12. CAROLINA BEACH, NORTH CAROLINA #2
A man approached our table, looking to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a polo shirt that was clearly a size too small.
Apair of expensive sunglasses hung from his collar.
He was clearly several drinks deep. I could smell the bourbon from three feet away.
His eyes had that glassy, unfocused sheen of someone who’d been celebrating for far too long.
A heavy hand clapped onto Silas’s shoulder, the force of it making Silas stumble forward an inch. My spine stiffened immediately, every protective instinct roaring to life.
“Well I’ll be damned,” the man slurred, his voice loud enough to draw eyes. “I thought that was you, Si. How you been, boy?”
Silas's expression shifted rapid-fire between emotions, recognition blooming before hardening into a deep, guarded tension that locked his jaw. He straightened his shoulders, gently dislodging the man’s hand.
“Evening, John,” Silas said, his voice clipped and tight.
“So, who brought you? Scott or Mav?” John leaned in with a hint of condescension. “They’d be the only ones who could drag you out of those back-water woods.”
Silas’s jaw ticked, the pulse in his neck jumping. “I’m here with some friends.”
John nodded, his gaze sliding over to me. He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowing. “I just assumed they’d be here because…well, you know. Life of the party n’ all.”
Silas let out a sharp, annoyed huff, his hands fisting at his sides. “There’s no party, John. Leave it alone.”
John didn’t leave it alone. He turned fully toward me, extending a hand that was slightly unsteady. “Shit, where are my manners? I’m John. John Brewer. I’m Si’s cousin. Second cousin, technically. Grandfather’s nephew.”
I stared at his hand for a second before returning to his eyes and reaching out. My grip was much firmer, and probably more aggressive than necessary, but this guy gave off an asshole energy I didn’t like. “Cal Kincaid.”
“Kincaid, huh?” John let go of my hand, his smirk widening as he looked between us once again.
When his gaze remained on Silas, the mask of family friendliness finally slipped entirely.
“Oh, and by the way, Si…” He leaned in, his tone dropping into a vicious mix of intoxicated rasp and sloppy arrogance.
His eyes clocked me once more before a single brow raised.
“This is a family beach. You know, with kids and decent people around. Make sure to keep whatever this is away from them. Nobody wants to see that shit in public.”
My blood instantly boiled, and the air within the bar felt like it had been sucked out of the room.
I stood and stepped into his personal space, my chest inches from his.
His nose, that’s what I wanted to break before putting him through the high-top table.
But I liked my career, and I wasn’t going to give this drunk piece-of-shit the satisfaction of a headline.
“Listen man, we don’t—”
The words didn’t even have a chance to hit his ears before there was a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.
CRACK.
Silas. My sweet, calm, always anxious but notoriously kind, fiancé had snapped.
Without any warning, he launched a right hook that connected squarely with John’s face.
The force of the blow was staggering. Anyone close could hear the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage.
John’s head snapped back, his glasses flying off of his shirt and skittering across the floor as he dropped like a sack of stones.
The bar went dead silent. Every patron paused their night to look over as time seemed to slow to a crawl. John scrambled to his feet, still swaying as blood gushed from his nose, staining his white polo shirt a violent crimson.
“You fucking bastard!” he roared.
Lunging forward, he attempted to tackle Silas. They flew back, colliding with a group of people at the next table. Chairs got overturned, drinks were spilled, and within seconds the bar erupted into a full-scale brawl.
I acted on pure instinct. There were no thoughts given to cameras or possible consequences, I just threw myself into the fray. My arms flailed as I attempted to rip John off of Si as he tried to gouge out Silas’s eyes.
“Break it up!” Evan was there in an instant, his voice a roar as he grabbed a man who tried to jump on Silas’s back.
When I tried to yank Silas back by the waist, a stray fist flew by my face, grazing the side of my jaw.
I clocked the source immediately, one of John’s friends, a thick-necked guy in a sports jersey who was itching for a fight.
Without hesitation, I punched him in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze as he doubled over and left me an opening.
Grabbing Si by the shoulder, I extracted my man from the pile and pulled him into my chest.
“Evan! We’re going! Now!” I yelled over the shouting and the sound of breaking glass.
Spinning violently, I finally caught sight of the girls huddled together near the dartboards. Their faces had gone entirely pale as they watched the fight progress from one drunken comment to a full-blown riot. “Outside! Now!” I hollered at them while frantically gesturing toward the door.
We managed to push through the crowd, thanks to a surge of adrenaline. On the boardwalk, the cool air hit my face, but I didn’t slow down. I grabbed Silas’s hand, his knuckles now slick with blood, and started running.
“Cal, wait!” April panted, but I didn’t stop.
I led us around the block to a narrow, dimly-lit alleyway that sat between a row of old houses and a towering hotel. It was a shortcut to the parking lot where we’d left the cars. We ran until the sound of the bar was nothing but a distant echo.
“Cal, I—”
I heard the panic in Silas’s voice immediately.
I’d been pushing him ahead of me this entire time, but as I stopped to look at him, my heart sank.
His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his chest was heaving in a way that had nothing to do with running.
He was staring at his hand, at the blood on his knuckles, and he was shaking violently.
An uncontrollable vibration that started in his shoulders and moved down his entire body.
“Babe, I’ve got to get us out of here.” My own breath came in ragged gasps but my eyes were pleading. “I have no doubt that douchebag called the cops. He’s exactly the type to press charges. Even if he started it.”
Silas’s voice had my heart racing as his words came out in nothing more than a series of fractured syllables. “He wouldn’t…He–he is one… Won’t…fuck up…rep. Sheriff…he-he-he won’t.”
A small flicker of relief surged through me at the logic, but it didn’t last. Silas was sliding down the wall of the alley, his knees buckling under his weight. I caught him before he hit the ground, guiding him down into a crouch.
“I’m right here, baby. Breathe,” I cooed my voice as calm as I could force it to be. I squeezed his biceps, locking my gaze onto his. “You’re safe. We’re all safe. Evan, are the girls behind us?”
“We’re here,” Evan panted, standing guard at the entrance of the alley.
While my eyes were diverted, the sudden crash from the adrenaline rush hit Silas. He let out a grunted and guttural wail, clutching at his bad shoulder as he doubled in on himself. “N-no…my shoulder. It-it popped. I-I felt it,” Silas’s face face paled to a ghostly, translucent white.
My heart hit my stomach. This wasn’t just a panic attack.
this was about to be a full-on spiral. In Silas’s mind, his shoulder was more than just a joint; it was the symbol of his failure.
The very thing that had ended his first career and sent him into seven years of darkness.
If it had truly popped… If it was damaged again…
“Silas, look at me,” I commanded, grabbing his face with both hands. “Breathe. Just breathe. It might just be a strain. You moved fast, Si. Don’t go there, yet.”
But he was already gone. He was back in the ring seven years ago, trapped in the silence and reliving the pain. He started to hyperventilate, his breaths coming in short, terrifying hitches.