I remembered looking down from the top of the ladder. The chaos of the match below me had faded into a blur, and the only thing in focus was him. Cal. Looking up at me. His eyes weren’t filled with the rage of “Deadlock” or the competition of the match. They were pleading. They were heartbroken.
I remembered the split second where I froze because I didn’t want to jump. I didn’t want to fly. I just wanted to climb down and go home with him.
“I just remember looking down at Cal in the ring,” I admitted, the words tasting like ash.
Evan’s face fell. He knew what it meant. He knew why I hesitated. He knew that split second delay was the difference between a highlight reel and a tragedy. I didn’t want to think about it. My dad was none the wiser.
“That’s all you remember?” my dad pressed.
I nodded, instantly regretting the movement as the room spun.
“Did I hit the ground?” I asked, praying that’s what happened. Praying I just missed the spot and ate concrete. Bones heal. Concrete doesn’t have a family. Concrete doesn’t have a career.
Evan and Maverick exchanged a look. A heavy, loaded look that passed between them like a physical object.
My stomach dropped through the floor.
“Is Coranto okay?” Panic rose in my voice, pitching it higher.
“Coranto will be,” Maverick said, his tone shifting into that forced, fatherly reassurance he was so bad at. It sounded rehearsed. “He’s got some broken ribs. Leg’s banged up.”
My eyes shot to Evan. I knew they were leaving out details. I could see the lie sitting heavy on Evan’s tongue. I knew I’d fucked up.
Julian. Where was Julian?
“Martinez?”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Maverick said, waving a hand dismissively, as if waving away a waiter.
“No!” I tried to sit up, but the pain in my head spiked, a white-hot lance of agony that forced me back against the pillows with a gasp. “What the fuck happened!”
Maverick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at Evan, nodding for him to speak. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t deliver the bad news.
“When you came down… you landed on Julian,” Evan said, his voice shaking. He looked sick. “You didn’t clear the air like we thought you would. You came down on top of him. He was basically stuck under you and Camden.”
My mind swirled. The walls of the small room felt like they were closing in, shrinking until they were pressing against my chest. I couldn’t breathe. The beep of the heart monitor sped up, betraying my panic.
I landed on him.
“Camden’s leg took the brunt. He’s fine, but… it’s going to need time. A lot of it,” Evan continued, his voice barely a whisper. “Julian… it was spinal.”
The word hung in the air.Spinal.
“No word on if he can return to the ring as of now.”
The air left my lungs.
Tears filled my eyes instantly, hot and stinging. I ruined it. Everything. I was worse than my dad. Worse than Scott. I was supposed to be the technician. The safe one. The one who could work around the chaos. Instead, I had become the disaster. I ruined my life, and I ruined others.
“Cal?” I choked out.
Why did I fucking care? I knew he wasn’t hurt. He was nowhere near the crash zone. At least, I didn’t remember him being there. I couldn’t remember anything.
Evan saw it. The flash of pain in his eyes confirmed it. I hated it. I was sitting here in a hospital bed, broken and guilty, a destroyer of careers, and all my mind could think about was him.
I just wanted him.
I didn’t want my dad, standing there calculating the PR fallout. I didn’t want Evan, looking at me with pity. I didn’t want Scott, fluttering around with doctors.
