Chapter 40

Eight months into his own title reign, Jon finally dropped the belt to Kenny Omega, doing insane matches like an Exploding Barbed Wire Deathmatch on pay-per-view to try to reclaim his belt. He lost that match and started drinking a lot more, especially when his friend from the Indies, Eddie Kingston, became his tag team partner. While Delilah was dealing with her neck issues, Jon was drinking himself into a stupor night after night, going out with Eddie and his other friends instead of going to the hotel with his wife. She had been bitching constantly about her neck hurting and he finally told her she had to go back to the doctor. Delilah ignored him, telling him to mind his own business, and Jon didn't mention another word about it, letting her deal with it.

Jon had probably pissed her off more than once because he kept telling Delilah to NOT wrestle until her fractured neck, the stiffness, was resolved and taken care of. That was nothing to screw around with, not only could it be career ending, but also life-threatening if she landed wrong again. Even something like a misplaced clothesline or lariat could mess her up. On top of some grueling, brutal matches of his own, his marital issues, and then hanging out with a guy who drank like Steve Austin used to, Jon was becoming a serious alcoholic.

"She won't see a fucking doctor!" Jon was going to require a lot more cardio or something since beer was packing on some pounds in his gut. He wasn't sure how he liked that, but he definitely knew how much he liked drinking. Delilah wasn't Delilah lately, and he didn't know what to do anymore, so he just stayed the hell away.

"Well, man, what can you do? She's a stubborn asshole, just like you are."

Jon snorted, his eyes darting to his friend.

The thing was, Delilah didn't need to see a doctor. They would just tell her to keep up with the rest when she could, ice packs, warm compresses…painkillers. They had prescribed her opiates, and she only had a certain amount, so Delilah had to deal with the pain a lot of the time. She was the AEW Women's champion, she couldn't just fold because of a little neck issue! Jon wrestled countless times; hell, the man had his nipple nearly cut completely off and he sewed it back on HIMSELF! He had no right to judge her for how she was dealing with her injury and needed to mind his own business. She was noticing he'd go out more and more after shows with Eddie and their sex life had dwindled a lot. She was lucky if they had sex once a week, even when they were home.

"I'm not fucking you when you're drunk, Jon! Jesus Christ, you really think I want whiskey dick?! No, I want YOU, my husband, SOBER!"

"And I want my wife to stop being stubborn and see a fucking doctor for your neck before you end up killing yourself with opiates! But we don't always get what we want, do we?!"

"Fuck you!"

"YOU WISH!"

That was the last time they'd spoken and it'd been two weeks of pure silence between them, each doing their own thing. Delilah had gotten her own hotel room, letting Jon know when he sobered up and wanted his wife back, he knew where to find her. He was getting worse with the drinking and was slowly killing their marriage. While Jon and Eddie were chasing the AEW Tag Team Championships, she was busy defending the women's title on every Dynamite and would do it at the upcoming pay-per-view event against Thunder Rosa, who was an acrobat in the ring and a technician.

"You need to talk to Jon."

"No."

Britt sighed heavily, placing a hand on Delilah's shoulder. "Sweetie, he's just worried about you, and so am I with your neck. I know there's nothing that can be done and they keep saying it'll take time to heal, but if you keep going in the ring like you are, you're going to end up paralyzed or worse."

Normally, Delilah would've snapped if it were Jon telling her these words, but the fact that it was her best friend made her start to listen. "I'm scared, Britt. I'm really scared to go back because…I know something's wrong. I think my neck has gotten worse and I'm the champion, so until I drop the title, I can't find out what's going on." Something told Delilah she'd have to have surgery and she was terrified to tell her husband, who seemed like he didn't care about her lately anyway.

He was too busy losing himself in a bottle of booze on a nightly basis and partying it up with Eddie Kingston. No, he was losing himself in a bottle and partying it up because his wife had withdrawn from him and when he voiced his concern, she bit his head off. Delilah was retreating into herself and her friends, her pain killers, and they were both pulling away from the situation, falling into their respective vices. Sometimes it was just too easy to drown emotions in an addiction.

Sami would have probably died laughing right about now and maybe cried. Because they were tearing each other apart instead of Jon doing all the shredding. His sister was becoming someone else entirely.

"That title worth your health, your career, AND your marriage?" Britt understood where Delilah was coming from, but Delilah was MISERABLE, which to her meant holding that title meant jack.

"What marriage?" Delilah regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, fresh tears stinging her eyes. "I don't have a marriage anymore. Jon doesn't care about me, he's too busy drinking and partying, then when we're home, he spends the entire day out biking or hiking. We don't spend any time together like we used to, and…I'm laid up in bed mostly trying to 'rest' my neck as much as I can before coming to work." Yes, she was miserable…alone, miserable, and scared to go to the doctor again.

"Do you want me to go with you to the doctor?"

"What?" Delilah stared at Britt wide-eyed, wiping her tears away.

"I know it's scary for you, but you have to get your neck looked at and I think you need a second opinion. Your neck is getting worse, not better, and the C1 can be catastrophic to your career, Del," Britt explained, worry and concern in her eyes. This should've been Jon being here for her, but it wasn't and Delilah needed someone, so she was it. "I'll go with you. You don't have to do this alone."

They were out for coffee and sitting in a nearby park having this conversation since Jon was passed out at the hotel in his own room, adjacent to hers. "Okay." She whispered, looking up at the sky and shut her eyes, letting more tears fall down her cheeks. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Now." Britt took her phone out and handed it over to Delilah. "No more waiting. Make the appointment now."

Delilah was scheduled to see Dr. Ramos in Vegas on her next day off…a day Jon would be somewhere else wrestling for a different promotion. Britt planned on flying in to stay with her and go with her to the doctor, having already informed her own husband of what was going on. Kenny was respectful and understanding that his wife would not be home on her days off this time around, letting her know if they needed anything, not to hesitate to call. Delilah could only hope and pray she didn't need surgery, that they could do something for her and her wrestling career wasn't over.

Jon had TRIED getting his wife to see the doctor. He had gone the pleading route, the factual and career route, raging at her, and she had always shut him down. Naturally, he got tired of the fighting and the cold shoulder, so he turned from her the way she had turned from him. They were perpetuating a cycle, each blaming the other and being miserable. Jon's problem was that his new buddy was just making his issues worse without even trying to, simply because they drank, talked together, and went out. Delilah had a good friend in Britt, not that Jon knew that. Hell, he had women throwing themselves at him and, even with his marriage currently going to hell in a handbasket, he had dismissed them all, not even interested.

I miss you. He had a hellacious hangover currently and also had no idea what was going on with her because Delilah refused to talk to him. Him and his whiskey dick. That was fair. Also fair, he didn't want to fuck a junkie. He waited, staring at his cell for what seemed like ages, waiting for some sort of reply. When nothing came back, Jon dropped the phone and buried his face in his hands, not realizing they were shaking.

Alcoholism was a bitch.

I miss you too. Delilah shut her eyes as soon as she hit the send button, staring at her phone for a good hour before sending that message.

What would he say if she told him she was going to the doctor? I told you so? Would he get upset with her for finally doing what he wanted her to do months prior? Delilah didn't want to deal with the backlash, so she decided to keep Jon in the dark about her upcoming appointment. The possibility of her career being over because of this neck injury terrified her and she didn't want Jon worrying about her any more than he already was.

She didn't know how to tell him how scared she was, not wanting to admit her feelings out loud. That was her stubbornness kicking in, her independence taking over. He had so much on his plate, being AEW champion and working for other wrestling promotions, including New Japan Pro-Wrestling. It killed her being away from Jon, even though they worked for the same company, and she cried every time she looked down at her tattooed wedding band. What Delilah didn't know was Jon refused to touch her until she went to the doctor because he would not be responsible for hurting her during sex. He was legitimately afraid to touch his wife and make love to her because of that neck issue.

Jon would NOT be the reason she couldn't wrestle anymore. He knew he had tried having sex with her a few times while blitzed and she had refused him, which was a good thing because sober Jon wanted nothing to do with that. He missed her, physically definitely, and everything else, but he could NOT reestablish a physical connection, aware that one wrong move in bed, no matter how careful he was, could probably paralyze her. Nothing was worth that, nothing was worth doing that to her. Another wonderful side effect of alcohol was exactly what she had said to him, whiskey dick, and he was starting to just…lose the libido, period.

By the time Jon got her message, he was en route to yet another show. Not driving, Eddie was, and he had been sleeping. He fumbled with his phone when he woke up, seeing that message and felt something flaring in his chest. Hope maybe. How are you –nope, he deleted that. Jon didn't want to start a fight by asking how she was feeling because she would think he was referring to her neck. I want to see –he stopped again. Why was sending a message to his wife, the woman he had pursued to the point of shady dealings, so hard? He loved this woman, and he had no idea how to talk to her anymore!

I wanna fix this shit between us, Del. That one he sent.

Then you know what you need to do. Nope, she deleted that one immediately, not wanting to fight with him either, and glanced out the window of their beautiful home.

It felt so empty here without him, and she touched the back of her neck, closing her eyes to say another prayer. She had popped another opiate because the pain that morning was ungodly and her arm had gone numb for over an hour, along with her fingers. That was why it took so long to send him an actual message, because it had scared her. Her doctor's appointment was in the morning and Britt was there, currently on the phone with her husband in one of the guest rooms.

I have a doctor's appoint…No, she didn't want to deter Jon from wrestling and wiped tears away, feeling the pain slowly begin to diminish and the high take over.

I do, too. I still love you, Jon. That one she sent because she meant every word and decided a dip in the hot tub was in order…a hot tub they had installed with all the remodeling the house went through. It was all completed now, thankfully, so if she had to have neck surgery, at least she'd have a safe, secure, comfortable place to recover in.

Britt heard the water running and popped her head in, flashing a thumbs-up when Delilah gave her the 'I'm okay' sign, gathering she was having a bad day with her neck because of how she was gingerly moving one of her arms, overly cautious almost. If Delilah had to have surgery, and it was looking like she would, she would have to tell Jon because she would need someone with her during her recovery. However, it wasn't her place to push the pair either, knowing she could make gentle suggestions, but that was about it. Delilah would talk to and tell Jon when she was ready and not a moment sooner.

Reading that had Jon smiling, the first genuine smile he had flashed in days. I want to see you. He'd make time, and he SHOULD have been making time anyway, but it was hard when all they did was treat each other like garbage lately.

I want to see you too. I miss you so much. Come home after you take care of business. With her bathing suit on, she stood up while in the hot tub and snapped a picture to send to him, letting him see her, even if it was just a picture. Delilah didn't look too worse for wear, but on the inside, she was in constant pain because of her neck. The neck was connected to everything else in the human body. Britt walked out and showed her friend the text messages from Jon, a small smile crossing her face. "He won't be able to come home until the day before we have to go back on the road for Dynamite." There would be scans, various tests, and it would all take time to come back, so she would have to continue to push through the pain until she found out if she needed surgery or not.

"Maybe you should miss Dynamite until you know what's going on, Del," Britt suggested softly with a smile, glad to see that the pair were talking, even it only through text messages. She frowned when Delilah gave her a look. "You've risked a lot, sweetie, I just…feel like until you know for sure, maybe you should take it easy." She knew back in the day, it was 'push through the pain', a lot of the veterans they had all grown up seeing had done it. Times were changing, though, and their bodies were their bread and butter, so they needed to take care of them.

Frowning, Delilah went to argue and then shut her eyes, leaning her head back to where the jets were hitting the back of her neck. "I won't wrestle. I'll tell Tony Khan what's going on, and I won't wrestle again until I know what's going on with my neck. If…if I have to vacate the title, I'll do it. Or I'll wrestle one final match…" Damn it, her voice cracked as soon as those words came out of her mouth and she opened her eyes, tears flooding down her cheeks. What would she do if she couldn't wrestle anymore? Wrestling was all she'd known, the only thing she ever wanted to do in her life, and there was a chance it could all be over. "I want you to take the title from me, Britt. Nobody else deserves it more, and you can go on and have a fantastic feud with Rosa or whoever. I want to drop it to you and since you're a heel, we can…we can make it work. There's no other woman I trust more in that locker room than you. And if it's my last match, I want it to be against you because I know you'll take care of me out there."

That was a solemn, sobering thought, and Britt just nodded. Nobody ever wanted to take a title because someone needed to drop it due to an injury. It was never a good time, and it always had to be done carefully. It had to be meticulously choreographed to ensure everything looked as good as it could without actually aggravating the injury. "If that's what you want, Del, you know I've got your back, but for now, let's see what the doctor says and hope for the best, okay? If they say you have to hang up your boots, we'll go from there."

"Thank you, Britt." Settling back into the hot tub, her friend joined her as she allowed the jets to hit her neck once again, not surprised when no other text messages came through from Jon.