Page 7 of Heartbreaker
Holy shit, she’s right, I thought as we walked out to the field. I hadn’t thought about Conner once since John had come to my aid. I had been too busy thinking about the one man I knew I couldn’t have.
Kingsley and Cassandra finally stopped asking questions about that night about a month ago. They’d randomly bring it up, trying to pry any information from me they could, especially when I’d turn down anyone who came up to me when we’d go out. But the truth was, I don’t want to start hooking up with other guys—John or no John. That wasn’t me.
My phone vibrates from somewhere on the bed, ripping me from the memories, and before I can find it, there are five more dings. That can only mean one thing: the Williams sibling group chat. Years ago, my youngest brother, Bodhi, had properly named it The Inner Circle.
The first message is from my second-oldest brother, Nash. It comes with a link to an application for tryouts at Elite Wrestling Entertainment set to take place next month. He cannot be serious. Nash is a lot of things, but a professional wrestler is not one of them. When we were little, Nash and Crew were obsessed with wrestling; without fail, they would watch EWE every Monday night and Saturday morning. Somehow, I always found myself caught in the middle of their matches, until Crew grew out of it by the time he turned fifteen and got a girlfriend. Nash, though, never did. He still watches every week, but he has finally come to accept that it’s not real…I think.
A wave of laughing faces floods the chat after that.
What is that supposed to mean? I could be a wrestler if Iwantedto be. Between my background in cheerleading, volleyball, and dance, I could hold my own in the ring.
That one stings a little, but I know the twins don’t mean it the way I’m taking it. Blake and Bodhi are the youngest Williams siblings. They came as a surprise, born five years after my parents decided they were done having kids. They’re good boys, but too smart for their own good, and sometimes think they’re better…no, smarter than their older siblings. Mamá and Papá would never admit it—refuse to, actually—but they spoil the twins, and in my humble opinion (not that it matters), I think it’s setting them up to be crushed by the real world sooner rather than later. Sometimes, I worry for them when they go off to college in two years.
I try to think of a response, but the only one that comes to mind shocks me. Their remarks ignite a desire within me to not only prove the twins wrong, but all four of my brothers. And proving them wrong would mean…trying out for EWE. What am I saying? That’s crazy. I’m not going to try out for EWE.
I know they’ve been going back and forth for a few minutes now, but my brain hasn’t moved on from Nash’s textdaringme to try out. The longer I stare at it, the more I think I’m starting to consider it…No, what am I saying?
“Fuck it,” I say, opening the link Nash sent earlier. What’s the harm in trying? “Not like I’ll make it anyway.” My fingers tremble slightly the whole time I fill out the required information. One of the questions stops me:How many years have you been wrestling?
Is that a requirement? Surely not. It can’t bethathard. Whatever moves they throw at me, I can figure it out. And if all else fails, I’d follow what everyone else is doing.
Taking a deep breath, I enter a zero in the space before coming to the end. The bright red “Submit” button stares back at me, but my thumb only hovers over it. Am I really going to do this? This isn’t me. This isn’t even close to what I want to do with my life, but maybe that’s the point. I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do after college, but I can’t find the answer. I’ve been thinking about stepping down from the Wildcats after this season. This will be my third season with the team, and I’m not sure I have another one left in me. I’m supposed to graduate in May, which leaves me only six more months to find something else to do if I decide not to stick with the team, and I’ve procrastinated lining up a job after graduation.
Maybe this is the change I’ve been looking for.
My thumb presses down, and in less than a second, the confirmation page appears.Thank you for submitting your application to Elite Wrestling Entertainment.We will be in touch with your next steps!
Holy shit, I did it.
The conversation between my brothers has finally died down, but something tells me it’s about to start up again. Fortunately, I have to get ready to leave for the stadium, which means I won’t have time to answer the slew of texts about to hit my phone. A smile tugs at my lips as I type the words and hit send, followed by a picture of the confirmation page, before tossing my phone in my purse.
Christmas at Willow Pond Farm is anything but a silent night, especially with four boys running amok. By some miracle, Coach made the last-minute decision to change practice from the normal evening start time to first thing this morning. Even though the squad was tired after the Los Angeles game last night, not a single one of us complained. How could we? Practice would be over by noon, and we’d have the next three days off. By early afternoon, I was in the car, driving two-and-a-half hours straight to my family’s ranch just outside of Celestia.
When I arrived at my family’s ranch two hours ago, Mamá was prepping dinner, and I’ve been wrist-deep in a variety of dishes since I walked in the door. Green bean casserole, homemade mashed potatoes, stuffing, mac’n’cheese, salad, and Easter bread are just a few of the staples we prepared.
My sixteen-year-old twin brothers finally dragged themselves out of bed about an hour ago, and when I glanced at my mother with a cocked brow, she wiped her hands on her blue-striped apron and started loading food into the oven, pretending not to notice. I didn’t have to say it for her to know what I was thinking. She’d heard it more than enough times, but it never ceased to amaze me the difference in how the twins get away with things my older brothers and I could never.
Speaking of my older brothers…theystillhaven’t shown up. Mamá said they were out in the field moving the cattle, which meant they could be home in an hour or maybe three, depending on how much they fucked around. Without Papá joining them, Crew and Nash are more likely to mess around while they work. Not that I blame them, it keeps the day from dragging. My brothers chose to work on the ranch after high school, while I decided to pursue college and cheerleading. However, Nash recently accepted a job as one of Celestia High School’s football and lacrosse coaches, which gives him some purpose outside of the ranch, and I think it’s been good for him. I always knew he’d get bored with the farm life, unlike Crew. Our oldest brother enjoys his simple life; it was obvious when we were kids that he’d take over one day. He enjoyed being on the ranch, liked working with the animals, with his hands, and with Papá. Sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks about life outside Celestia—of all the things he could be doing—but when I asked him about it a few years ago, Crew said the ranch was his home and working here gave him a purpose.
Speak of the devils.
There’s a loud commotion outside the back door before Crew shoves Nash inside and smacks him on the back of the head.Typical.Wonder what he did this time.
Nash rubs his head, glaring at our brother, before he notices me. His grimace lifts into a smile before he shares a knowing glance with Crew. With a nod, they split the difference, coming around either side of the kitchen island.Shit, I know what’s coming.
“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” Nash says, knowing that I have nowhere to run. I try to use my mother as a blockade to get away, but he grabs hold of my waist, hoisting me onto his shoulder. He spins in a circle at least five times before I lose count.
When I beg for help, Crew’s only response is a hearty laugh. He pulls one of the chilled water bottles from the fridge that Mamá keeps ready and waiting for them. “Better learn how to get out of it if you’re going to be a wrestler, Sav,” Crew says.
Nash comes to a complete stop, but my head doesn’t. The world continues to spin long after he sets me back on my feet. Even with my eyes closed, I can see the way his eyes bug out of his head, looking between me and Crew. I hear Mamá chuckle to herself from somewhere behind us. “What did you just say?” Nash asks. “Did you just say…Savannah! You’re going to be a…Holy shit! You mean you actually did it?”
I glare at Crew. “Thanks, I was saving that for later.”
“Sue me,” he says with a shrug. Mamá swats at his hand when he swipes a green bean from the platter beside her and says a few scolding words in Spanish. He laughs, popping the vegetable in his mouth before he walks back outside, probably to join Papá at the grill.
“Are you punking me?” Nash asks.
“Nope,” I say, and straighten out my shirt after his assault. “I got the call on Thursday.”
