Page 137 of Wild Side
Plus, Crazy Clyde was the absurd entertainment I never knew I needed. The man himself showed up in a wheelchair, looking sicklier than I do, while spouting off about how he knows a guy who has a medical blog that could give me a second opinion. All I need to do is send him my scans.
West laughed, and Bash and Ford groaned. It all felt… familiar somehow. A good reminder that I have so much back in Rose Hill. Even if one of those things is an old man who believes every conspiracy theory ever recorded.
Gripping the bar, I repeat sitting and standing, still experiencing lingering traces of numbness but feeling significantly better. For a while, I wasn’t sure I would. But every day is an improvement.
“Kid, aren’t you supposed to be back on the road?” I ask Will.
He props against the wall. “No.”
“I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“I’m taking a break.”
I look up at him as the therapist says something to me about focusing on pushing through my heel. I ignore him, glaring at Will instead. “A break?”
He shrugs. “Gotta get my head right before I step back in the ring. Maybe get more practice under my belt.”
“Will, you’re on track to be a company superstar. Don’t do this. Don’t blame yourself. Shit happens in this business sometimes. We gotta pick up and move on. I fully intend to be back in that ring, kicking your ass.”
He smiles, but it’s forced—flat. “Okay.”
“Honey, I’m home!” Tabitha calls from the door, her hair still damp like she rushed to get back here.
“All right.” Will ducks his head like he can barely face Tabitha. “I’m out.”
He breezes past her, but she follows him into the hallway, where I see her wrap him in a firm hug that he barely returns. It chokes me up a little to see him suffering like this, and I don’t know what to tell him to make it better.
I hope Tabitha does. I watch her lips move as she holds him by the shoulders. Tiny little spitfire manhandling a huge professional wrestler. She gives him a little shake, no doubt doling out her own special brand of tough love.
He said he was going to win her over, but I doubt he realizes that he already has.
When she walks back in, she seems distracted. I can see the wheels turning as her teeth strum at her bottom lip, but that faraway look disappears when my physio announces, “Honestly, I think you can go home.”
CHAPTER 48
RHYS
“I think breakingyour back made you a better bowler,” West exclaims as I throw my first ever strike.
Although I still feel a slight unsteadiness, I am officially healed enough to bowl—which I am unexpectedly excited about.
Bash groans and scrubs a hand over his face. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”
Ford’s dry “No” makes me laugh.
West just chuckles, rolling with the punches. “What fun would that be? You smile so pretty when I say shit like that.”
That gets chuckles from Ford and me, but not Bash. He stares at West with his best resting bitch face. He’s always been friendly enough with me. I can’t tell if his humor is just really dry or if he’s genuinely in this bad of a mood all the time.
“Ooh. You’re hitting me with the Gwen smolder. I like it!”
Now it’s Ford’s and my turn to groan. We all know there’s something weird between them, but usually we tiptoe around it. Bash isn’t exactly forthcoming.
“There is no Gwen smolder.”
Ford scoffs. “There isdefinitelya smolder.”
Bash turns to me, clearly searching for backup since the two of us have forged a tentative sort of friendship.
