Falling In Love

XV. Little Warrior, Big Heart

Chapter Fifteen... Little Warrior, Big Heart

I watched Amias' small face twist into a scowl as his little eyes darted around the room, a storm brewing within them. His arms were folded tightly over his chest, his lips pursed as if he were daring anyone to come close.

The two-year-old's fierce glare was so intense that it might have stopped a grown man in his tracks. I should have seen it coming, but I'd been too caught up in the chaos that had unfolded during my segment on Raw to think about the consequences.

The attack had been scripted, part of the storyline to get me back in the ring, and the audience loved it, judging by the roaring cheers and gasps that followed.

But Amias had been watching from the side, and I hadn't even considered that he would take it seriously. I should have known better. My son was stubborn and protective, traits that ran deep in our blood, and he had no tolerance for any hint of injustice.

Charm was busy working as the ring announcer, so I had been the one to watch Amias. He had been restless, shifting from one foot to the other, tugging at the hem of his shirt whenever he grew impatient.

But he'd stayed quiet through the first half of the show, playing with the toys Charm had packed for him and watching the lights with wide-eyed wonder. That was until the moment I filmed my segment for the night, clutching the back of my head, selling the attack to the best of my ability.

The sight of me in pain must have struck a chord with Amias. The moment his eyes found me, his face transformed from innocence to fury. I could see it in his tiny frame as he stood up straight, fists clenched and body trembling with suppressed energy. He didn't understand that what he'd seen wasn't real. He didn't care. To him, someone had hurt his father, and he was ready to defend me with everything he had.

As I looked down at him, his eyes locked onto mine, a flash of determination in them that made me chuckle despite the pain in my head. The adrenaline from the staged attack was still coursing through me, making it hard to focus on anything other than the ache radiating from my skull, but I couldn't help but smile at my son's loyalty.

"Amias," I said softly, reaching down to pick him up.

He resisted at first, squirming and letting out a growl that sounded suspiciously like one of my own. But when I cupped his small face in my hands and whispered, "I'm fine, buddy. It was just acting," the tension in his little body started to ease. His furrowed brows relaxed slightly, but he didn't stop glaring. No, that would take more than a few reassuring words.

The rest of the night was a blur of tension and hilarity. I could feel the weight of Amias' protective presence everywhere I went.

If someone walked past too quickly, he'd tense up, his little fists swinging instinctively, ready to fight off an imaginary threat. I was torn between being proud of his loyalty and being embarrassed by the scene we were causing.

The backstage crew, usually so used to the drama of our world, paused and stared, some smirking at the sight of a tiny child playing bodyguard, others exchanging glances that said, Is he really that serious?

Charm finally found us after the show had ended, her eyes bright from the rush of the evening. She was always a whirlwind, bustling from one task to the next, and she was so in her element when she was working the microphone. But tonight, I could see the slight tension in her shoulders as she approached us.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked, glancing down at Amias, who was still clinging to me like I was the only thing holding him together.

I couldn't help but smile as I looked at her, shrugging my shoulders in a mix of amusement and resignation. "He saw the segment of me being attacked from behind, and I guess he's protecting me," I explained.

Charm's eyes softened as she watched Amias' face. "Did you tell him that you're not hurt for real?"

I snorted, shaking my head. "Does it look like he cares? He's been glaring and swinging at anybody who comes near me all night."

She raised an eyebrow and let out a small sigh. "Maybe it's time we leave him at home then, since he clearly doesn't understand what you do for a living, and I don't want him behaving badly backstage like this."

The idea hit me like a shock. I felt a rush of protectiveness flare up at her words, and I took a deep breath before answering. "Absolutely not. He's staying on the road with us until he's five years old, Charm."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, silence hung between us, only broken by the distant noise of a crew member calling out to someone down the hallway.

"Five years old?" Charm repeated, blinking in astonishment. Then she smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching as she shook her head. "I see where he gets his temper because y'all react the same way."

I had to laugh at that, a real, heartfelt laugh that pushed away the last of the tension in my shoulders. "What can I say? The kid's got good instincts. If he thinks someone's hurting me, he's going to step in. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Amias' little hands were still latched onto my shirt, his tiny fingers digging into the fabric like he was afraid to let go. He looked up at me with his big, solemn eyes, and I knew he was still trying to process what he had seen. In his world, his father being hurt was a crime that deserved punishment, and he was going to make sure that no one got away with it.

"You're going to have to talk to him more, though," Charm said, her voice softening. "He needs to understand that what he's seeing isn't real sometimes. You don't want him thinking he has to fight everyone who walks by."

"Yeah, I know," I said, nodding. "But tonight, I don't want to take that from him. He's two years old, Charm. He's learning, and he's learning fast. I'll talk to him later, explain it more, but for tonight... let him be a kid who thinks he can take on the world for his dad. I don't mind the drama."

She shook her head again, the smile still on her face, but this time it was softer, knowing. "I see where he gets it from."

The love between us was palpable, woven into every glance, every shared memory, every moment of silent understanding. Amias might be young, but he was already part of this crazy, unpredictable life of ours, and as much as he had his moments of mischief and confusion, he had an unshakable loyalty that made everything worthwhile.

I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, feeling his soft curls tickle my lips. "You're my little warrior," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

Amias' eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw that fierce determination melt into trust. He didn't know what the world held, and he didn't know that he was still too small to fight the battles he imagined.

But he knew one thing for sure: as long as I was in his world, he'd be there, ready to take on anyone who dared come close. And that, I realized, was a kind of love that no scripted fight could ever compete with.

"Come on, little man," I said, scooping him up as he yawned, the fight leaving his eyes. "Let's get you out of here and get some rest."

Charm walked with us, a playful grin on her lips as we made our way to the car, Amias still curled in my arms, his small fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt like he was afraid to lose me.

I didn't think I'd ever forget the look on his face, that tiny warrior ready to defend his father. It was more powerful than anything I'd ever experienced in the ring—and in that moment, I knew I'd never trade it for anything.