The music started to fade. The crowd’s cheers calmed. The confusion was settling in the air. This was it.Fuck, this was it.
The lights dropped.
“Centuries”by Fall Out Boy hit.Myentrance music.
The crowd erupted. It was so loud I thought my hearing went out. I went through the curtain, and the lights hit my face.
Thousands. A sea of thousands around me, screaming, chanting. The disbelief. The uncertainty. The “Holy Shit” chant. Then my name being chanted. It was all happening at once.
The tears swelling in my eyes couldn’t be hidden.
They missed me. The fans fucking missed me.
The fuck up from North Carolina, the kid that didn’t deserve the chance, they missed him. They missed me.
Buteven now, in the sea of people, the blinding lights, the tears… my eyes were fixed. They couldn’t move. Because standing in front of me, down that ramp, in the ring with a title slung over his shoulder, was the only fucking reason I came back here.
Callum.
He was staring at me too. Disbelief. Anger. Rage. Hurt. Heartbreak. Everything.
From this distance, I could see the change in him. He stood differently, heavier, more settled in his own power. His gear was vibrant: orange, black, and white. The colors of the Philadelphia hockey team he secretly loved watching.
Philly’s Prince.
Fuck.
I was still in love with him.
Even if I didn’t want to be, even if I had buried it for seven fucking years, it was hitting me like a train right now. Istillloved him. I still wantedhim. And this was about to become my worst nightmare. Because what did I do now that I’d be confined to the ring, to planes, hotel rooms, and everything in between… alone? In the same vicinity as the man I’d wanted so fucking much, but couldn’t let myself have?
How did I ever fucking function in this?
I don’t think I can.
I stepped back through the curtain into Gorilla, the heavy black fabric swallowing the roar of thousands of fans behind me. But the energy in here felt just as consuming.
I was back. A bridge everyone seemed to think was burnt entirely down to the pilings… wasn’t. And here I was, coming back home. Back to the ring.
I was immediately met with a wall of sound, not from the crowd, but from the boys backstage. Hugs, hard slaps on the back, praises. “Welcome back, Si.” The production crew looked like they were seeing a ghost, bafflement written all over their faces that we hadactuallymanaged to keep a secret in this industry.
This was exactly what it was meant to be. We all knew it. The shock value was the currency we traded in, and tonight, we were rich.
Moments later, the curtain twitched again.
Callum walked in.
He was covered in a sheen of sweat that made his skin gleam under the harsh production lights. He was limping heavily on his left side, chest heaving as he gasped for air, practically dragging the Heavyweight Championship title behind him like a dead weight. His face was blank, a mask of exhaustion, yet beneath it, I could see emotions I couldn’t even fucking comprehend fully.
He’d aged. Not badly, God,neverbadly, but he looked…different. His hair was cut fairly short now, leaving just enough length on top to slick back with sweat and product. He had more tattoos now, too. His legs, visible between the tops of his boots and his knee pads, were covered in ink, peeking around the fabric like hidden gems I hadn’t yet been allowed to mine.
Our eyes locked.
In the sea of agents, producers, and sweaty bodies, our eyes couldn’t seem to look in any other direction. The noise of Gorilla faded into a dull hum. I started to step towards him first.
He stopped dead. He looked stunned. And then, like glass shattering, emotion began to build behind his eyes to a consuming level.
Jesus,I thought.How can I still read him like that after all these years?
