Best For Business (A WWE Fanfic) Book 2 in The Wild Card Series

Chapter 88 Green Isn't Your Color

FastLane

My match had gone smoothly tonight and now I was watching Dean fight Batista for the US title. The boys were out there but they wanted me to get checked out, my wrist turning an odd color as I landed on it wrong. Of course I had sprained it which meant I was out for a few days, missing both RAW and possibly Smackdown. I was feeling a bit pissed off that I was out again right after a huge Pay-Per-View event. Walking through the halls I was making my way towards our stage entrance when I spotted my favorite lunatic walking my way, holding onto his title, looking tired, sweaty but victorious. I stopped walking, seeing him rake his hands through his hair before looking up and spotting me. Instantly he relaxed, his whole body releasing tension.

"I see you held onto it." I grinned, hand shoved in my jeans pocket.

"Was there any doubt?" he smirked, hoisting it over his shoulder, looking tired and sweaty but happy, "What's the damage?"

I looked down at my wrist, wrapped in a bandage and shrugged, still feeling bummed out. Holding it out I moved it a bit, feeling the pain as the tender spots protested against the movement.

"I'm out for a few days at the least. Which means I miss RAW for sure and possibly Smackdown. It's just a sprain but still." I grumbled, shoving it back into my pocket, "If I didn't have bad luck I'd have no luck at all."

"I think you need a break. They've had us running ragged lately." He commented, throwing an arm over my shoulder as we walked down the hall, letting me lean against him.

"That's the point Dean, us, they're running us ragged not just me. How many title defenses have you had since you've had that." I pointed out, feeling the frustration rise, "I'm sorry, I'm just tired. Now we have to go watch Seth and Roman defend the Tag Team Titles."

Dean was strangely silent was we walked slowly, no one around and we headed towards the entrance, Seth and Roman already out there. They were going up against Cody Rhodes and Golddust for the titles and we weren't worried. Right before we got to the entrance Dean stopped us, making me turn.

"Do we need a break?" he asked quietly, barely audible over the muted shouts of the crowd.

"A break from what?" I frowned, not sure what he was talking about.

"From all this." He waved his hand around, motioning to the arena, "Maybe from each other."

"What do you mean?" I asked, voice coming out slightly strangled.

"Maybe we should all take a few days. Fly home and regroup. Take some time to think about where we're going." He shrugged, running a hand over his hair.

It felt as though my breath was caught in my throat as I stared up at him. Taking a hard look I saw the slight circles under his eyes, and the tired lines of his body. Blinking a few times I gathered my thoughts and carefully thought about what I wanted to say.

"Did I do something wrong?" I blurted out, not at all what I wanted to say but what chose to come out.

"What?" his eyes snapped to mine, seeing the worry, "Lila of course not. You need this though and if I'm being honest so do I. You got shot and you barely took any time to actually recover from it."

"It was just stiches though..." I brushed it off, stopping when I saw him shake his head.

"I know but I haven't stopped thinking about it since it happened. I know your fine and you're healed but I'm not. For a few minutes you might've been dead and it's stuck in my head. I need some time." He said quickly, my mouth snapping shut at his confession.