Panic spiked in my chest hot and sharp, like a dagger against my exhaustion. My jaw tightened as I realized exactly what I’d just done. I opened my mouth, scrambling for an excuse, causing a hesitation that was entirely unlike me when nothing sparked. It was a crack in the armor of our perfected act, and sharks like Cameron could smell blood in the water.
Before I could stutter anything out that resembled words, Silas stepped in without flinching. He took a slow sip of his coffee, and leaned back in his vinyl chair like he didn’t have a single care in the world.
“He’s coming with me to spend the week down on the Reed land,” he said, his voice smooth and perfectly relaxed. “Summertime on the water is a hell of a lot more fun than sweating to death on the concrete in Philly. Promised to show him how real rednecks live.”
Marty and the others continued to stare at us. I could see the gears turning in their heads, picking up on the oddness of the situation. The undisputed Heavyweight Champion, a notoriously solitary and guarded guy, who didn’t let anyone into his inner circle, was skipping his hometown to go vacation in the woods with his fiercest on-screen rival.
“Right,” Marty drawled as a sleazy smirk creeped onto his face. “I thought you had a girl back in Philly, Cal. She not going to be pissed you’re ditching her for the woods?”
My eyes darkened. “She lives in North Carolina.”
“Ohhhh.” One of the younger guys laughed, nudging Cameron in the ribs like they were in on an inside joke.
“Wait,” Cameron chuckled, leaning forward with a locker-room grin spreading across his face. “She lives in North Carolina? Is she just your girl, Cal? Or is Silas in on this, too? You boys sharing a little local talent out there in the woods?”
The silence that followed was heavy.
There was nothing I wanted more in this moment than to stand up and punch him in the throat or shatter his jaw. I could feel the muscles in my neck cord tight as my hands curled into massive fists where they rested on my thighs. My gaze remained on Cameron with a dead expression, while my eyes burned holes into his skull. I didn't say a word; neither did Silas. The silence stretched, toxic, suffocating, and incredibly dangerous.
Marty finally coughed, sensing the sudden, murderous shift in my demeanor. “Alright, well…we’re going to go grab food,” He picked up his bag and took a step back. “Catch you boys on the flip side.”
The second they were out of earshot, Evan let out a massive exhalation, burying his face in his hands. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, his voice muffled by his palms. He dragged his hands down his face, glaring at me. “You guys are really, really getting bad at pretending you’re not fucking.”
I slumped back in my chair, rubbing a rough hand over my face. “Fuck! I didn’t even think. It just slipped out.”
“It’s not getting easier, either,” Silas sighed, his perfect facade crumbling instantly. The sheer exhaustion of the lie settled deep into his bones as it did mine, and his shoulders sagged under the pressure. “We can’t keep doing this. The sneaking around and covering shit up. Letting them think we’re sharing some random woman just to throw them off the scent. It feels sick.”
“I know.” I dropped my hand to his knee, squeezing it tightly under the cover of his carry-on. “We’ll sit down with Presley and figure out the timing. I’m not doing this for another year. I’m done hiding you.”
Evan leaned closer to us. “Are you sure? I mean, I want you guys to be happy, obviously. But the locker room…the suits in production…they can be brutal. You guys have it good right now. You don’t know what they’ll do to your bookings.”
“Let them come,” I growled, my voice laced with venom. “If they want to bury me, they can try.”
“So,” Evan sighed, sitting up straight and cracking his knuckles with dramatic flair, “What you’re saying is, I’ve got a few months to prep for anyone who saysfuck-shit to you guys? Because let me tell you right now, if any of those assholes, either on the roster or in the stupid fucking suits, say a single word about you two being married, hey won’t have to worry about the heavyweights. I will be the first one to whoop their asses.”
Silas let out a startled laugh, the tension breaking. “I appreciate the muscle, Ev.”
“I’m entirely serious.” Evan pointed a finger at us. “I will go off the top rope on the Chairman himself if I have to.”
We, shockingly, had a row to ourselves in first class. Silas immediately sank into the window seat, letting his head fall against the cool glass, looking completely drained. I sat next to him, instantly lifting the armrest between us so I could press my thigh against his. I needed the contact just as much as he did.
As Si pulled out his phone to switch it to airplane mode, an email notification popped up at the top of his screen.
He opened the email, scanning the bullet points of the upcoming booking, and a low, miserable groan slipped out of his throat. He let his head thump back against the headrest, his eyes squeezed shut.
“What is it?” I asked, instantly on high alert.
“Creative,” Silas mumbled, He handed the phone without opening his eyes. “They’re officially putting me in a feud with Rico starting next week.”
I took the phone, my eyes scanning the screen. My jaw set.
From: UWF Creative
Subject: Post-San Juan Storyline - Reed vs. Rico
Rico wasn’t just another guy on the roster. He was a second-generation wrestler, and he hated Silas’s guts. Not storyline hate. Real, visceral, bitter hatred.Rico never forgave Silas for the botch and what happened to his uncle Julian that night. Silas spent years trying to make amends, to clear the air, quietly paying for Julian’s medical bills out of his own pocket, but Rico didn’t care. Rico was out for blood.
Where my on-screen feud with Silas had been poetic, built on a foundation of unshakeable trust, chemistry, and hidden love, a feud with Rico would get ugly. It was going to be stiff, chaotic, anddangerous.
