Page 127 of Heal Me, Love Me

“Exactly.” He rested his elbows on the island. “The problem isn’t that she wants me to meet someone, it’s that I’d actually like to.”

That surprised me enough to make me stop wiping the counters. “You would?”

“Yeah. I mean, but obviously, I don’t want any of the people my parents have in mind.”

“I’d assume not if they’re trying to set you up with women.”

He grinned. “That’s definitely a big reason, but I also want it to be my choice.”

“That makes sense. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“You think so?”

“Unfortunately for whoever ends up dating you, yes,” I teased.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.” I rinsed the sponge and put it back in the holder. “But I’ll let you get back to your profile.”

I left him muttering over which photo to pick and made my way down the hallway to my room. I had another hour before I needed to leave for work, so I closed the door behind me and sat on the edge of my bed.

I grabbed my phone and opened The Loop. The first thing that popped up was a clip from Atlantic Combat. Rowan was in the cage, working through combinations as a crowd gathered around the outside. The clip was only a few seconds long, so I watched it twice.

The next post was a photo of him hitting pads, followed by another clip on the Apex Fight Management account. The next was one from a local MMA page discussing his upcoming fight. Apparently, everyone in Florida had decided Rowan was the most interesting person on the internet. And truth be told, he looked great, but I couldn’t shake the pang of jealousy gnawing at me.

I scrolled past a few more posts before another familiar face appeared on my screen. My mother’s profile picture stared back at me.

The post, which included dozens of photos, had gone up a few hours earlier. One showed my mom and Dave with their arms wrapped around each other, standing in front of a winery. Another showed them cutting a wedding cake. And a group photo with a caption:

Meet my new stepkids!

I swiped through the rest of the photos. The wedding itself wasn’t a surprise. What still stung was that I’d never received an official invitation after I told her I couldn’t bartend for her.

I moved to another photo. Everyone looked happy, and a knot settled in my stomach. It wasn’t like I’d wanted to be there. At least, I didn’t think I had, but seeing the pictures felt like proof that yet another person in my life had moved on without me.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard. Rowan was in Tampa, preparing for a fight that could boost his career. My mother seemed to be starting a new family I wasn’t part of. Even Mason was talking about putting himself out there to find someone. Meanwhile, I’d spent the last month celebrating things like getting rid of a sling and spending some time with my coaches.

Deep down, I felt stupid for throwing a pity party. My recovery was going well. I was back at work and growing stronger every day. Objectively, things were moving in the right direction. It just didn’t feel that way.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed, and I hoped it was Rowan. Instead, it was a reminder that my shift was starting soon.

I grabbed my keys off the dresser and headed for the door. There was nothing I could do about Rowan in Florida, my mother’s wedding, or the fact that everybody’s life seemed to be accelerating while mine was still trying to find its footing.

And I hated feeling left behind.

22

Rowan

Coach Isaac had been makingme drill counters to Trent Navarro’s overhand right since six-thirty that morning, and when I stepped into the cage with Reid, I was already sick of building my day around one punch.

Navarro wasn’t at Atlantic Combat, but after a week of fight footage and drills designed around his timing, it didn’t feel like he had to be. Reid had been copying Navarro’s rhythm all morning, drifting backward just enough to bait me into following, and every time I stepped in too hard or gave the right hand a clean target, Coach Isaac called me out.

The Loop wasn’t helping either.

Grant had warned me that Navarro would talk once the fight was announced, and he was right. It wasn’t anything wild, just little things meant to make me take a second look when I should’ve known better. The first notification came from a mitt-work video Navarro had tagged me in. The caption said:

Let’s see if Cali Boy can fight going backward