“Really? Lena is top of your list on who needs to know?” I asked, probably coming off snide when I didn’t actually mean to.
Cal glared at me while keeping his eyes on the road, his look saying I definitely sounded like an asshole to him. “Yeah, she is. Look, you may not be fond of her, but she really is like my kid now, Si. And I want her to know from me, not because she finds out from a rumor or god, a fucking video or some shit of us.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I understood what Cal meant, and I understood the importance of Lena in his life. Cal had told me on many occasions how much Lena and he had in common, and how he understood what she felt. Though Cal wasn’t in foster care, he lived with a neglectful dad for years, and if it hadn’t been for the Donovans taking him in, he probably would have ended up in the system.
We got back to the hotel and the weight set in. It settled all around us, heavy and suffocating like a wet blanket, and as expected, I handled it like shit.
I felt it the second we started to walk through the hotel lobby. The tunnel vision. The walls starting to consume me. The tightness in my chest. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it held off for as long as it had, but good Lord, this was the worst it had felt… probably ever. Was that even possible? It felt darker, deeper, like the floor was dropping out from under me with every step.
By some dumb stroke of luck, likely the inability for Cal and me to really hold a conversation still this morning, I made it to the hotel room before the collapse happened. And when I say collapse, I mean literally.
I fell to my knees as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, my head in my hands. The room was spinning. Everything was spinning. My eardrums thumped so hard I could hear my own blood rushing, drowning out the sound of the air conditioning, drowning out everything.
“Fuck, Si, are you alright?” Cal asked, dropping his keys instantly.
I shook my head, my face still buried into my palms. I couldn’t speak. My voice didn’t work. This was bad. I’d gotten to where I couldn’t speak before, but this didn’t feel like that. This felt like that on steroids. It felt like I was dying.
The dread wasn’t just about this morning. It was about home. I had to call them. I had to call Scott. I had to call Maverick. I had to tell them I was coming home, and the thought of facing them with this secret, with the weight of who Ireallywas, felt like a noose tightening around my neck.
Caltried to pull my hands away from my face. “Baby, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, soothing rumble he used when I was fraying at the edges.
I softened a bit at his touch but still couldn’t pull out of it. This shit was consuming. I was underwater, looking up at him through a distorted lens.
Hot tears tracked down my face, and I still couldn’t speak.
Cal wasted no time pulling me to him. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t tell me to breathe. He just wrapped his arms and body around me, covering me like a weighted blanket, shielding me from the spinning room.
“I—I—I have to—to tell—them,” I managed to choke out, the words fracturing on the way out.
“Your family?” Cal asked, his hands rubbing my back gently, firm strokes up and down my spine.
I nodded against his chest, a fresh wave of panic seizing my lungs.
Cal held me tighter.
“We’re going to be alright, Silas. Regardless of what your family thinks. I’m not leaving you, ever. Do you understand me?” Cal said as he pulled me back to face him. His eyes were certain, his demeanor calm and level. He knew what I needed, and he was trying his best to be it for me right now. He was the anchor. He was the only thing keeping me from drifting out to sea.
Cal sat with me right on the floor, holding me until I calmed down enough that we could move. When that happened, he led me to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, steam quickly filling the small space. He pulled my clothes off of me, even though I told him I could do it myself, his hands gentle and reverent. He pulled me into the steaming hot water. It stung, but it was what I needed. It grounded me. Cal stood in there with me, skin to skin, holding me even more, placing soft kisses on my bare skin like tiny love notes of reassurance against the invisible bruises of my panic.
Bythe time we stepped out, we were nearing our call time for our afternoon media shit. I was dreading it, and so was Cal.
“Order pizza after the show? Invite her over?” I suggested as I rummaged through my bag, trying to find my nicer clothes to do media in. My voice was raspy, but steady.
“I’ll go ahead and text her,” Cal said as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand.
The idea of telling Lena didn’t feel anywhere near as heavy as telling my dad, or Scott. And after everything had sunk in the last couple of hours, that feeling became more real. I could do this. Tell her with Cal. She loved him, so fucking much, and I had no doubt she respected him, a fact I seemed to undermine in my panic earlier.
We took our time getting ready, partially because we kept teasing one another. The stupid dress clothes we were expected to wear for media were beyond uncomfortable. Before Presley took over, media was usually wrestlers in their merch shirts and a pair of jeans. But now, in his era of the UWF, we were expected to be dressed professionally, dress shirts, pants, suit jackets. All the dumb bells and whistles that nobody gave a fuck about in this business, but for some reason, he did.
Even though I hated wearing this shit, I couldn’t help but gawk at Cal every time he was in it. He looked so fucking sexy dressed up like this. The button downs only made his muscles look bigger, the dress pants hugging every part of his ass and thighs perfectly. He looked like a god, and I didn’t mind dropping to my knees and worshiping him anytime.
I walked up behind Cal as he was messing with his hair in the mirror. He was already in his pants, his dress shirt on, partially buttoned. I put my hand around his middle, sliding my palm flat against his stomach, and he rolled his eyes at the distraction, though he secretly loved it.
“What do I have to do to convince you to fuck me while wearing this?” I mumbled as I started to plant kisses up the side of his neck, tasting the cologne he’d just sprayed. He sank into them without a second thought, like even if he wanted to protest, he couldn’t.
“What’s in it for me?” he grumbled, tilting his head to give me better access.
I dropped my hand lower, running it over the front of his pants, feeling his cock that was growing increasingly hard by the second.
