My writer's block is slowly, but surely, starting to go away. Hopefully we'll be back to weekly updates soon enough. For now, enjoy!
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Payback
Allstate Arena – Chicago, Illinois
"Hey!" Sami caught Jet's elbow as she turned a corner in the arena and almost collided with him. "We still on for the Wednesday after next?"
She stared up at him in confusion. She had been hurrying to find Hunter before the show started so she could corner him about a spot in her title match with Charlotte. Her brain had been singularly focused on that so she had absolutely no idea what Sami was talking about. "Next Wednesday?"
"Yeah. Civil War?"
"Oh!" The two of them had made plans months ago to catch the third Captain America movie together. She'd pretty much forgotten that it was already upon them. "Yeah, absolutely! Pumped for it."
"Great. Was thinking that we could have a little marathon this week, go through the rest of them."
"Sounds awesome. Skip The Incredible Hulk?"
"Skip The Incredible Hulk," he agreed solemnly.
"And both agree not to even acknowledge what they did to Natasha in Age of Ultron?"
"Absolutely."
"Awesome. Uh, while I'm here, have you seen Jon?"
Sami's eyebrows lifted a little as he shook his head. "Nope. Is he here?"
"He's supposed to be. His flight was getting in before mine."
"I haven't seen him. His stuff isn't in the locker room."
She hummed to acknowledge that she heard him and shrugged her shoulders. "Probably got delayed. Listen, I've gotta go find Hunter but you can totally book tickets if you want. I am all about some Chris Evans with my Wednesday."
"You're a taken women, you shouldn't be 'all about' any other dude," Sami teased.
"Okay, just so you all know, if Chris Evans came calling, every guy I've ever even looked at would be kicked to the curb faster than the speed of light. I am not ashamed of that."
Sami matched her shrug from a moment ago. "I guess I can't even blame you."
She winked, walking backward from him. "See, you get it. Book those tickets, Zayn, and we can both spend an afternoon swooning over Mister Evans."
"I do not swoon over guys!" he yelled, just as she turned the corner. He could hear her laughter even when he couldn't see her.
She found Hunter eventually, cornering him long enough to get the green light on the plan. He beat around it without saying yes for a while, not wanting to be the one who'd have to take the blame should it end horribly, but, finally, she drew the word from him and almost insisted he hand her a signed permission slip as proof. She was trying to be a model employee, after all, and model employees didn't want to be pulled up by the office for dangerous manoeuvres. She held off on demanding the note, knowing Hunter would go to bat for her should anyone else (cough, Kevin Dunn) decide to take issue with the match.
Once she was done with Hunter, she began to make her way back to the locker room to deliver the news to Charlotte. Thankfully, the other woman trusted her pretty implicitly where ringwork was concerned, so they'd only need a short amount of time in the ring before the show to run through the most important bits. Just as she saw someone rolling a huge crate through the corridor, she felt an arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back and out of the way.
Karl was grinned brightly at her. "Just the lady we were looking for. Which bar tonight, mama?"
"Tonight? I'm not sure if I'm coming out tonight, guys. First televised match back, and I'm going full throttle. Might be too tired."
"Aw, come on! First five rounds are on us," Gallows wheedled.
"First five? You're planning more than five rounds tonight? When we all need to be in St. Louis tomorrow?"
"You weren't saying that in Malaga," Karl laughed.
Jet smirked. Malaga had been… an event. Besides just being thrilled that she was finally on the Spain show and that being clear in the stellar match she put on with Charlotte that night, it had also been the very first time she went out with the Club. Fergal hadn't been kidding about them going for it, but Jet held her own perfectly fine. AJ tapped out within an hour, knowing he was there purely for babysitting purposes. With Uncle Allen out of the way, the three of them went heavy. They quickly learned that Spaniards know how to party, and that the night never ends there. It was past four in the morning when she finally called Sami, clearly waking him up, and slurred through a request for him to come get her. Being the brilliant friend that he was, he found his way through the unfamiliar Malaga streets to take her back to the hotel. He did make it known when she woke up that he didn't appreciate the wake-up call. He tried to keep his stern expression up during the flight back to the States, but when she pleaded horrible hangover and apologised profusely, he caved and fished her out some more painkillers and another blanket from somewhere.
"We didn't have a show the day after Malaga," she reminded them both. "Tell you what, how about after Smackdown? My flight home isn't until late morning on Wednesday."
"Deal," Karl grinned.
He let her go so she could continue on her never ending list of things to do that afternoon. She had a VIP meet and greet to take part in later, and she had to fit in hair and make-up sometime. She could now add 'locate AWOL boyfriend' to the list too. It was a good thing she'd finally re-adjusted to the long work week, or she'd be a frazzled ball of exhaustion by that point in the day.
Charlotte was ready and waiting patiently at the ring when Jet got there. She glanced up from her phone, smiling brightly. "Hey."
"Hi. Sorry I'm late, had to track Hunter down and then I got waylaid by Anderson."
"No problem. How'd it go with the boss? He say okay?"
"Yup, he sure did. After a little pestering. And some whining. And making some actual physical poking. But I got the yes. Are you still sure about it?"
"Of course I'm sure," she scoffed. "Come on, hit me with your best shot, Madden."
They worked through their big spots for the match in short order, preferring to call the rest of it on the fly to give it that more organic feel. It was going to be the first time that the two of them wrestled each other on television and they were sure as hell not going to let it look manufactured. Besides the things they had to try out for the sake of safety — and the sake of Jet's conscience; she didn't want to spring big moves on an unsuspecting woman — everything would just go with the flow. Both of them could work a crowd.
"We gotta get fancy."
"Well, we don't gotta," Charlotte smirked teasingly. "You want to get fancy."
"Excuse me for wanting my big TV return to look good," Jet grinned. "C'mon, we've got fifteen minutes to work with."
"Hey, you don't need to convince me. I'm down with whatever."
"Double moonsault?"
"I am not Ricochet," Charlotte replied, lifting her eyebrows.
"Okay, no double moonsault. Hm… I haven't hit a Sasuke Special in a long time."
Charlotte almost rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to kill me, that's probably the way to go."
"Of course not," Jet smiled innocently. "I'm trying to make it look like I'm trying to kill you."
With a dramatic sigh, Charlotte exited the ring and held her arms open. "Go on then. If you don't kill me on this one, I'm game to do it tonight."
With a triumphant, and only slightly devious grin, Jet moved back to the far side of the ring, giving herself enough space for a good run-up. She cartwheeled and hit the moonsault over the ropes effortlessly. Charlotte caught her weight perfectly. Then, as she landed upright on her feet, she hissed at the sharp shock of pain in her right foot.
Charlotte lifted her head from where she'd landed, eyes knit in concern. "What happened?"
"Nothing, just landed flat footed, that's all." She shook out her ankle and felt the pain mostly subside. "That was cool, though. We'll have to break that out tonight."
"Did you specifically mention that to Hunter?"
"…No. But," she continued quickly, "I asked him if big moves were okay and he said yes, so this is included."
"By that reasoning, a piledriver is included."
"Well, maybe it is," Jet shrugged with a smirk.
Charlotte pointed a very firm finger at her. "Don't even think about it."
It was only three hours before the show when Jon got in. Jet spotted him making his way toward the locker room on her way back from eating with Sami. He seemed to be a little bent over, hobbling like she did when she took a rough hit to the old hip injury. That in itself was suspicious enough but then he tried to scoot through and pretend he hadn't seen her. She moved to stand directly in his path, crossing her arms over her chest.
She saw him wince before lifting his head and smiling brightly, clearly attempting to charm her out of questions. "Hey, babe. You look great."
"And you, Jonathan, look like a man in trouble. Where have you been? Your flight was supposed to get in hours ago."
"Uh, yeah, it did."
Jet lifted an eyebrow. It wasn't like him to be deliberately obtuse. "Right…?" He wouldn't even look her in the eye. Whatever he'd been doing that day, he didn't want to admit. But, really, what shenanigans could he actually get up to in Chicago? Oh… It dawned on her and her eyes widened slowly. "You didn't. Please tell me you didn't."
The uncomfortable and tight smile was enough of an answer. "If it makes any difference, I got punched in the gut for my trouble."
"Jesus, Jon!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice down so the myriad of people in the corridor wouldn't hear. "What the hell did you expect?! I am trying so hard to not let my relationship with him get bitter! If I want him to sign those damn papers before next summer, we have to be on good terms!"
Jon had the sense to look appropriately shamed. "I know, I know. I just thought… I thought maybe he'd agree if we talked, man-to-man."
"Right, because you're top of his list of people to talk to. Of all the people on this Earth, you're the guy who's going to talk sense it him, right?"
"I get it, it wasn't a good idea."
"No, it wasn't. And now I have to fix it." That was exactly what she needed, another headache.
"You don't have to fix anything. I barely got two words out to the guy."
"If he thinks I sent you—"
"I doubt it."
"Then he'll be a whole new level of pissed," Jet continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. She almost rubbed at her face before remembering her make-up. She settled for wringing her wrists instead.
"Right, because that makes a difference with how he's acted this whole time," Jon rolled his eyes.
"He's been trying," she argued. "He's been polite, he's apologised."
"Because he knows you're a sucker for it."
"Sucker or not, the ball is in his court and you've gone and pissed him off."
"He hates me anyway, not like he could hate me any more," Jon shrugged.
"Look, I know this whole blasé, nothing bothers me attitude is your thing, but it's super annoying when it's actually something that matters to me." She began to leave, trying to focus on the meet and greet she was about to do rather than the mess she was going to have to deal with.
"Hey," Jon reached out to catch her elbow, pulling her to a halt. "I know it matters to you. I'm sorry."
"So, act like it." She shook her arm out of his grip and sighed heavily as she walked away.
Jet almost kicked out at the wall before thinking better of it. For all their planning earlier, her match with Charlotte hadn't gone off quite how the two of them hoped. It was incredibly well received by the crowd — especially Jet's first televised Dragonrana in over five years — but, on one spot where she was to land out a Jetstream after Charlotte moved, she felt that surge of pain in her foot again. She had to hold onto the rope to steady herself but it wouldn't shake away this time. They finished out the match just as it was supposed to go (a screwy finish with Charlotte using the ropes to pin her) but everything was just that little bit sloppier thanks to having a foot that she couldn't put much weight on without feeling a sharp shock. It wasn't how she hoped her televised return would go.
She hobbled to the back once they were done and immediately let her frustration show on her face. Hunter barely managed to get a word of congratulations in or ask about her injury before she was furiously semi-limping down to the trainer's office. It took longer than she would have liked and too much poking at her foot before she got a diagnosis of what was likely a stress fracture. It wasn't much of a surprise; she'd had a few before and she had been going pretty hard on her feet over the last few weeks. The doctor tried to convince her to go for an X-ray but she didn't have time for that. Besides, what difference would it make? She instructed him to wrap it tightly all the way up to her ankle with the promise that she'd ice it later.
When she emerged from the office with her mind on one task, she almost ran into Jon hovering outside the door.
"You okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed in worry.
"I'll be fine."
He sighed at her sharp tone. "Look, I really am sorry. C'mon, let me help you back to the locker room. I'll do the drive to St. Louis."
"I've got something to deal with tonight."
It didn't take a genius to figure out what that was. She had to undo his mess. "I'll wait at the hotel."
"Just go to St. Louis."
"No. You can't drive with a fucked up foot."
"Jon—"
"I'll wait at the hotel," he repeated firmly. There was no two ways about it. It wasn't safe for her to be hurting herself to drive three hundred miles, so, no matter how pissed she was at him — and he knew he deserved it — he was going to wait. "Come on, this is me showing you I'm sorry."
She huffed but didn't argue any further. "Fine, do whatever you want. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She didn't bother delivering the injury diagnosis to Hunter or saying goodbye to anyone. She trusted that Jon would get her bags from the locker room before he hitched a ride with whoever back to the hotel. She tapped her fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as she waited at a red light, so close to the place that used to be home. She hadn't set foot in Chicago since that debacle of a divorce hearing and she regretted it. She regretted not seeing her dogs, she regretted not taking up Phil's offer of talking, and she regretted missing out on a city that felt so like her place. It was the feeling she got from Orlando, the feeling of belonging.
She parked outside the house and waited, making sure she was calm and collected. Going in as anything else would only further antagonise the situation. Not to mention, she needed a moment to rest her foot. The throbbing had really kicked in while she was pushing down on the accelerator. She glanced through the windscreen up to the lights in the tall living room window. She'd considered coming here when she realised Payback would be held in the city. She had hoped it wouldn't be under these sort of awkward circumstances.
With a sigh, she stepped out onto the pavement and made her way around to the back and up the stairs. Her foot didn't thank her for it, and she ended up standing on one leg once she'd knocked.
Phil dropped his head in resignation as soon as he pulled open the door. "Well, I thought I'd get a sternly worded text message. Didn't expect you to actually come here."
"Can I come in?"
He stepped aside to make enough space for her. "Sure. Just… could you warn me before you start yelling? I've got a headache, I'd like to prep myself."
"I'm not going to yell."
"No? I thought that was the least I was in for. Kinda expected a slap, to be honest."
Jet closed the door and leaned back against it, still keeping her foot off the ground, and looked him up and down. "I came to apologise."
Phil's eyes almost bulged out of his head as he dropped down on the couch. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? You're here to apologise? For what?"
"For Jon. He shouldn't have come here. I mean, you absolutely cannot lay hands on him, but he should never have even thought about doing what he did. I'm sorry."
"I punch your boyfriend and I get the apology. Seriously, is this the Twilight Zone?"
"It wasn't his place to get involved."
"No, it wasn't."
"It wasn't your place to hit him."
Punk fought down his smirk and nodded dutifully. "No, it wasn't," he repeated. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're not."
"No, I'm not. I did consider setting Bonnie on him, so he got off light with just getting whacked in the stomach."
Jet scoffed. "Bonnie is an old lady who barely moves out of bed, you couldn't set her on anyone." She glanced around the living room, obviously disappointed when she couldn't see either of the dogs. "Where are they?"
"Napping upstairs. They took over my bed. I can call them down, if you want?"
She shook her head. It wasn't fair to wake them, especially since they'd be excited to see her and she couldn't stay long. She missed them desperately but it would be selfish to get them wound up and then leave.
"Probably a good thing," Phil shrugged. "You'd definitely notice the cheese smell on Pudge's breath."
"You've gotta stop feeding him up on cheese. He's gonna get fat."
"Probably," he smiled. He gave her an up and down of his own, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Have you gotten shorter?"
Jet scoffed.
"No, I'm serious. You look shorter."
She adjusted her stance, standing straight up to her full height and regretting it as soon as pain flared through her foot again. "See?"
"Just come sit down, would ya? It's weird you just standing over there like that."
She did want to sit. She was tired but didn't see a nap in her immediate future. She pushed her hands off the door to make a move to the couch, but couldn't hide the slight wince when movement made the pain worse.
"What?"
"Nothing," she shook her head.
"Liar. What's wrong with your foot?"
She took a seat beside him and toed off her shoes. She lifted her right foot up to rest her heel on the couch and displayed her tightly wrapped foot. "Doc thinks it's a stress fracture," she admitted.
"Who wrapped this? They couldn't spring for a brace for you?"
"No point in the brace, I'll just keep it wrapped and hope for the best."
Phil was already unwrapping her foot when he spoke. "Hope for the best? You're not still working on this?"
"Of course I am. I came back a month ago, I'm not being shelved again. It's just a little break, it'll heal."
He lifted her leg from his lap and got up from the couch. Jet briefly wondered if he was honestly that frustrated by her doing what they all did, working with a fairly minor injury, until he made his way to the freezer and came back with a bag of peas wrapped in a dish towel.
"Twenty minutes per hour, you know that."
"I'm a little busy."
"Twenty minutes per hour," he repeated. "You need your feet, Juliette. Take care of yourself."
"Come on, it's one itty bitty bone. Hunter will give me shorter matches for a couple of weeks and I'll heal up on my days off."
"Six weeks."
"Excuse me?"
"Six weeks until that foot feels okay again. Minimum. Longer for you because you're too pig-headed to let it heal."
She laughed. "Ouch. I mean, not wrong, but still, ouch."
He tutted at her refusal to be serious about it. He appreciated that she was living life without getting so wound up but sometimes she needed to recognise the importance of taking care of her health. He didn't want her ending up like him — battered, bruised, and in constant pain. It had taken him so long to feel okay once he was out of the ring.
"Really, you can lecture me about my stupid foot all you want, but can you at least do it without smashing the peas down? It kinda hurts."
Phil glanced down, not realising he'd been pushing the makeshift icebag into her foot in his frustration. He removed his hand immediately. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. Like I said, just an itty bitty bone."
"Bones are supposed to be in one piece."
"Sure."
"Bones that aren't in one piece are supposed to be rested," he added sternly.
"I've had enough rest. Besides, mama gotta make that money."
"Mama?" Phil repeated with a half-smirk and a curved eyebrow.
"Karl Anderson is rubbing off on me."
Phil's eyebrow rose higher and he couldn't fight off the smirk any longer. "Oh, is he?"
Jet groaned, annoyed at herself for not catching the innuendo. She didn't want to be discussing anything remotely in that ballpark with him. "Stop."
"Oh, c'mon, I'm just joking. Let's not pretend I don't know what you're getting up to."
"I'm not—" She clamped her mouth shut. Not discussing this. Her sex life (or lack thereof) was the last thing that should be on their list of topics.
"No? Makes two of us."
It hadn't crossed Jet's mind that he might have been seeing someone. She had assumed that if it was happening she'd have heard about it, either from the internet or AJ. She hadn't expected to feel so relieved from his admission of celibacy.
"This isn't something we should be talking about."
"No? What should we be talking about?"
"Nothing. I just came to apologise."
"Well, you have to rest up for a bit. Might as well talk about something." He lifted the bag to check on the swelling and tutted, placing it back down. "I thought you looked strange when you landed on that corkscrew. That's when you noticed the foot, huh?"
Jet lifted her eyebrows. He had spent those months she was recovering sending her texts expressing his surprise at each PPV that she hadn't yet returned, but she had always assumed his knowledge was coming from the internet. She hadn't really believed that he was actually watching the product.
Phil knew what her surprised face was about. "I watch your stuff. Easy enough to tell on the card when it'll be on."
"Oh. That's nice."
"But… the Dragonrana? Really?"
"Don't fuss, it'll be strictly a big match move."
"It's dangerous."
"Dangerous brings in the viewers."
"You don't have to hurt yourself for money. I don't know how they're paying you these days, but I'd never let you be without. You can have half, I don't care."
"I don't want half."
They'd been through this a million times. Her lawyer had informed her that all the money in their joint account counted a marital property, no matter that Phil acquired most of it prior to their marriage. Mr Kulerski had pushed her to ask for half the funds in her divorce petition and she refused outright. She had enough of her own money and she'd never feel right with herself for taking any of his. He'd earned that with his own blood, sweat and tears.
"What am I gonna do with it? Half's the least you deserve for putting up with me."
"God, don't do that," she groaned loudly. "I never put up with you."
"Come on, I was at least part of the problem in our marriage."
Jet sighed, staring down at her lap. It was so odd to be there, conversing with him like old friends and then remembering suddenly the true weight that hung over them. She looked back up at him, taking in all his features. He looked well, despite the ridiculously overgrown beard, but there was weariness in his eyes. Everything had to be eating away at him too, just as badly as it was her. Even so, it was infinitely better to be on this kind of footing with him, awkward perhaps but much kinder. Neither of them taking potshots, even if they could. This was what she'd wanted all along, just a good relationship with him.
"We were both problems," she countered. "We're both raging basket cases."
Phil chuckled, rubbing his hand lightly back and forth across her ankle. "Yeah, that's the truth. I'm working on it."
"Me too."
An awkward silence followed, during which Jet turned to watch a little of whatever channel he had left the TV on, and then back to him. He was watching her the entire time, his top lip pulled in between his teeth. She wondered how he didn't get all that facial hair in his mouth but kept herself from asking. She did have a slight chuckle at it, though. It was spectacularly ridiculous looking.
"What?"
"Nothing," she smiled. "Uh, while I'm here, thank you for the birthday gifts. They were lovely."
"You're welcome. I actually considered not sending the CD when I noticed the crest on it. Thought you might burn it out of instinct or something."
"You know Man City's crest?"
Phil chuckled. "Just because I pretended not to listen when you talked about soccer doesn't mean I actually wasn't. I even know a few names here and there. David de Gea, right?"
Jet laughed at how much he butchered the pronunciation. "Something like that. I'm sorry to break it to you, but I really wasn't listening when you talked about baseball. Still don't know the rules."
"Tell you what, how about when the Cubs make it to the Series, you find a day off and I'll teach you all about it at Wrigley Field."
"When the Cubs make the Series," she snorted. "Sure."
"Hey, it'll happen! This is the year!"
"I thought last year was the year?" He had been quite adamant that Back to the Future had it right.
"I was a little off. I'm telling ya, this is the year."
"Alright, sure. If the Cubs somehow actually make it, I'll find time for a game."
"Good." He lifted the pack of peas again, frowning at the bruising coming through in the swelling. "Let me switch this out." He made his way back into the kitchen, tossing the peas back into the freezer and grabbing a bag of frozen broccoli.
She watched him walk, knowing that she should have left already. She was here to apologise for what Jon had done and, now that it was clear he didn't blame her and wouldn't be holding it as a grudge, she should have walked out and driven right back to the hotel. She did have to make it to St. Louis, after all. Instead, she stayed in her spot on the couch, letting him place the much bumpier bag of vegetables across her instep. It had set her so at ease to be talking so easily and she didn't want to waste the opportunity. She didn't know when she'd get another chance to be in Chicago, or when one of them would get pissed off again and lead to three months of radio silence.
"How's it feeling?"
"Cold."
"Funny."
Jet smirked. "It's fine. I told you it'd be fine."
"Yeah, and we both know you're lying. It's gonna ache like a bitch for weeks. It'll end up deformed if you don't take care of it. You wanna be thirty and unable to walk?"
She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out to mock his rabbiting. "Shouldn't I be the one worried about you? I heard you've got a fight."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Young kid, Mickey Gall. We're looking at 203 in September."
"Good for you. Feeling ready for it?"
"Yeah."
"That's it? Yeah?"
"Didn't think you'd want to hear the details," he shrugged, rubbing his hand over where his chin must have been beneath the beard. "You were never happy that I decided to do this."
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" she chuckled. "Is he good?"
"He's only had a couple of pro fights but, yeah, he was impressive."
"Is he going to beat you?"
Phil smirked. "You ever think I'm gonna say yes to that?"
She admired his self-belief, if nothing else. "How's the back?"
"Great. Didn't realise how bad it felt until it felt good again."
"I'm sorry. Still. About not being here when you had surgery, I mean. I felt terrible that you were on your own."
"It was my own fault. The surgery and you staying away. I should have paid more attention to my body and I shouldn't have been such an asshole to you at the hearing."
"You apologised for that," she shrugged off. She didn't want to re-hash what had happened in February. It was the past and wouldn't serve any purpose.
"No, I apologised over text and that really doesn't count." He straightened his spine a little and looked her dead in the eye. "I'm sorry," he spoke clearly and firmly. "I was a giant dick and massively out of line. I know it really doesn't excuse anything but I was in a pretty shitty place. You were doing so great and my fight had just been put back again because of my back, and I… I dunno, I guess I just felt like I was drifting. And I took it out on you. And Devitt. I'm sorry."
"I know and you're forgiven. Though, Fergal might not be so willing. He was pretty angry that you besmirched his character."
"Tell him I'm sorry, too. Really."
"I will. He'll understand. We all have those days that just get on top of us, right? Today was one of mine. I freaked out on Jon, even when he was just trying to be helpful."
"You shouldn't be too hard on him. Don't get me wrong, if he ever shows up here again I'll knock his teeth down his throat," Phil warned, "but he's trying his best where you're concerned, I'm sure."
"He is."
"I mean, you're a firecracker. It's hard to figure you out sometimes and know what the right thing to do is."
"Am I that difficult?" Jet knew she had her moments when she could be impossible but she hadn't realised that it was a continuing effort to find the right spot with her.
"I didn't say difficult."
"Was kind of implied."
"Difficulty implies hardship. That's not what it is at all. It's… an adventure."
"Smooth save," she smirked.
"Besides, it doesn't matter if I mean difficult. It doesn't matter who messes up. All that matters is if he makes you happy." Phil looked up into her eyes. "Does he?"
She nodded softly. "He does." He made every day she spent with him happy, just with his easy smile and cheesy jokes.
Phil's smile was tight no matter how much he tried to make it look sincere, and the corners of his eyes were pinched. "Good. That's what you deserve."
"So do you. I want you to be happy."
"I am." It didn't sound true to either of them. "If you're happy, I'm happy. That's all I want."
She reached out for him in an effort to be comforting but, just before she could squeeze his hand, he stood up and forced a bright smile. "You should probably head out, right? Everyone will be wondering where you are. Besides, you can probably get away with driving on that foot now, while it's close to numb."
He needed to get her out of there, needed her gone before he gave in to that familiar feeling in his chest. He didn't want to risk losing his temper as a cover again. It had been so nice to have her there and be able to just talk like regular human beings, he didn't want to ruin it again. Thankfully, she understood. She dropped her hand and offered him another smile. It wasn't wide and beaming but it was friendly. That was all either of them could really ask for.
"Yeah, you're right," she agreed. He removed the wrapped bag of broccoli and helped her to her feet. She tested out her foot for a moment and found that it was a little easier to walk on. "I better head off. This has been nice, though."
"Yeah, it has."
"I'll keep an eye on the baseball. Don't get your hopes up, though, buddy."
"This is the year, Juliette."
"Uh-huh," she nodded, leaning against the doorframe. "We're in Rockford at the end of the month for Smackdown. Maybe we could hang out again? Hopefully when the lumps upstairs are awake."
Phil nodded. Hopefully a few weeks would be enough time to recover from this little impromptu hang-out. He didn't want her out of his life and he'd take what he could get, even if it hurt afterward. "That sounds great."
"Good. Well, I really had better be off now." She reached up to hug him. They both practically melted into it. She was the first to break away, shooting him another smile. "Catch ya later, Phil."
"You sure will," he agreed. "Be happy." He didn't close the door until she'd descended the steps and completely disappeared from view. Even then, he moved over to the large window overlooking the street and made sure she got safely in the car. Before the rental's door closed, she waved up at him.
The drive back to the hotel gave her just enough time to figure out what to say to Jon. After all, Phil was right. She shouldn't have taken her frustrations out on Jon, no matter what he'd done. He had found himself in a very strange situation and was doing his best to navigate it. He'd undoubtedly learned his lesson and she should just put it behind them.
Her foot was throbbing a little again by the time she was making her way through the lobby and she was so ready for her day to be over. She knew his room number and made her way there first, bypassing her own room entirely. She knocked and waited, lifting her leg again. He didn't take long to answer, looking almost as tired as she felt. She walked straight at him. He opened his arms reflexively and wrapped her up, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his chest.
"I think I should be the one saying that. I shouldn't have gone there."
"No, you shouldn't," she agreed, "But I understand why you did. You were trying to help. I'm sorry I freaked out so bad."
"I deserved it. Did you, uh, smooth things over with him?"
Jet nodded. "Everything's fine."
"You were there a long time."
"Had to ice my foot. The fucker started to swell. Besides, we had a good talk. Things feel good with him for once, I think we're finally on friendly terms."
"Good, I'm happy for you."
"Are you?"
He looked down at her, frowning. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because he's my ex? I just don't want this to be something that you feel weird about but keep to yourself."
"I won't," Jon promised. "If I feel like it's getting weird, I'll tell you."
"Good." She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat and leaned all her body weight against him. "Can we just stay here tonight? Drive to St. Louis in the morning?"
He led her backward, letting her fall lightly on the bed, and smiled. "Sure."
Progress! With both of them! Yay!
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