Page 116 of Heartbreaker
And whatever comes next, I know this is one thing I’ll never get tired of.
“Is he hurt or just selling?” one of the producers calls out from behind their monitor while the others scramble to get an answer from ringside.
“Stay onBrooks,” Noah directs into his headset, and the monitor hung in the corner switches to show my husband on the floor, not moving. My breath catches in my lungs, and only when he begins to stir do I breathe out.
“He’s just selling!” another production aide answers. “Looks like he’s hurt the shoulder, though.”
“Tell them to wrap it up before someone gets hurt. That’s the last thing we need tonight.” Noah glances over his shoulder at me, but I ignore him.
BrodyhaulsBrooksto his feet, and I see him whisper something before John gives him a quick nod that you wouldn’t notice unless you knew what to look for.Brodyshoves him into the ring, but before he can climb in,Brookspops up to his feet and stomps down on his head, hands, and back. Satisfied with his attack,Brooksclimbs up to the top turnbuckle and launches off the turnbuckle into a frog splash, sending them both down to the mat. He hooks the leg, butBrodykicks out at two.
Brookstakes hold of his opponent’s ankle, wrapping his arms firmly around the joint and threading his hands together to create a lock. He turns the ankle, applying an immense amount of pressure for the Legacy Lock, his submission move. There’s a flash of pain in his eyes when he liftsBrody’s foot further in the air, dragging him away from the bottom rope, and it tells me that the fall out of the ring was more than just selling.
Brodyshakes his head, refusing to tap, even whenBrookstorques the joint further. He attempts to roll forward, but can’t.
Brooksplants his feet firmly on the mat, tightens his grip, and lands a blow to his opponent’s calf.Brodycries out only once before he internalizes the pain, harnessing it, and when his captor loosens his grip to readjust, it gives him the opening he needs. SlingshottingBrooksinto the ropes,Brodyhits him on the rebound with a hard clothesline, leveling him. He pulls his opponent up by the wrist, lifts him onto his shoulder, and carries him—slowly, shakily—to the turnbuckle. He pauses momentarily, and to anyone else it would look like he’s just trying to catch his breath, but I know better. He’s letting it all sink in. The meaning behind this match is finally catching up to him.
“Why is he climbing the turnbuckle?” I whisper. His movements catch me off guard—with John still on his shoulder, Brody climbs the ropes until he’s standing on the top one. What in the fuck is he doing? “You cannot be serious.”
I rise from my chair, watching the scene unfold. They haven’t done this spot in so long, and they’re both exhausted after wrestling for almost an hour at this point. Why in the hell would they try this? They know better.
The crowd gasps—hell, even some of the producers gasp. Only two people don’t seem surprised: Noah and Callum, the recently discovered long-lost son of the late Amos Rafferty. They both watch intently, waiting for the final spot.
Brodypauses at the top, steadying his feet.
“Noah,” I call out, my eyes still glued to the screen, but he doesn’t answer. I’m starting to understand why John told me they hadn’t decided on a finisher. He didn’t want me to know because he knew I would have lost my mind. Death Valley is one of “The Reaper”Brody Wilder’s old finishing moves, one that he retired years ago, but apparently, he’s bringing it back for this special occasion. A dangerous move if done improperly. One wrong move, and you could paralyze your opponent.
With a final breath,The Reapersails off the top turnbuckle. He drives his knees into the mat, tossingBrooksoff his shoulders and slamming him sideways into the mat. His upper back and shoulders take the brunt of the fall, digging into the mat in a hard, but proper, fall. It’s still too close for comfort. The entire ring shakes from the impact as both men lay arms wide in the center of the ring.
Neither man moves for what feels like hours until, slowly,Brodydrapes himself acrossBrooksand hooks the leg.
One…
Two…
Three…
The bell rings and the crowd erupts.
Neither man moves at first, catching their breath beforeBrodypushes himself upright. He looks around the arena and then back at his best friend, a genuine smile tugging on his lips. Standing, he reaches his hand down toBrooks.
That’s when the walls come down, and it’s no longer “The Reaper”Brody Wilderand EWE golden boyBrooks Taylorin the ring. This is Brody Wilder and John Brooks, best friends…brothers. Brody pulls his best friend into a tight embrace, whispering something to him that makes them both chuckle, eyes shining beneath the arena lights. A low rumble forms among the crowd, and I think they’re starting to catch on to what’s happening.
A warm hand squeezes my shoulder as I stand in the center of gorilla. Tears burn my eyes, and when I glance over my shoulder, Noah stands there. He pulls me into an embrace as we watch John take a microphone from a ring-side aide.
My husband stands in the center of the ring, and Brody finds home in one of the corners. They’re both battered and bruised, a layer of perspiration reflecting off their skin, and both men are still visibly emotional. He chuckles, rubbing his chin and running his tongue over his teeth, trying to keep it in check a little longer.
“I don’t really know where to begin, but I’ll start with thank you. Twenty-one years ago, I stepped foot in the EWE ring for the first time, and it changed my life forever.Youguys changed my life forever. Without you, none of this would be possible. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love, and none of us would. I’m so very grateful that you have allowed me to share this space with you for over two decades.”
Visible emotion begins to cross the faces of those in the front rows, hanging on to every word he says, waiting for the inevitable.
John runs a hand over his recently cropped hair, his shoulders rising and falling with a heavy breath. He glances over at his best friend, and Brody gives him a reassuring nod. “Brody, we’ve been doing this for a long time together…Over two decades. My brother. My road buddy. My ultimate rival and best tag partner. You’re the only person who knocked me on my ass, and I thanked him for it. Brody, we started this journey together, and it was only right that it ended that way, too.”
“BRO-DY!” the crowd chants, and Brody waves them off with a bashful smile.
“The last twenty-one years with Elite Wrestling have been the journey of a lifetime. You’ve watched me grow up in this ring. Watched me win titles, lose titles, bleed, overcome injuries that should’ve taken me out for good, and stand toe-to-toe with the best in the business.” His face softens. “But the best thing this ring ever gave me is my wife.” A wide grin echoes the sound of the crowd, and I swear I feel the building shake beneath my feet. “How I ever convinced her to marry me, I don’t know, but—”
Brody cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “You got lucky!”
