?”
“In my bag. Why?” I asked innocently.
“You’re gonna put on more,” he ordered, lust and desire dripping from every word. “When we get back to the hotel tonight. Put it on because I want to see it run.”
I suppressed the smirk that threatened to take over. “You’re bossy today.”
“I’m winning a title tonight,” he breathed. “I get to be bossy.”
I smiled, thoughts of the plug hiding in his bag and how he’d likely react taking over. “Focus, Champ. Let’s go to Gorilla.”
The roar of twenty thousand fans in the arena was deafening and shook the concrete floor beneath our boots. Production assistants ran around with headsets, barking orders, yelling questions, and counting down the seconds.
Lena quietly slipped through the curtain in her street clothes, holding the gift bag Maverick had brought. She smiled, handed it to me, and skirted off without a word.
I turned to Silas, pressing the bag into his chest. “From me and Rosa.”
Silas frowned, but he still reached into the bag. He pulled out the folded fabric, letting it unroll in his hands. When he saw the flag, his breath hitched. His eyes instantly welled with tears, his large hands gripping the fabric like a lifeline.
I looked up at the massive monitors hanging in Gorilla. The camera was panning the crowd, the arena a sea of signs.
WELCOME HOME, SILAS. SANGRE DE NUESTRA SANGRE.
Dozens of hand-drawn Taino suns and Puerto Rican flags waved frantically in the air.
I didn’t point it out to him, just let my heart swell with overwhelming pride. He had done it. He stepped through the curtain, and this island was welcoming him with open arms.
Silas looked up from the flag, tears now spilling over his lashes. He didn’t care who was watching anymore. With one step, he was in my space, wrapping his massive arms around my neck and pulling me into a desperate, crushing hug.
“Thank you,” he choked out, burying his face in the side of my neck. “I love you. God, Cal. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered back, holding onto him as tight as I could.
Standing here, with him in my arms, the reality of the moment crashed over me.
This match marked the end of an era. Tonight, I was losing the top title and stepping back.
I would hand him the keys to the kingdom, returning him to his rightful place, after losing his footing all those years ago.
After tonight, there wasn’t much left I wanted to prove in this ring.
And although I didn’t know what was next for my career; I knew exactly what was next for my life.
Silas pulled back, resting his forehead against mine. Right here, in full gear, eyeliner smudged around my eyes, and the Championship belt heavy around my waist, we took an isolated second to soak each other in.
“Go out there, and take back what’s yours,” I whispered through our mingling breaths.
“Cal, you’re up! Two seconds!” the producer yelled over his headset, pointing at the curtain. The heavy beat of my music hit, sending a vibration straight through the air and floor. The crowd immediately erupted into a booming vicious chorus of boos.
I pulled back from Silas, my hands slipping down his arms. My fingers caught his for just a fraction of a second before I let go.
With a turn, I started walking toward the blinding lights of the tunnel, but after a few steps, I couldn’t help it. I spun around and walked backward, just to look at him one last time.
In an hour and twenty minutes, he’d take the belt from around my waist. He would achieve his lifelong dream.
He was going to do what Maverick and Scott never could:be the first and only Reed to win the World Heavyweight Championship.
And in two days, I was going to ask him to marry me.
Because everything I wanted was now standing in front of me instead of behind.
I held his gaze for one last, sacred second as I soaked in the end of an era.
Go give ‘em hell, my Golden Boy.