Page 81 of False Comeback

“Your redemption match was a wonderful performance,” Corey continued. “Seamless and technically outstanding, but still electrifying to watch. Holt has floated the idea of giving you two a running feud storyline. How would each of you feel about that? Crossbody?”

I pursed my lips and, after a pause, stiffly said, “It’s our job. So we’d do it.”

“Vince?”

“Like he said, it’s our job,” he muttered.

“Yes, but how do you feel about it? Do you like the idea of fighting Crossbody again?”

For some reason, the question made my pulse begin to race, skin prickling with awareness. Vince was stiff and silent on the couch beside me for a moment that stretched.

“Why don’t you ask Crossbody that question?” he eventually grated.

“I will. But I’m asking you first.”

“Crossbody can answer first.”

Corey went to pinch the bridge of his nose, forgetting about his glasses and knocking them with his fingers. “Vince, please.”

Vince exhaled a forceful breath through his nose, still hunched with his arms crossed, and I sensed him look over at me.

“Well, since I fought Crossbody, he hasn’t said a fucking word to me.”

I blinked and slowly turned my head to meet his gaze. His black eyes narrowed, cheeks still flushed.

I got the sense that he… perhaps wasn’t actually talking about wrestling or our match. Which confused me. I’d done what he wanted. I’d left him alone after our night at the motel.

“You haven’t said a word to me either.”

“This is good,” Corey whispered. “We’re getting somewhere.”

“You asked me to fight you,” Vince said tightly, hands clenching repeatedly into fists. “I fought you all fucking night.”

“All night?” Corey asked with a hint of confusion, then pointed his pen at Vince with a knowing nod. “Ah. Hyperbole, yes. True emotion. This is good. Keep going.”

Heat was flooding my cheeks, because I now knew without a doubt that Vince was definitely not referring to our wrestling matches.

“You were the one who kept saying that it was a one-time thing,” I snapped at him unsteadily, because I didn’t understand why he was angry. He was the one who’d been acting like nothing had happened between us.

Corey let out a tinkling laugh. “Well, I don’t know about one-time thing. That’s not really something in your control. Holt, actually, is the one who decides—”

“Does that mean you didn’t want it to be?” Vince interrupted, breathing faster, still staring at me with burning black eyes. “You wanted it again? You want me to fight you again?”

“Do you want to fight me again?” I shot back, trying to keep my breaths calm as my heart started to pound.

“Answer the question, Crossbody.”

“What difference does it make?” I snapped. “We agreed—”

“Fuck what we agreed. Just tell me.”

I stared at him, breathing hard. We were both breathing hard. In my peripheral vision, I could see Corey leaning forward in his seat and watching avidly.

“If you want me to fight you again, I’ll fucking fight you again,” Vince rasped, making my breath catch.

“I…” My voice trembled, skin growing warm again. “I don’t want a pity fu—fight from you.”

“It wouldn’t be a pity fight,” Vince gritted out, like he was reluctant to admit it.