13. THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA #3
We didn’t say a word. We didn’t have to.
There were no words in the English language that could fix the reality waiting for us on the other side of that 8:00 AM phone call.
Right now, all we needed was to hold each other, and that’s what we did.
We sat on the cold floor, hugging each other, crying, mourning, and aching in the silence.
The thing we’d fought so hard to protect, the sacred secret we had shielded from the world with our blood, the love we had weaponized in the ring to keep ourselves safe, was now out in the open. And we could never, ever take it back.
Our peace in the bathroom lasted all of ten minutes before the world started clawing at the door again.
The sound started small, a distant frantic vibration coming from the bedroom.
Silas’s phone, buried deep in the nightstand drawer where I’d stashed it like a piece of radioactive waste.
We both sat on the floor, our shoulders touching, eyes glaring, pretending the piece of furniture wasn’t currently rattling against the drywall.
I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves as his fingers twitched against his knees.
Eventually, the rattling stopped, only to be replaced seconds later with a sharp and abusingly loud ringtone. Mine.
It rang five times the first go-round, the screen lighting up the darkened bedroom like a distress signal.
I didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.
It was time. The dread had become a physical thing now, the air in the bathroom thickening until I felt like I was trying to breathe through wet wool.
Silas felt it, too. His eyes were locked on the doorway, his skin pale and features hollow.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked, every word sounding like it had been dragged through a rock crusher. I reached out, tangling my fingers with his, my thumb tracing the black band on his finger as we got to our feet.
He looked at me, his jaw set tight, and with a shaky breath he nodded. “I guess we have to be. We can’t hide in the bathroom forever.”
The second we opened the door, my phone started screaming again against the mattress. The sound hit like a punch to the gut, a shrill reminder that our bubble of safety was about to burst in a matter of seconds.
Presley Murran.
I clicked the answer button and held it up between us. “Hello—”
“What the fuck!” Presley’s voice didn’t just come through the speaker, it exploded out of it.
“Do you have any idea what the fuck you two have done? My office is a goddamn war zone! I’ve got network execs breathing down my throat, sponsors demanding to know why my two biggest stars are holding hands on a North Carolina sidewalk, and the stock prices are fluctuating like a heart monitor! ”
Silas cringed next to me as his hand tightened around mine until his knuckles went white. I felt the Deadlock mask slide into place as my eyes narrowed at the wall.
“You both better be on this goddamn line!” Presley shouted again.
“We’re here,” we said in unison, our voices a grim harmony.
“You both better listen and hear me loud and fucking clear,” Presley started, his tone dropping into a dangerous, angry rasp.
“You two are not to do a goddamn thing. Do not speak to the press. Do not make any kind of social media statements. I don’t even want to see you post a picture of your fucking breakfast. Nothing.
Not a single word until I figure out what the hell to do with you both.
You’ve officially killed the biggest storyline in the history of this company, and I’m currently trying to decide if I should sue you for breach of contract, or just let the fans tear you apart. ”
I immediately scoffed, every protective instinct in my body rising to the surface. “How is our situation any different than handling any other couple on the roster? Coworkers on the road get together all the damn time. This isn’t exactly a new phenomenon.”
“Goddamn it, Kincaid. I am not discussing your poor life choices over the phone! This isn’t a locker room fling.
This is a PR catastrophe. You two are off the road until further notice, effective immediately.
Stay at that goddamn house, keep the gates locked, and do not make this clusterfuck any worse than it already is.
If I see a single paparazzi photo of you two, I’ll make sure you never set foot in a ring again. ”
The line went dead with a sharp, final click.
Silas and I both let out a shaky, simultaneous breath, before I was up on my feet with my fingers running through my hair anxiously.
Silas sat there staring blankly at the bedroom floor without a trace of emotion on his face.
In a normal world, being told to stay home from your job with your fiancé was a dream.
In the world of professional wrestling, it was a death sentence.
In our world, if a guy wasn't on screen, he wasn’t driving ticket sales.
He wasn't getting over with the fans, he wasn't worth the company’s time.
Now, the UWF was taking that approach with their newest champion and their top-performing veteran.
“We’re fucked.” Silas let out a short, breathy laugh that broke into a sob.
I didn’t have an answer for him. I just leaned against the wall and watched the sun continue to rise, mocking us with its brightness.