Page 34 of Glorious Ruin
He was mine.
“You’re going to wear a hole in your finger doing that,” I murmured near his ear so the tourists in front of us wouldn’t catch it.
Silas tilted his head, meeting my gaze. The soft, powerful look of all-consuming devotion in his eyes hit me like a physical blow. The dark shade along his cheek bones was prominent, his curls strewn in a messy halo, but he had never looked more beautiful.
“Just making sure it’s real,” he whispered back, exhaustion evident in his tone.
My lips twitched into a small, fiercely private smile. I squeezed his hip, pulling him closer against my side.
“It’s real,” I promised.
“God, you two are nauseating,” Evan groaned from behind us.
I turned to see Evan balancing three massive iced coffees in a cardboard carrier. God, He looked like he’d slept for maybe two hours. His blond hair was sticking up in odd directions, and dark circles painted the skin under his eyes. He shoved one of the plastic cups into my hand and handed another to Silas with a huff.
“Thanks, Ev,” Si sighed, taking a long, desperate pull of the caffeine like it was liquid gold.
We dragged ourselves out of line and over to a cluster of empty, vinyl chairs, barricading ourselves behind our luggage. Evan was flying to the Midwest for the next leg of the Showdown tour, while Silas and I were finally heading home to North Carolina for a week of desperately needed downtime.
Silas stretched his long legs out over his duffel bag. “I can’t believe Lena actually went home early.”
“I told her to,” Evan replied, taking a sip of his coffee. The usual spark of playfulness that lurked behind his eyes was dim. “She’s a mess. The breakup with her girlfriend got really ugly right before she flew out here. She’s been trying to hold it together for the cameras and the media scrums, but the second we got back to the hotel Sunday night, she just cracked. I believe she talked to Creative and got the okay to take a few days off. She needs to go and be human for a little while, not a superstar.”
“Good.” I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my knees. I hated seeing my friends break under the weight of this job. “This business will chew you up and spit you out if you don’t step away when your head isn’t right. She needs to protect her peace. The fans will survive without her for a bit.”
Silas looked at me, a swell of affection softening his tired features. I knew he appreciated how fiercely protective I was of our circle.
“It’s weird, though,” Evan mused, looking between the two of us, his eyes narrowing. “Being here without her. No one keeping us on our toes. You guys are basically unsupervised.”
“We’re doing fine,” Si laughed.
“Yeah, well, try to keep the heart-eyes to a minimum,” Evan teased, though there was a fond, protective edge to his voice. “I don’t need a dirt-sheet reporter snapping a photo of you two making googly eyes over a latte.”
Before I could fire off a sarcastic comeback, a booming, obnoxious voice rang out over the dull roar of the terminal.
“Deadlock! Reed! Wilder!”
My spine stiffened, every muscle in my back locking into place like a jail-cell door. I looked up to see a group of four guys walking toward us. Two were veterans, Cameron Cruise and Marty Landon. They had been in the UWF locker room since Silas was a teenager. Men who knew both his father and uncle. The other two were younger call-ups from Aftershock I hadn’t bothered to get to know.
They all had their oversized headphones pulled down around their necks, carrying big gym bags and projecting that loud, abrasive alpha energy that permeated every wrestling locker room on earth.
“Hey, boys.” My voice dropped into that smooth, guarded, albeit slightly-aggressive octave I used for work. I didn’t physically pull away from Silas, but the emotional wall slammed down around me instantly. I was back on the clock.
“Hell of a main event the other night,” Cameron said as he dropped his bag onto an empty chair across from us. “You boys beat the absolute piss out of each other.”
“That’s the job,” I smirked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Where you guys headed?” the younger Aftershock kid asked, eager to fit in with the veterans. “We’re connecting through Atlanta to hit Chicago for the loop.”
“Chicago.” Evan nodded casually. “I’m on the Showdown loop, too. Flying into O’Hare in a few hours.”
“What about you, Kincaid?” Marty asked, locking eyes with me. “You heading back to Philly to parade around your hometown?”
“Uh, no,” I said casually, the words leaving my mouth before I could process them. “Flying to North Carolina.” My brain, which was usually a steel trap, completely betrayed me. I was so thoroughly saturated in the fog of our engagement, so focused on the fact that I was going home with Silas to the house he had built for us, that the lie didn’t even surface.
Cameron raised a thick eyebrow, his gaze moving from me, to Silas, then back to me.
“North Carolina?” Marty repeated, confusion plain on his scarred face. “The fuck is in North Carolina for you? You don’t live there.”
