Page 47 of Between the Ropes

I can’t afford distractions. I can’t afford to lose my edge.

I need to protect myself.

I’ve worked too hard, sacrificed too much to let anyone or anything pull me away from this. I’ve got the biggest match of my career coming up, and I have to be at the top of my game. No mistakes. No weaknesses. No distractions.

I sit down on the bench, my hands gripping my knees, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. The shields go up. The walls that have always protected me, kept me focused, kept me from getting hurt.

I can’t afford to let anyone in right now.

Not even Natalie.

Especially not her.

35

The roar of the crowd still hums in the air, vibrating through the pavement outside the arena, but I barely hear it. My thoughts are stuck on Ryan.

I can’t shake the image of him—blood streaking down his face, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might break his own teeth, shoulders wound like a live wire as he stormed up the ramp. The chair shot replayed in my mind on an endless loop, the sickening crack of metal against bone, the way his body had swayed for just a second before he caught himself.

I’ve scoured backstage, sent him a couple of texts. Nothing. No response.

Annika, on the other hand, is buzzing, practically bouncing beside me as she talks a mile a minute. “Nat, that wasinsane. Like, holy shit, Travis Moreno? That man is a walking thirst trap.And the energy in there? I thought mysoulleft my body at least twice.”

I force a smile, nodding like I’m listening, but my gaze keeps flicking toward the arena doors. Waiting. Hoping.

Ryan and I had talked about tonight before the show. The plan was simple—I’d go out with Annika, let him do his thing. But that wasbefore. Before I saw him take that brutal chair shot. Before I saw the fury rolling off him like a storm about to break.

I should go back inside. Find him.Check on him.

But I don’t want to bethatgirl. The one who pushes when she should step back. The one who smothers.

I inhale sharply, shoving the urge down, and let Annika tug me into an Uber.

The bar ischaos.

Music pounds from the speakers, the bass thrumming in my ribs. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, liquor, and fried food. Laughter and shouted conversations swirl around us, energy vibrating off every surface.

Annika is in her element, sliding seamlessly into a booth, already chatting up some of the UXW crew, feeding off the high of the night. Drinks are ordered, glasses clink, the world keeps spinning.

But my phone stays in my hand, the screen dark. No new messages.

I try to lose myself in the noise, to let the buzz of conversation pull me in, but I keep replaying every second of that match. The chair shot. The blood. The way Ryan disappeared afterward, radio silent.

A familiar presence slides into the seat beside me. Travis Moreno. He tosses back a sip of his drink before leveling me with a look—one that’s too knowing, too perceptive.

"Hey, you good?" His voice is easy, casual, but his eyes don’t miss a thing.

I shrug, trying for nonchalance, but it crumbles in an instant. "I don’t know." I exhale, running my thumb over the condensation on my glass. "That chair shot was bad, Travis. And he just—he didn’t answer my texts. Healwaysanswers my texts."

Travis leans back, slinging an arm over the booth, his mouth pulling into something that isn’t quite a smirk. “Losing gets in his head. Always has. After a night like this, he usually just needs time to cool off.”

I nod, but the knot in my stomach stays tight.

Ryan isn’t the kind of guy who shrugs off failure. He’s relentless, obsessive about being the best. A loss like tonight? It’sfuel. The kind that burns hot and dangerous.

"I hope you’re right," I murmur, fingers tapping against my glass.

Travis studies me for a beat, then sighs, voice dipping lower. “Listen. I’ve known Ryan a long time—long enough to tell you that when he’s pissed, he doesn’t want company. He needs space. Let him breathe.”

---