MAIN EVENT: Callum “Deadlock” Kincaid (c) vs. Evan “The Showstopper” Wilder vs. “Timeless” Silas Reed.
I stared at the screen. The three of us who started at the originalAftershockperformance center, who traveled in beat up rental cars, who dreamed about this exact moment.
“We’re main eventingWrestle Empire,” I whispered. “Together.”
“Cal retains,” Evan read the final note. “Kincaid pins Reed.”
Evan let out a loud, barking laugh, falling back onto the pillows.
“He has to pin you?” Evan wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh my god. That is comedy gold. He’s going to spendmonthstrying not to look at you, and now his bigWrestle Empiremoment requires him to literally lay on top of you for three seconds.”
I looked at the email again, feeling a headache forming behind my eyes.
Stand by for long term booking regarding Reed/Kincaid feud post April.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “He’s going to be absolutely furious. Why do you look so happy about this? He’s a nightmare when he’s annoyed.”
“Look, Si,” Evan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You and I? We’re brothers. I got your back no matter what.”
He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head.
“But me and Cal? My sole purpose in his life is to be a menace. And he loves me for it.”
21
JANUARY - TAMPA, FLORIDA
Now playing: Porch Light - Noah Kahan
Tampawashumid,sticky,and suffocating.
But it wasn’t the city that was choking me. It was the name on the marquee we passed as we drove away from the airport.
Man Overboard.
We hadn’t worked aMan Overboardpay per view together in seven years. Since Miami. Since the night in the hotel pool at three in the morning, splashing in the water, and I kissed Cal for the first time.
That night changed the molecular structure of my life. It was the night the line blurred, the night friends became terrified lovers.
And now, here we were. Same event. Different city. Same two men. But instead of the terrifying thrill of the beginning, we were drowning in the silence of the end.
The rental car was a timebomb. We had been snapping at each other since baggage claim, petty, biting comments about the GPS, the traffic, the air conditioning. It wasn’t about the logistics. It was about the fact that we were back in Florida, and the ghosts were screaming.
“You’re going to miss the exit,” I snapped as Cal swerved around a taxi.
“I see the exit, Silas,” Cal bit back, his knuckles white on the wheel. “Maybe if you stopped breathing down my neck, I could focus.”
“I’m just saying, the arena is the other way.”
“I know where the arena is!” Cal yelled, slamming his hand on the console. “Just shut the fuck up! God, I hate this.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and jagged.
“You hate that we’re here?” I asked, my voice tight.
“I hate thatyou’rehere,” Cal hissed, staring straight ahead, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and grief. “I hate it. It hurts. Whatever pipe dream I had about being fine… it’s gone. I can’t do this with you, Silas. I can’t.”
He didn’t look at me. He refused to. He just drove, the resentment radiating off him in waves.
