Leaving Texas with an empty seat next to him on the plane left Jon with a heavy heart that evening. He hadn't spoken to her in a week, not to any of the band for that matter. Whitney hadn't left his mind though, her tear stained face haunting him every night in his dreams. Leaving her behind in that arena was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, somehow convincing himself over and over that this was for the best. They needed time to cool down, time to heal. Now, looking into the inky, darkening evening skies, he just hoped he was convincing himself with the truth.
New York used to be one of Jon's favorite places. Just like Vegas, he could lose himself within the hordes of tourists. He didn't have to be Dean Ambrose, super hero, or even Dean Ambrose, WWE super star. He was just another guy in the crowds, trying to catch a taxi in the driving rain. His curls falling faster than his mood that mext afternoon, Jon finally caught one heading his way, sighing gratefully as he hopped in the back, disregarding the smell of stale fried chicken wafting to his nostrils.
"Where to?" the cabbie asked him, not even bothering to turn around and look him square in the face, dark brown eyes looking back at him from the rear view mirror. Jon was ready to tell him, when she caught his eye. Sighing again, this time in contempt, he scrunched his face. Looking like a sad, wet puppy left in the cold, was Renee. Opening his door again, Jon hesitated just a second before speaking.
"Get in." She stared at him quizzically, Jon raising his eyebrows in annoyance, raindrops pelting his face through the open door, before she stepped in, smiling cautiously.
"You might not be my favorite person, but my friend's parents raised me better than that."
"I thought Whitney would be with you." her voice was soft, apologetic in a way. Jon grinned ruefully, laughing in spite of himself.
"Yeah. she uh, she's not coming. We got into it at the pay per view."
"About Jack? I heard Cole and JBL talking about his suspension before the YouTube show. Jon, I'm sorry." Finally looking at her, watching her turn away and put her hair up in a messy, damp ponytail, he was shocked.
"What?"
"Don't seem so surprised. I know. You think I'm some smug Barbie, but I'm not. Done a lot of thinking these past few weeks. You were right. We were never a couple. Friends with benefits never last, someone always ends up falling, and this time it was me. I was so angry at Whitney, she had what I wanted. Not only you, though you were a big part of it. She was accepted by the roster immediately. The Divas, NXT, all of them. I've worked so hard to get where I am in this company, and the only true friend I have really, is Summer Rae."
"'nee," Jon began, but she cut him off.
"No Jon, I mean it. I really never meant for her to get hurt at Battleground. I wanted her to hurt emotionally, to feel what I was feeling. But even I wouldn't have wanted her to be injured like that. And now all of this with Swagger. She's a tough, sweet girl, I shouldn't have been such a bitch to her."
"Thanks. I guess. And yeah. It was about Jack. A little. I just, its love, Renee. I want her to be tough, stand up for herself, but I feel like I'm a bad boyfriend, like I'm failing her. I should have known Jack was going to that damn game. I should have been there to protect her."
"Jon, you are a good boyfriend. Whitney is the luckiest girl in the world to have you. And you're pretty damn lucky to have a woman like her fall for you. Jack will get dealt with, one way or another. You haven't failed anyone, not yet. Not if you get your girl back." Jon was speechless, for the first time in over a year, he was having a decent conversation with Renee that didn't involve how much she wanted him, or her hatred for his girlfriend. Laying her hand atop his in the empty middle seat, she smiled softly at him.
"It'll get better. Don't ask me how I know, I just do."
XxX
Sitting on the edge of the bed that evening, Deacon looked into the sad face of the woman he called his baby sister. He was a little more than a year older than her, the one that she ran to when Ben yelled at her, or Jake pulled on her pigtails. This time, these were tears he couldn't seem to stop. He'd been the one looking for her that night, Jake too busy with Paige, Ben leaving with Kim, everyone figuring Whitney would have just left with Jon. Something ate at him that evening, about to leave himself, but it gnawed at him. She would have texted someone, let them know where she was. He found the room Jon had been sharing with Colby, finding a scene that shattered his heart. Knees curled tight to her chest, invisible to the roster and crew walking just outside the door, sleeves soaked in tears.
"He's gone, Deek. We fought, and he's gone." He huddled her into his jacket, helping to hide her blotchy, tear stained face from onlookers, taking her home with him. The last week had been rough, to say the least. Whitney was the nurturing one in their little family, now the one in need of a little nurturing.
"What's up?" no matter how upbeat she tried to sound, the sadness on her face gave it away. Framed pictures of them together still sat on her nightstand, painful reminders of the man that walked out on her, no clear intentions of ever coming back.
"RAW's about to come on. Figured I'd bring dinner and we could watch it." She smiled, nodding sadly, patting the other side- his side- of the bed for him to sit. Settling the pizza he brought between them, Deacon flipped on the TV, right in time to hear Cole welcome the viewers to the venue. Quietly looking over, Whitney seemed more concerned with her phone than Vince McMahon on the television.
"Hey. Look. Steph likes giraffe print too." He tried making small talk, tried showing her that someone still remembered the little things about her, but Whitney just nodded, eyes still looking at the screen.
"What are you doing?"
"Googling myself. Never know what you might find." Cringing when she heard his music start up, she tried to keep the tears at bay, something that hadn't quite been working out for her the past eight days. Deacon reached over, petting her hair, running his thumb under her eye where one tear escaped.
"Don't cry, sis. I'm not good with tears like you. I don't know how to do comforting."
"You're doing a pretty damn good job of it right now." she grinned, wiping her eyes with the collar of her shirt.
"Come here, before you flood the place." Moving the pizza towards the end of the bed, Deacon held his arms out, wrapping Whitney up tight. Thoughts ran rampant through Whitney's brain. His cologne was different than Jon's. His chin against her cheek was clean shaven, not the usual five o clock shadow tickling her skin. It felt different, memories hurting almost worse than actions. Burrowing closer, she looked back at her screen, a new article popping up.
"Look, it's new."
"Maybe it's about the contract?" Deacon asked, regretting it as soon as she clicked the link, the title bold and red, like a printed slap to the face.
"DEAN AMBROSE HITS SOUR NOTE WITH SINGER, WANTS TO TALK ONE ON ONE WITH WWE REPORTER"
She didn't want to read further, but her eyes wouldn't pull themselves away. Someone had snapped pictures of she and Deacon leaving the American Airlines Center that evening, her face barely hidden by the collar of his big jacket. They'd also gotten pictures of Jon arriving solo at the airport the next morning, looking distant in pictures with fans.
It was the next set of pictures that hurt the worst. Raindrops on the window of the taxi made it only slightly hard to see Jon and Renee together in the backseat, smiling together. After everything he'd told her about Renee, after everything she'd done to her, that's who he went to.
Deacon had read about enough, feeling Whitney's heart thumping against his arm, not knowing how to feel. Taking her phone, he turned it off, sliding it beneath the pillow he was leaning against.
"Enough of that. It's alright. You always got your brothers."
XxX
"Hey it's Whitney, probably a little busy right now. Leave your message after the beep!" Hanging up the phone, Jon didn't even bother leaving a message that evening. Hearing her voice hurt too much. He wondered what she was doing right then, a little after 10 pm there in Dallas. He hoped she wasn't alone. Lying back on his bed that night, he stared at his phone, her smiling face staring back at him. He remembered the night fondly. The night before her birthday, the week their whirlwind romance began. She'd gotten a strike, the first one of the night. She looked so beautiful, so focused on him, he had to take her picture.
"It'll be alright." he whispered to the shadows on the wall. "It has to be."
