Chapter 20 #3
Next to him, Asher sticks his chin out and says, “I’m bi, dumbass.”
Prichard directs a harsh, dangerous laugh at Asher. “Whatever. I grabbed your pathetic little asses and raised you from perdition; I can just as easily unmake you.”
“You wouldn’t,” Asher says, but his conviction audibly wavers.
Prichard’s teeth are razor sharp. “Watch me.”
A silent rage simmers beneath Caleb’s skin, but it’s useless.
As much as he hates to admit it, Prichard’s right.
With money comes power, and Prichard has enough of it to make the system work for him.
He can—and will—bury them alive. There is no way they will both make it out of this unscathed.
But Caleb’s been under Prichard’s thumb for years.
Maybe, just maybe, he can trade it all to earn Asher another shot at life. It’s a Hail Mary, but it’s worth a try.
“Prichard, please,” Caleb says quietly. His nails dig angry crescent moons into the palm of his hand.
“I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me.
Don’t . . .” Pausing, Caleb squeezes his eyes shut.
Asher will never forgive him for this. “Don’t do this to Asher.
I’ll do what you say, but don’t strip Asher of the title. ”
Asher’s head whips around. Confusion pools in his eyes. “What?”
The chairman hums thoughtfully. “Interesting. And if we keep the both of you on the roster, you’ll agree to end this nonsense?”
Caleb swallows past the jagged fist-sized lump in his throat. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t drag him down with me. The fans love him. Do it for them, if not him.”
The room goes silent. Caleb could hear a pin drop.
Then, hands slamming down on the table, Asher stands and says, “Fuck this. We—”
“We’ll think about it,” Caleb interrupts, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Asher’s wrist. He tugs Asher toward the door before he can continue riling Prichard up. “Thank you for your time.”
“What are you doing?” Asher hisses, throwing his hands up when the elevator doors slide shut. “We can’t just—” His voice wobbles. “We can’t.”
“He would ruin you.” Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You’ve seen what he’s done to Ava, to Darren Young, to God knows how many more people like us.
It’s bullshit; he’s lying. That’s the best deal we can negotiate for.
You know he’ll never move you back to the main roster. That’s not fair to you.”
“And what about us? We just call it quits? Stop fighting for us?” Asher spins around, his mouth a breath’s space away from Caleb’s. “Look me in the eye and tell me we’re not worth fighting for.”
There was a period in his late teens, right as Caleb had been shuttled to the top of the division, where he went days without sleep.
The accumulation of homesickness and loneliness left him afraid of shadows climbing the walls of empty hotel rooms. There was one thing that helped.
One final act of mental gymnastics, a cliché he turned over in his palm: the staunch belief that his parents had let him go because they loved him too much.
While delusion, as it turns out, isn’t healthy, it did make for a resurrected sleep schedule.
He thinks he understands what the idea really means now.
He loves Asher. He wishes nothing but the best for him.
He wants to watch Asher take the world by storm, to chase his dreams and run free.
He loves Asher. And the worst part of it all?
Asher loves him too. He sees it now, albeit too late.
How hard he tried to fight for them. He may have even been willing to throw it all away.
Caleb can’t watch him do that, so he has to let him go.
With a certain finality, he crowds Asher up against the mirrored wall and kisses him, putting a lifetime of love into it.
He fits his thumb in the hollow of Asher’s throat where it fits perfectly, as though heaven took one of Caleb’s ribs and formed Asher out of it.
When he pulls back, Asher is staring at him, his expression undecipherable.
His beautiful boy. He leans in again, presses his lips to Asher’s eyelids.
Warm brown eyes like Tennessee whiskey on the Fourth of July.
Another kiss to Asher’s mouth. Just once, glancingly, then runs a thumb over Asher’s lower lip, his stupid mouth that doesn’t know when to shut up.
The constellation on his cheeks. He loves him so much.
He can’t imagine the look in his eyes, but whatever it is, it makes the fireworks in Asher’s fizzle out, not with a bang, but a whimper. Asher’s face cracks, then shatters altogether.
“Caleb. Baby.” It’s desperate, jagged. Like Asher might buckle if his body wasn’t pinned to the wall, held up by Caleb’s firm grip.
Another kiss. Quick this time. An echo of their very first—over too soon.
“You’ll always have a part of me,” Caleb says quietly. He taps his knuckles over Asher’s heart. “In here.”
The elevator dings.
Caleb presses shaking fingers against Asher’s wrist, searing the beating of his heart to memory. “Now go be amazing.”