Page 14 of Between the Ropes

I fall down the rabbit hole, watching match after match—the chair shots, the ambushes, the bloody wars. And every time, it’s more than just competition. It's personal. Deeply personal. There are moments where the punches feel too real, where the hatred bleeds through every move.

Finally, I open an article titled“Inside the Ryan Pierce & Kyle Jenkins Feud – From the Indie Circuits to UXW”.

The article details years of clashes—starting from their early days wrestling for scraps, sharing locker rooms and long road trips... until it all went south. A falling out. A betrayal.

Jenkins and Pierce were once allies—tag partners dominating the indie scene. But in 2018, everything changed when Jenkins turned on Pierce mid-match, costing him the regional title. The rivalry that erupted from that night has never cooled, burning through every promotion they’ve foughtin since. Now, under the UXW banner, their war is more heated than ever.

My heart races as I close the laptop, my screen going dark. The tension between them... it’s years deep. A wound that never healed.

And now, somehow, I’m in the middle of it.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. Suddenly, everything feels heavier—the air, the room, the job I signed up for. This isn’t just wrestling. It’s history. It’s personal. And if I’m not careful, I might get caught in the crossfire.

The next day, I arrive at the arena earlier than I need to, partly because I want to get a head start on setting up my space, and partly because I don’t know how to sit still. The hotel feels like a cage, and I need to get out of there before I go crazy. My temporary office is small but functional. I take a moment to rearrange things—move the massage table a little closer to the window, set up my oils, get the diffuser going, turn on the towel warmer, and arrange the rest of my equipment in a way that feels more... me, and not so clinical. I light a scented candle and dim the lights just a bit. I prop my laptop open on the counter and get it ready to add any new information as the day goes on.

Once everything’s set up, I still have time to kill before the first wave of talent arrives. The arena is a maze of backstage corridors and equipment. I take my coffee cup and decide to explore a little, eventually wandering toward the cafeteria. As soon as I step in, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and food hits me. They have all the healthy options, salads with grilled chicken, fruit cups, every kind of protein shake imaginable, typical thingsathletes eat. My stomach growls, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.

I spot Ryan instantly. It’s like a magnet, that pulls me straight to him. He’s sitting at a table with Travis Moreno, I only know who he is from studying my UXW roster, both of them engrossed in conversation. He has his long hair tied back in a bun. He’s wearing one of his own t-shirts, the blue logo stretching from the size of his muscular chest. My stomach does a weird flip, but I tell myself to ignore it. It’s fine. I’m about to wave when our eyes meet from across the room, and for a second, I swear something shifts in his expression. His brows furrow, his gaze sharpens—then, just like that, he looks away. He doesn’t give me a second glance.

I stand there, mid-wave, my hand freezing in midair as he turns his back to me. My chest tightens, and the room suddenly feels a little smaller. What the hell? I thought everything was fine. But the way he just deliberately avoided me makes it clear that something’s off. Maybe it’s all in my head, but... it doesn’t feel that way. Did I do something to piss Ryan Pierce off?

I sigh, lowering my hand and walking over to refill my coffee, my appetite suddenly vanishing into thin air. A few other wrestlers and crew members are scattered around, chatting, reviewing notes for tonight's show, but I don’t feel like lingering. I head back to my office, clutching my coffee like it’s some kind of lifeline.

Once I’m back in my space, I sit down at my desk, trying to push the encounter from my mind. Focus on the job, Natalie. Ryan Pierce is just another wrestler—one of many I’ll be working with. He’s no different, no matter how magnetic he is or how confusing he’s been acting. Just because he is the first person I met here does not mean that the two of us have to be friends. He was simply doing his job, he has no obligation to be nice to me.

I don’t have long to dwell on it because soon enough, my first client of the day arrives—Chrissy Simms. I’ve seen her on TV before, but she’s even more striking in person. Her platinum blonde hair cascades down her back, almost reaching her waist, and her frame is tiny but perfectly lean, with muscles that are deceptively strong. She’s the kind of person who could light up a room without trying.

“Natalie!” she exclaims, her voice full of warmth and energy as she bursts into the room. “I’ve heard all about you. Welcome to UXW!”

I smile, instantly feeling at ease around her larger-than-life personality. “Thanks. It’s been great so far.” She is the first person to welcome me so warmly, everyone else has been straight to business, Chrissy makes me feel human, and I am so grateful.

Chrissy hops up onto the massage table, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she tells me about her previous injury. “Rotator cuff,” she says, rolling her shoulder slightly. “It flares up every now and then, and Stephen thought you might be able to help. I need to be at a hundred percent tonight, and I trust him, so if he says you’re good, I’m all in.”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. “We’ll get you sorted. Let’s start slow and see how the muscle reacts. If you feel any discomfort, let me know.” I smile softly at her.

As I work on Chrissy’s shoulder, I let myself get lost in the rhythm of the massage. It’s what I’m good at, and I feel a sense of calm as my hands move expertly across her skin, kneading the tension away. She chatters on, telling me about her match later tonight, her plans for the future, and how much she loves working for UXW. It’s nice, having someone so welcoming and open on a day when my thoughts keep drifting toward less pleasant things—like Ryan.

He’s been friendly enough in the past, so what’s changed in the last day? I don’t think I did anything to offend him. Before we came to Boston, everything seemed fine, but now... it’s like he’d rather avoid me altogether. And I can’t shake the feeling that I did something wrong, even though I can’t pinpoint what that could be.

Chrissy sighs with satisfaction as I finish up, her shoulder feeling noticeably looser. “You’re a miracle worker,” she says with a grin. “I’ll definitely be coming back.”

“Glad I could help,” I reply, smiling despite the knot of confusion still twisting in my chest.

As she leaves, I take a deep breath, trying to remind myself that everything will work out. It’s only my second day, and I’m already proving myself. I can do this. I busy myself creating a file for Chrissy on my computer. I do my best to keep busy, but it’s not easy.

10

My back's killing me, and I know it. I’ve been trying to hide the limp all morning, but Stephen’s knows me too well. The moment I step into the medical room, his eyes narrow, zoning in on the way I’m favoring my right leg. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness, but it’s useless. It’s been like this since the last flight—tight, sore, and threatening to pull me under if I don’t take care of it.

"Ryan." Stephen’s voice is firm, already loaded with that disappointment I hate. "You're limping."

I grit my teeth and shrug, trying to play it off. "It’s fine. Just stiff. I'll be fine after a good stretch."

Stephen's not buying it, not even for a second. "Sit down." He motions to the chair, his no-nonsense expression setting the tone. I drop into the chair, too tired to argue. He starts examining my back, pushing and pulling at muscles that feel likethey’re tied in knots. When he hits a particularly tender spot, I flinch and suck in a deep breath, he mutters under his breath shaking his head. He's aggravated.

"This isn’t just stiffness, Ryan. You’re inflamed again, and you know it. How long has it felt like this?" He sighs, sitting down beside me, his tone shifting to something gentler but no less serious. "This is your year, man. You’ve worked too damn hard to mess it up because you won’t take care of yourself. You do want to be able to walk when you’re an old man, right?"

I clench my fists, not wanting to hear it, but knowing he’s right. I’m stubborn, always have been. I’ve been pushing myself too hard. I can feel the strain building in my back like a coiled spring ready to snap. I’ve been here before, but this time... this time, I’ve got too much on the line. The championship is within reach, closer than it’s ever been. I can’t afford to fuck it up now. If I do, I don’t know that there will be another chance down the line. The clock is always ticking.

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