Physical Therapy

Friday night I was getting ready for my early flight to Maine when I got the call from Dr. Brian, since I was a “senior” on the rotating staff, they were cutting someone from the call, I could take, it or pass and be on mandatory live event status for a while. I chose to take it off, and booked a flight to Boston instead.

I hadn’t told Jon about this until I landed in Boston, he had done a wonderful job of respecting my space, even if that meant still calling and texting me constantly. But I found it all incredibly endearing. He loved me, there was no doubting that and I loved him. I just had to make sure that the depths of my love met his; I wouldn’t let myself fall harder then him and be the one left holding the broken pieces. I had been broken before, he fixed me, but I was not about to let him break me again.

Phil and I had a heart to heart the night before, he helped me solidify that without Jon, I wouldn’t have been able to move on from my trauma, that I wouldn’t be able to wear a shirt that shows part of my back without having a panic attack, and that if someone places a hand on my back I no longer run to a corner and cry. He told me that this is what most people wait a lifetime for, this person that completes them and accepts them 100%, and I was lucky for only having to wait the few years of being an adult that I had. It was then that I admitted the one thing that I had felt since the second night I spent with the Shield; sitting next to Phil on his couch, I turned to face him.

“Phil, he’s my forever.” And I had smiled lightly and hugged him back when he embraced me. I needed to show this to Jon though, he was still on eggshells around me and I would catch him looking at me, making sure that I wasn’t about to run off from him, never to be seen again. I wanted him to know that I was in this for the long haul. Luckily, this fit in nicely for my plan for the weekend.

Honestly though, I really had an alternative reason for coming to Boston as early as I did, I was going to get a tattoo.

My artist normally was in Stockholm, but by some stroke of luck he was in Boston for the weekend coincidentally doing a tattoo convention, I was able to get in touch and let him know what I wanted. I wanted this to be a surprise for Jon, so when he asked what I had planned all day, I lied. It was the first lie I had ever told him, but it was for good reason.

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She had seemed off on the phone earlier today, she hadn’t told me she was going to Boston until she was already there and her rushed story of going to see the museums just seemed off. I had no reason to not trust her, but something just seemed off. I stalked around the Cumberland County Civic Center looking for Carrano.

I find him in some makeshift office, on the phone talking to someone else. I drum my hands on the desk, letting a little bit more of Moxley come out then I should, but I don’t care. I couldn’t sit around all day wondering what my girl was up to in Boston, it was a big city, and I didn’t like knowing she was alone. Or even worse, that she wasn’t and I had no idea who she was with.

I slammed my fist on the desk and gave him an impatient head nod, and he finally put the phone down.

“Jon, what can I help you with?” He leaned back, I never liked Carrano, he was too young for how much power he held and always acted like a cocky son of a bitch.

“I need off the event tonight.” I didn’t look at him and did my twitches, rumor was that he thought I really had some mental illness so if I could use that against him, to exploit him, I would

“You mean the event that starts in two hours? Be real, Jon. Tomorrow is Money in the Bank, you need the match tonight and you’re in it. No getting out of it.”

“What if I just leave?” I say it casually and toss my shoulders, fully immersing myself in the Dean Ambrose character.

“It’s a breach of contract, you could be suspended, or fired.” He was nervous, his fumbling hands and cracking voice gave it away.

“I would still be in the match, I have an emergency I need to get to.” I don’t even look at him, intimidation is key right now and I have the upper hand. “Don’t we, uh, get personal days or some shit? Because I need one, right now.” I turn and look at him, glaring.

“Jon, I would have to call Paul, I mean-“

“It’s a HOUSE SHOW, Carrano. Not a fucking taped show or a pay per view, a HOUSE SHOW. So you get on your fucking phone, call Paul because God knows he’s not in bumblefuck Maine at this house show, and tell him Jon Good needs a personal day. Right fucking now.” I make fists with my hands and hold them to my sides.

Sure enough, WWE talent receives personal days. I agreed with Paul's terms that he set forth after granting the leave, I would wrestle a dark match at 7pm and leave then, I had been booked and with Stu being pulled due to injury, they needed me but I wouldn’t be held to the standard to stay for the entire show, and by 7:35pm, I was driving the two hours down to Boston to see just what my girl was up to.

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With all of the intricacies of my tattoos I have probably sat for nearly a full day and the hum of the needle against my skin had become therapeutic itself. Jacob was the only one I allowed to ink me and it felt good to be getting it done again, especially something so special.

“So, this is different for you.” Jacob had a soft voice, his Swedish accent was prominent and he always sounded muffled due to his ZZ top influenced beard.

“It is.” I say with a smile, I lay on my stomach on the table, staring straight ahead as he works on my back left shoulder blade.

“But I like it, the colors go well with the rest.” I nod my head solemnly, tattoos hurt, especially in this spot, but the pain is welcome.

“You meet a man?” He knows the story, over the years, over the tattoos, he was one of the few that knew everything, he knew my tattoos were about healing, about moving on, but this one was so different.

“I have.” I wanted to tell him all about Jon, but chances are he had no idea who Dean Ambrose was, and didn’t care about the WWE.

“Good.” It was all he said, simple. It made me smile, he knew I had healed and he knew that this tattoo was probably my last.

He had finished my tattoo around 8:00pm, just as the convention was winding down for the day and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything. I knew Jon would be calling me after the house show and I knew that he would ask that question, so I stopped at some hipster place next to the hotel and spent the next two hours watching the Cubs game at the bar, chatting with the bartender. I kept checking my phone and realized it was nearly 10pm, and I hadn’t heard from Jon so I decided to head back to the hotel. I hadn’t planned on telling him about the tattoo over the phone, but I missed him, I missed his voice, and it made me disappointed that I wouldn’t get to see him, or hear it, until tomorrow morning.

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I don’t know what I expected when I heard the click of the hotel key unlocking the door, but I was upset. I had gotten to the hotel, charmed the clerk into a key and waited. It was clear she hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in here before she left, and hadn’t been back since. I didn’t text her, but I sat there, stewing, and the door opening unleashed all of those feelings.

I met her at the door and the fear flashed through her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She looked confused, upset, and worried all at once.

“Looking for you.” I said it matter of fact, like it was completely ordinary.

“But you were staying in Maine for the night, you had an event that lasted until 9pm? What are you doing here, Jon?” Her voice was in full panic.

“I took a personal day.” Shrugging the topic and my shoulders, “Where were you?” I tried not to sound upset but it was hard, I was. I had spent all day in radio silence, came here to surprise her and she was just gone.

She bit her entire bottom lip. “I was out.”

“No shit.” I spat out, harsher then I expected, and she recoiled. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where you were, it worried me.” I approach her and hold my hands out, hoping she will hold them, and she does.

“I was doing a surprise for you.” She looks up and meets my eyes, a hint of mischief in them.

“You were what?” All the worry washes over me and humor fills my voice, “In Boston? You were working on a surprise for me.”

She smirks and bobs her eyebrows up and down, teasing me. “Yup.”

“Can I see it?” I pull her over to me and sit on the bed, she stand between my open legs, looking down at me. I don’t let go of her hands and she starts to swing them back and forth playfully.

“Yes. But you need to close your eyes first, promise?”

“Are we having sex?” I laugh as I say it, because I am fine with that, but that can’t be the surprise.

“No,” my face must drop, “well, probably, but no, that is not the surprise.” She smiles wide, “Now are you going to close your eyes or what?”

I close my eyes and she pulls my shirt over my head to make sure I can’t cheat. I hear her rustling and her hoodie unzipping but then nothing.

“Okay, pull the shirt down.” I do as she says and look up, but see her kneeling in front of me, her hair pulled to the side, her top completely bare. And then I see it. On her previously bare shoulder is a new tattoo.

I gently trace my fingers over it and the realization hits me. “Is that Cincinnati?”

“Yes it is.” She says softly, she shivers to my touch, the room is cold and so are my hands.
I stare it in awe, I get off the bed and kneel beside her, the artwork, the colors, it is so beautiful.

“The quote?” I want to know what it is, where it is from, what it means to her.

“The quote is from How I Met Your Mother actually,” she giggles slightly, “but to me it means, that maybe I was meant to fall apart, meant to have my struggles, because they made way for better things, for you.” She turns her head and makes eye contact with me, smiling a little bit.

“I picked Cincinnati because without Cincinnati I wouldn’t have found me, I wouldn’t have broken, and I wouldn’t have found you. Cincinnati gave me the first place that felt like home, it was the place where I was destroyed, and it gave life to the person who put me back together.” I stare at her in awe, it was a beautiful sentiment and it didn’t escape me that she got this tattoo because of me. She had marked herself with part of me, she would always carry me with her on her shoulder, I gently kissed her temple and leaned back slightly. She leaned closer to me and gently rested her head against my chest.

“I’m yours, Jon. Forever.” Those were the only words I needed to hear. I picked her up and laid her down in the bed, kissing every part of her, making her moan, and bringing us both to orgasms multiple times until she fell asleep in my arms.

I brushed her hair out of her face and watched her sleep for a few minutes.

“Will you marry me, Maeve?” I knew she couldn’t hear me, but I needed to practice it. Because if I found the ring tomorrow, I don’t know how long I could wait before putting it on her finger.