Page 88 of Heartbreaker
“How are you feeling about all of this?” Raelynn asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. She crosses her ankles, resting her chin on her knees. “Being back, working with him—”
“I don’t know, Rae,” I sigh.
I’m surprised she lasted this long before bringing this up. I was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t mention this on the drive back from Orlando last night. She and Brody have been generous enough to lend me their guest room during my return. This way, I can get some extra time in at the training facility when we’re not on the road.
“Being back, being in the ring, that feels right. It feels good. But being back also means being around him and…I still don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“It’s been two years, Sav. Don’t you think it’s time to have a conversation about things?” Raelynn asks. She waits a moment to gauge my response, but when she doesn’t get one, she sighs. “Or don’t. It’s not really any of my business. But either way, I think it’s time to let it go.” My best friend offers me a lopsided smile. “I get it, why you were upset, but—”
“There is no but, Rae.”
“But,” she continues, “was it worth it? Leaving…Was it really worth it?”
“I got it.” His voice sounds from the back of the Escalade when the driver opens my door, but I’m already stepping out with the older man’s assistance. Brooks offers him a tight but polite smile, coming to stand at my side. His hand hovers centimeters behind my lower back, just like earlier when we stepped off the plane, and I moved closer into his side on pure instinct. It took me by surprise how easily we began to move around each other after that—like we were part of a dance only we knew—especially after the awkwardly silent plane ride. It was like we hadn’t missed a beat.
When I arrived at the airport this morning, I rolled my eyes at the look on his face, like he’d won something. The problem was I didn’t have a choice—Noah had already told me to meet Brooks at the airport before he showed up at the center last night. I could have told him the truth, but when he walked in with expectations, it pissed me off. It made me wonder why he’d shown up in the first place. Wouldn’t Noah have told him I’d be tagging along? Maybe not. Maybe he conveniently left that part out, the same way he and Amos kept my identity a secret for two months.
Brooks and I kept our distance on the plane. It was big enough that he could have the back half while I occupied the front. It wasn’t until we got off the plane that he closed the space, reaching for me—the way he used to—as I took the final step onto the tarmac, and I moved closer without a second thought. He pulled away just before his hand landed on my back, and I hate to admit it, but I missed the warmth of his touch, missed the current of electricity that flowed over my skin just having him close.
Now, a crowd congregates near the door of the studio, and before we could get out, they began shouting different variations of our names, chants, and praises. Each one vies for our attention as security leads us toward the door, and despite Brooks urging me forward, I break away to greet the crowd. I do my best to keep up with the onslaught of items thrown my way to sign as I answer all of their questions. Most are about wrestling, but a few about me and Brooks are sprinkled in. It isn’t a secret that we dated outside the ring in the past, but the reason for our abrupt end is still something people speculate about. Cassandra and Kingsley love to send me articles, sometimes even video clips, of the times our relationship is brought up on their favorite gossip blogs. And if you’re wondering, no, I didn’t tell them the truth about why Brooks and I broke up. As far as everyone except Raelynn and Brody knows, we just…grew apart.
“Sav, c’mon,” Brooks calls from the door. The familiarity of it tugs at my insides and makes my heart ache.
I force a smile for one final picture and wave goodbye. As I step away from the barricade, my heel catches on the uneven sidewalk, and my misstep sends me stumbling backwards. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing to either slam into the ground or the steel barricade, but neither happens.
Someone catches me. Not someone—him. His fingers apply a delicious pressure to my waist, pulling me into him. Warmth blooms in my cheeks, spreading down my neck and chest. When I lift my gaze from my hands clutching the fabric of his button-up, the world stills.
The walls have fallen completely, and I see nothing but genuine concern in his deep blue eyes. Everyone around us disappears into the shadows of my peripheral vision, and suddenly it’s just the two of us standing in the middle of Manhattan.
“Thanks.” The word is nothing more than a whisper.
“You okay?” Brooks asks, hands still firm on my waist.
I nod and start to pull away to steady myself, but when I put weight on my left foot, a twinge radiates through my ankle. “Fuck,” I breathe out.
Brooks catches me again. “You can’t walk.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but his hands don’t fall from my side. “I’ll be fine, Brooks.” And I will be. I have to be. It’s just a small twinge—nothing I can’t handle or work through. Once I get out of these damn heels, it probably won’t bother me anymore. I push his hand away from my waist and follow security inside.
Mike Monahan, host of daytime talk showThe Mike Monahan Show, pulls me in for a tight hug when we walk on stage. He shakes hands with Brooks, who has barely left my side since my little stumble on the sidewalk. Mike motions us to the couch beside his oversized white chair. This is the first time I’ve realized Brooks and I will be in such close quarters, and we will be for the next three days. The distance we put between us when we sit only lasts a moment before his arm extends along the back of the couch. A spark ignites in the space between my shoulder and his fingertips, but he never closes the gap, letting his fingers dwell in that space, taunting me.
“Well, this is certainly a sight I never thought I’d see again,” Mike says, settled into his seat. He looks like a kid in a candy store, staring at us like one of those giant rainbow swirly pops through his eccentric rainbow-rimmed glasses. “Savvy SkyeandBrooks Taylor, together again!” If he only knew. “Sav, tell us, how does it feel to be back after two years? No! Over two years.”
“Practically two and a half,” Brooks mumbles. His words strike a nerve, but I refuse to let it show—I can’t, not right now, not here—and hold onto the smile I painted on this morning.
“Great,” I say. “There is nothing in the world like being in the squared circle.”
“What have you been doing since you left?” Mike asks. “It’s like you disappeared off the face of the earth. No one heard or saw much of you, except the little bit you posted on social media—Oh! Your brother got married recently, right?”
I run through the questions Mike poses before settling on the last one. It seems like the easiest and least loaded question to answer. “Yes, my oldest brother got married in February.”
“I think we…have a picture…Ah, yes! Here we go!” A photo appears on the screen nestled between his chair and the couch. The image brings a genuine smile to my face. Crew dips his new bride, Amara, planting a kiss on her lips in front of the newly blended families and wedding party, who throw their hands up with joy. “This is a good-looking group right here.”
“It was a perfect day. The weather was beautiful, and it was everything they wanted. I couldn’t ask for a better person for my brother.”
“It looked like you had a lot of fun that day, too.” Mike’s brow raises in suspicion, his words locked and loaded, and I get the feeling I’m not going to like what comes next. My suspicions are confirmed when the photo abruptly changes…This one is of me and Jax from the reception. His left hand rests on my waist, pulling me close. We hold drinks in our free hands, laughing at something behind the camera.
My ex-boyfriend and I had been in the middle of a conversation when the photographer asked for a photo. Then she promptly scolded us for not giving her a “real” smile. Nash, Brody, and Samuel heard and started goofing around behind the camera, which sent us into a fit of laughter.
