14. THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: Somewhere Only We Know - Keane
The vibration didn’t just wake us; it felt like a seismic shift.
Both of us shot up out of a dead sleep, our hearts hammering.
The noise was coming from Silas’s nightstand, the graveyard where his phone had lived since the bar fight.
I saw the name on the screen through the gloom of the early morning light, and my stomach did a slow, nauseated roll.
Presley Murran.
Silas looked at the phone as if it were an unpinned grenade, his hand shaking as he reached for it.
With white knuckles clutching the rattling device, he turned and looked at me, his eyes wide.
I gave him a slow, grim nod, reaching out and tangling my fingers with his.
Squeezing hard, he took a shaky breath and swiped the screen, clicking the speaker icon.
“Hello?” Silas rasped, voice still thick with sleep.
“Listen to me.” Presley’s voice came through the line, sharp, clinical, and devoid of the fake corporate solidarity he usually peddled.
“I’ve spent way too many days cleaning up your mess.
There’s been more meetings with legal and PR than hours of sleep.
So, here’s how this is going to go if you two want to keep your paychecks. ”
Feeling Silas stiffen beside me, I pulled him closer until his shoulder pressed into mine.
“The spectacle stops now,” Presley continued, his voice echoing off the bedroom walls.
“The viral frenzy is dying down, and I intend to keep it that way. You will maintain a completely professional image in its entirety. I don’t want to see a single post on social media about the two of you.
No statements, no coming-out stories, no cryptic photos.
In the locker room and backstage, you are coworkers.
You are professionals. This is not to be discussed, not with the crew, not with the other talent, and certainly not with the fans.
You play your parts, or you don’t play at all. ”
He was lying through his teeth. I knew it, and Silas knew it.
The fans weren’t upset; the ratings for the clips the company had been forced to post were through the roof.
The world was devouring us, obsessed with the timeline of Deadlock and his biggest rival turning into something real.
But Presley didn’t want a reality he couldn’t script.
Silas fired off immediately, the Timeless polish finally cracking under the weight of the restriction.
“A professional image? Presley, how many times have we had to watch straight couples on the roster make their entire careers out of their relationships? You’ve got people getting engaged in the middle of the ring, you’ve got husbands and wives main-eventing together, and you don’t tell them to be coworkers.
Why are we the only ones who have to be ghosts? ”
Presley didn’t even hesitate, he deflected with the cold precision of a man who viewed his employees as dollar signs.
“That is a completely different demographic and marketing strategy. This conversation is over, Silas. You have your instructions, so, I best see you in Minneapolis for the next show. Don’t make me regret keeping you on payroll. ”
When the line went dead, Silas stared at the phone for what felt like an agonizing millennium before he let out a guttural sound. He threw the device across the room, watching as it bounced off the armchair.
“He wants us to hide,” he hissed as he stood up with a heaving chest. His hair was a messy mixture of bedhead and frustrated pulling, but his eyes burned like a pot on the stove ready to bubble over.
“He wants to shove us back into the closet and pretend like the last two weeks didn’t happen.
As if I’m going to walk into that locker room and act like I don’t belong to you. ”
“We aren’t doing it,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. I was up pacing, too, as ice settled into my bones. “He thinks he can buy our silence. He’s wrong.”
We stormed out of the house in a blur of motion. I didn’t even bother with socks. I shoved my feet into my boots, grabbed my keys just in case, and followed Silas as he marched toward Maverick's. He wasted no time either, already on the phone, barking at Scott to meet us there.
By the time we burst into Maverick’s living room, Scott was already there. He leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand, looking like the immovable mountain he’d always been. Maverick however, was pacing the rug, his arms crossed over his chest.
Silas didn’t even say hello. He launched into a heated tirade, detailing every word of Presley’s call. He was nearly vibrating with a sort of kinetic energy, all while his hands gestured wildly as he drifted around the small space.
“He demanded we be coworkers! Backstage, out and about, while training! Like we’re strangers!” he roared, glaring at his father. “Are you hearing this? He wants to kill the truth! To make us hide!”
I watched Maverick and Scott carefully. The way they looked at each other with an old-school glint in their eyes. They weren’t outraged.
They were resigned.
“Silas, son, sit down,” Scott said, his voice quiet.
“Look, we know it’s shitty. We do. But Presley is right about the business side.
You’re the face of the company. Cal is the best of the best, and if you turn this into a love story right now, you’ll kill the feud, which kills the money.
In our day, you did as you were told. You protected the business first, your life second. ”
“Protect the business?” I spoke up, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “We are the business. We’ve given our bodies to that company and bled for that ring. Now you’re telling us to lie to everyone and ourselves so Presley doesn’t have a PR headache?”
Maverick let out a heavy, tired sigh. “It’s about longevity, Cal. If you fight the office on this, they’ll bury you. They’ll throw you in three-minute matches against rookies until the fans forget your names. Just…play the part. Stay out of the public eye until this dies down. It’s the smart move.”
A heavy wave of disappointment settled in my chest. These were my heroes. The men I had admired growing up. But right now, they were relics stuck in the past. They were so focused on the business part, they forgot about the people inside it.
“I’m going home,” Silas muttered in an icy tone that could send a penguin running before he turned on his heel and walked out. “I need to sleep. I can’t listen to this.”
I stood in the living room for a few seconds after he left, watching Maverick and Scott. Both were good men, good fighters, but they were wrong. They were so busy trying to protect their legacy that neither could see Silas was drowning.
I walked out of Mavericks’, but instead of heading back to our place, I headed down the road toward Scott’s house. I knew Jayme wasn’t home. She’d mentioned an early morning grocery run at dinner last night, and Scott was staying behind to talk to Mav.
“JOSIE! CADENCE! OPEN UP!” I yelled at the top floor windows instead of knocking.
Josie’s window slid open, her head popping out with a furrowed brow. “Cal? What are you doing? It’s ungodly early.”
Cadence’s window opened right next to it with a slam. “Did someone die? Why are you shouting?”
“How quick can you two get ready?” I asked, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Josie leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing. “Depends. What’s in it for us?”
“Coffee and a trip into Wilmington,” I said.
“Why?” Cadence asked.
“Because I need witnesses,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m taking Silas to the courthouse. We’re doing this. Right now.”
The silence that followed lasted exactly half a heartbeat before both windows slammed shut.
The muffled sound of footsteps thundered across the floor upstairs, and a handful of minutes later the front door flew open.
The twins were a tornado of denim and oversized T-shirts, their hair thrown up in messy buns, all while grinning from ear to ear with a chaotic teenage-like energy.
“You’re serious?” Josie panted as she grabbed her sneakers off the porch.
“Dead serious.” Tossing my car keys to Cadence, I continued. “Go start the truck. Don’t hit the gate. I’m going to get Silas.”
I ran back to our house, burst through the front door, and headed straight for the bedroom. Silas was face down on the bed, head buried in the pillow like it was his shield. Grabbing our birth certificates and social security cards from the nightstand and shoving them into my pocket, I spun on him.
“Get up,” I said, grabbing his arm.
“Cal, what are you doing?” His voice was muffled by the pillow as he pressed his face deeper against my hold.
“We’re leaving. Don’t ask questions. Just come with me.”
“Cal, I’m in my pajamas!”
“I don’t care if you’re in a tutu.” I dragged him toward the door. “We’re going.”
We piled into the truck, the twins already restless and vibrating in the back seat. Silas climbed in the passenger seat, his eyes rapidly flickering between me and the twins as he scratched the back of his neck.
“Where are we going? Why are Josie and Cadence in the truck?
“Shut up and drive,” Cadence ordered from the back.
The drive into Wilmington was silent save for the whispering from the back seat. When we pulled up in front of the New Hanover County Courthouse, the gravity of the situation began to finally hit him. His head swivelled, moving between the building and me so fast I thought it might fly off.
“Cal…are we…?”
“We’re done hiding, Si.” I reached across the console to cup his jaw. “Presley wants a professional image? Fine. Let’s give him one. A married one. I’m not spending another second of my life pretending you aren’t mine.”
Silas’s breath hitched. “But…I wanted to give you a real wedding. I wanted you to have the flowers and the suit and the family—”
“I have everything I want right here. This is all I’ve ever wanted. You, me, and a piece of paper that says the world can’t separate us,” I whispered before leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his temple.
Silas let out a choked sob and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
The courthouse was cool and unusually quiet, a contrast to the fire burning in my chest. We stood in front of the clerk looking unabashed, considering we were two men in sweats, pajamas, and messy hair, holding hands tightly.
When the clerk got to the part about the names, Silas stopped, his expression turning solemn. With a single look at each other, we both spoke up at the exact same time.
“I want to change my last name.”
Stopping, each of us turned to the other with a quirked brow.
Silas blinked. “Wait, what? No. I’m taking Kincaid,” he declared, bumping his shoulder against mine.
“Like hell you are. I’m taking Reed,” I countered immediately.
Si's brow furrowed. “Why the fuck do you want to be a Reed? Nobody wants to willingly admit they’re related to Maverick or Taylor.”
“Why do you want Kincaid?!” I shot back, turning fully toward him. “I don’t even want Kincaid!”
“‘Cause, Reed is a headache!” he argued, throwing his free hand in the air. “I don’t want that shit! I want to be your husband! To be Silas Kincaid!”
“Well, I want to be Cal Reed! I want to steal your family’s legacy!”
“You can’t steal it when I’m trying to give it away!”
“Excuse me.”
We both ignored the clerk.
“You’re not taking Reed, Cal,” Silas insisted, his Southern drawl thickening with his increased frustration.
“Yes, I am,” I said stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh, for the love of God,” the clerk sighed, the sound echoing loudly off the plexiglass partition.
Her pen fell to the desk with a sharp clatter, causing Silas and me to pause and look at her.
She was pinching the bridge of her nose while glaring at us.
A look that told us we were possibly the two biggest idiots to ever walk into New Hanover County.
“Hyphenate it. Both of you. And stop wasting my time.”
“Wait, what?” Silas asked, blinking.
She picked her pen back up and tapped it aggressively against the paperwork. “You both take Reed-Kincaid. Then you have the exact same name. There, problem solved. Now sign the damn paper so I can go on my lunch break.”
The bickering evaporated into thin air as I looked over at Silas, his frustrated expression already melting into a bright smile.
“Callum Reed-Kincaid,” Silas tested the name out, a laugh bubbling in his throat. He looked at me, his eyes shining with tears he was no longer trying to hide. “I like it.”
“Silas Reed-Kincaid,” I whispered back, a fierce, possessive warmth flooding my chest. “Yeah. Me too.”
We signed the papers and said our vows. They were short and sweet, but powerful enough to shake the foundations of the building.
When the clerk finally said: “I now pronounce you husband and husband,” I didn’t just kiss him; I claimed him.
It was a connection that tasted of victory, obsession, and a decade of longing.
We walked out of the courthouse into the bright morning sun, and the air finally felt like we could breathe it. Our hearts felt lighter than ever before, like the world finally made sense.
“Wait!” Josie yelled, running ahead of us. “We need a photo! The world needs to see this!”
Silas laughed, wiping his eyes. He wore his favorite NO ONE LIKE US hoodie, the one I’d given him years ago.
It was a statement, it was us. So, with his back to the camera and the white lettering of the hoodie stark against the black fabric, he pulled me into a hug with his head resting on my shoulder.
My arms hooked against his back, holding him tight, but as Cadence lifted her phone, I had another thought.
I looked directly into the lens, my face locked in defiance as I held up both hands and extended my middle fingers to the world.
A resounding “fuck you” to the corporate office, to the critics, and to every person who told us to hide.
“Got it!” Cadence yelled.
Snatching the phone from her, I opened Instagram.
For the first time in my career, I didn’t think about the PR team or how to word my caption.
I started selecting every photo we’d ever hidden, from the one of us asleep on the couch in the house to the one of Silas laughing in the kitchen.
Even the one of us holding hands on the porch.
I posted them all; a decade of secret love flooding the internet in a matter of seconds.
And the final shot? The courthouse photo.
Professional image: here it is. Deal with it. Meet the Reed-Kincaids.
“Tag me!” Silas laughed, his phone already starting to buzz in his pocket.
“I did. Now, shut your phone off. We’re going home.”
The silence that followed was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.
We were married.
We were out.
We were free.