Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sulla
Trevor arrives three days later. I’m working with the horses when his rental car pulls up.
He sees me. Crosses the gravel. He doesn’t hesitate. He just pulls me into a hug.
I freeze. The last person who hugged me was Reid.
“Thank you,” Trevor says quietly. “For what you did in that bunker. I never properly got to say it.”
“It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t.” He pulls back, looks at me directly. “You saved me that day. And I wanted you to know I saw what happened with Reid. On the show. I’m sorry, man.”
The warmth in his voice is jarring. He’s speaking to me like I’m someone worth standing beside.
Zay arrives that afternoon. Polite. Friendly. Treats me normally. Jacks and Aiden arrive the next day. Shake my hand. Congratulate me on third place. No judgment in their eyes. More contestants that evening: Sienna, Heather, Juno, James. All of them normal. Some warm.
The contrast with how the sanctuary gladiators treated me for months is stark. I’d expected distance. Suspicion. Instead, I get handshakes, shoulder clasps, and easy conversation.
I help show the cast around, make sure they’re settled. Reid hasn’t arrived yet. The reunion show tapes tomorrow.
Today, I’m helping set up—arranging chairs, testing microphones, moving equipment. Staying busy because if I stop moving, I’ll think about the fact that Reid arrives today.
Every vehicle that comes up the drive, I look up. Not her. Not her. Not her.
The day drags. Hours stretching thin.
Finally, evening. Around five PM. The final production van appears on the drive. I’m near the equipment shed, half-hidden. Watching.
The van stops. The door opens. Reid steps out.
And my world tilts.
She’s wearing jeans and a simple black shirt. Hair shorter than in Scotland. No makeup that I can see. She looks tired. Beautiful. Guarded. Smaller somehow. Or maybe that’s just the distance.
Across fifty yards of gravel driveway, our eyes meet.
The air goes thin.
I want to run to her. Want to fall to my knees. Want to say everything I’ve been holding for three months.
I’m sorry. I love you. Please forgive me. Can we try again? I’d rather die than live without you.
None of it comes out.
I just stand here, fifty yards away, looking at her. She holds my gaze for three heartbeats. Then her expression shutters. She looks away first.
Laura appears, greeting her warmly. “Reid! Welcome. Let me show you to your cabin.”
Reid follows Laura. She doesn’t look back.
I watch her disappear around the corner toward the guest cabins. Two hundred yards.
Footsteps approach. Trevor.
“You okay, man?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow’s going to be hard. Live cameras. Questions about what happened.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to try to fix this?”
“I don’t know how.” I look at him. “What do I say? ‘Sorry I was a monster for decades’? ‘Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner’? Nothing I say will undo what I did.”
“Maybe not. But staying silent definitely won’t fix it.” He walks away, leaving me standing in the gathering darkness.
Reid is here. So close. Tomorrow we’ll sit beside each other, answer questions, and pretend we’re fine for the cameras.
Tomorrow might be the last time I see her. And I still have no idea how to reach her.
I don’t know if there are words big enough to bridge what I was and what I’m trying to become. I don’t even know if she’ll look at me. All I know is that I love her.
And if she chooses to walk away tomorrow—if she says this is goodbye—I’ll let her go.
I walk back to my cabin. The lights from the main buildings glow warm in the distance. Laughter drifts from the dining hall, contestants and sanctuary family mixing, eating together. Life happening. I stay at the edges of it. Like always.
I lie down on my bed, fully clothed. Stare at the ceiling. Sleep doesn’t come.
I count the hours until dawn.