Page 20 of Between the Ropes

“This is family business,” he slurs, waving a hand in the air as if that’s going to make me back off. “My niece here—she’s gotten herself a big fancy job and suddenly thinks she’s too good to help out her own family.”

I step closer, towering over him. My fists clench so tight my knuckles ache. “Family?” I growl, my gaze flicking to Natalie. She’s trembling, her shoulders drawn tight like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I’m only gonna say this once. You stay away from her. You come near her again, and I will rip you the fuck apart.”

His mouth opens, probably to argue, but I take another step forward. The look on my face must shut him up because he stumbles backward, muttering something under his breath. He’s pathetic. Nothing but a leech.

“You heard me, right?” I say, my voice cold, flat. “Get the hell out of here.”

After a long pause, he sneers and finally retreats into the night. Good riddance.

When I turn back to Natalie, she looks like she’s about to break. Her hands are shaking, her face pale, and tears glisten in her eyes, threatening to spill over. But she’s holding on, trying so damn hard to stay strong.

“Come on,” I murmur, stepping toward her, my voice softening. “Let’s get you inside.”

She doesn’t argue, just nods, her shoulders slumping in defeat. I guide her through the hotel entrance, keeping close, my hand hovering near her back. By the time we reach her room, the tension in her body is palpable. The second the door clicks shut behind us, she crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking as the tears spill over. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so embarrassed.”

I shake my head, stepping closer. I can’t stop myself from reaching out, my hand resting on her arm. “You don’t owe me an apology. He’s the one who should be sorry. And you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You can’t choose your family.”

Her eyes meet mine, filled with pain and exhaustion. “He’s been like that my whole life. Ever since my parents died, he’s been this... weight I can’t get rid of. I thought I was finally free when I left Florida. But he found me. He always finds me. I just want to be free. I just want to move on and start fresh.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She doesn’t deserve this. Not after everything she’s been through. I know how she's feeling. I know what it's like to want to start over, to want to rewrite your past.

“You don’t owe him anything,” I tell her, my voice firm. “You’ve worked hard to build a life for yourself. You don’t owe that asshole a damn thing. Don’t you dare let him take this from you. You earned this. You worked for this, not him.”

She sniffles, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, but her shoulders keep shaking. “He never cared about me. He just wanted money. I’ve always just been a paycheck to him. I’mfinally doing something for myself, and he... he just won’t let me go.”

I can’t take it anymore. I step closer, my hand sliding from her arm to her back. Her body is so small, so fragile against mine as I gently pull her toward me. “You don’t have to deal with him anymore. If he ever shows up again, you call me. I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and searching, like she doesn’t quite believe I’m real. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

I don’t have an answer. Hell, I don’t even understand it myself. All I know is that seeing her like this makes me want to destroy anything that ever hurt her. And that scares the shit out of me.

“I was engaged ten years ago,” I say, surprising even myself.

Her eyebrows lift in shock, her lips parting slightly. “You were?”

“Yeah,” I say, my jaw ticking as I think about it. “She cheated on me with my best friend. It left a hole in me. A hole I didn’t think I’d ever fill. But that’s what betrayal does. It doesn’t define you, though. It doesn’t have to.”

Her gaze softens, and she reaches up, her fingers brushing my arm. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. It taught me a lot. And it’s why I’m telling you this now. Don’t let your uncle—or anyone else—have that power over you. He doesn’t get to decide your worth. You are worth far more than he will ever be.”

She exhales shakily, her tears slowing, and for a moment, the room is filled with quiet. Then she looks up at me, her eyes curious. “When did you start wrestling?” she asks softly. “I mean, what made you want to do this?”

I lean back a little, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “You really want to know?”

She nods, and there’s something in her gaze—genuine interest, like she actually wants to understand me. It’s disarming.

“I started when I was eighteen,” I say. “Back then, it wasn’t anything like this, not for me at least. No big arenas, no contracts. I was just a skinny kid showing up to dingy gyms and community centers, hoping someone would let me wrestle. I’d take last-minute matches, sometimes in front of twenty people, and I’d walk away with barely enough money for gas. But somehow, it... it fed my soul. Made me feel alive. I was addicted from the very beginning.”

She tilts her head, her expression softening. “Why? What was it about wrestling that made you keep going?”

I pause, running a hand through my hair as I think. “It’s hard to explain. It wasn’t just the physicality, though I loved that too. It was the connection. The way I could walk into a ring and, for a few minutes, make people forget everything else. Even if it was just twenty people in a rundown gym, they’d cheer, they’d boo... they felt something because of me. It was like, when I was in that ring I had a purpose. It pushed me to keep going, to work harder, to be better.”

Her lips curve into a small smile. “That sounds, amazing.”

“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “There were nights I’d sleep in my car because I couldn’t afford a motel. Times I thought about quitting because it felt like I was chasing a dream that would never happen. But every time I stepped into that ring, it reminded me why I started. It made the struggle worth it.”

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