Page 65 of Glorious Ruin
It was exactly what I needed, a total and forceful reset of my brain. Hearing him talk like that, with raw, unfiltered possessiveness and deep-seated primal lust, all while explicitly ordering me to see myself through his eyes, shattered the spiral completely. My insecurity couldn’t survive in the face of his absolute worship.
After retrieving my truck from Scott’s space, we sat on the bed in our pajamas, staring at each other. The time had come, and there was no way we could avoid it any longer. I reached forward, collecting both our phones from the end of the bed, and handed Si his.
“Ready?” I asked.
Silas took a deep breath. “Ready.”
We turned them on at the same time, and it was instant. The vibrations were constant. A digital avalanche of missed calls, texts, DM’s, alerts, and tags that didn’t stop for a full three minutes.
The first thing I saw was a more recent text from Scott:
I’m sorry about Mav. He’s an old fool and he’s already regretting it, but too stubborn to say it. You guys did what you had to do. We’ve got you. Talk soon.
Silas, meanwhile, was staring at his screen, his face turning a shade of pale that made me reach for his hand.
“Voicemail,” he whispered. “From Presley.”
He clicked it, and the quiet room was suddenly filled with the sound of Presley Murran screaming:
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MINDS?! I told you, I specifically told you, no spectacle! I told you to stay quiet! And you go and pull a stunt like this? You elope and post it to the world? You two are in huge, irrevocable trouble. You will be dealt with accordingly. Monday morning, in Minneapolis. Be there, or don’t bother coming back at all. You’re lucky my father isn’t your boss, because the punishment would have been a million times worse. You’ve killed the Reed name, Silas. I hope it was worth it.”
Silas and I looked at each other for a beat. Then, unexpectedly, Silas started to giggle. It was a small, bubbling sound that turned into a full-on laugh. I laughed, too, the sheer absurdity of Presley’s tantrum finally hitting home.
“‘Killed the Reed name,’” Silas wheezed, wiping his eyes. “He’s so dramatic. It’s like he thinks he’s in a movie.”
“He’s just mad he didn’t get to sell the wedding on pay-per-view.” I shook my head. “Let him scream. We’re married. He can’t fire us for being in love.”
“I’d like to see him try.”
The next day was spent packing and doing laundry. We’d be heading to Minneapolis to meet Presley and for the Monday night taping. Our house was a mess of open suitcases and discarded clothes, but the energy felt different, more purposeful.
A heavy knock pounded against our front door, and my hackles rose. It felt like a threat. I didn’t want to answer it. The world outside of our blissful bubble was still very much on fire. Every time I looked at my phone, there was a new headline or tag, but worst of all, each notification brought back the memory of Maverick’s hands on me.
So, when I opened the front door and saw Maverick Reed standing on the porch, my jaw instantly locked. He was holding a cardboard drink carrier with two coffees, looking uncharacteristically awkward as his eyes admired his boots. I let him in, though, only because Silas asked me to with a silent look.
For twenty minutes, the atmosphere had been filled with an awkward silence. Maverick was in the recliner while Silas and I sat stiffly on the couch. It was obvious Maverick was here to try and apologize, but he wasterribleat it. I don’t think he had a clue as to where to begin.
“I overreacted, Cal,” he finally grunted, staring into his black coffee. “I come from a different era. One where you protect the gold and protect the business firstand foremost. Finding out you two ran off and got hitched while the dirt sheets were blowing up… It threw me. But, I shouldn’t have put my hands on you.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” I said tightly while glancing at Silas.
He sat perfectly upright, playing the stoic son, but I could see the tension in his jaw. I couldn’t sit there anymore. I was going to lose my mind. The intensity in the air was too thick. I was suffocating.
“I’m gonna go make a smoothie.”
Silas blinked. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
“So? I want a smoothie.” I walked into the kitchen.
My weight pressed heavily against the marble counter as I placed my phone face-down on the stone. I needed a minute to breathe. I dumped some frozen berries, yogurt, and protein powder into the blender before slamming it against its base.
The roar of the motor was deafening, but it was exactly what I needed to drown out all thoughts and sounds. I stood there for two full minutes, letting the machine scream as I attempted to blend out my own anger. When I shut it off, the sudden silence was just as intense. Drink in hand, I took a deep breath and headed once again for the living room.
I stepped through the archway and stopped dead.
Maverick was still in the recliner, watching an old fishing show on the TV, looking completely unfazed. But right next to him, completely upside down, was Silas.
The backs of his knees were hooked over the back of the couch, his long legs dangling behind it. His head hung completely off the edge as his hair swept across the floor. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, as he casually watched the fishing show upside down.
