Page 128 of Heal Me, Love Me

A few hours later, he tagged me again when he shared the fight announcement on his story. This time, he added a plane emoji next to my name and wrote:

Long flight from California just to learn how we fight down here

It was petty bullshit, but it still made me want to hit him that much more, which was exactly why Coach Isaac kept making Reid move like him.

“Again,” Coach Isaac ordered from outside the cage.

I reset in front of Reid and dragged in a breath through my mouthpiece. My shirt was soaked, my calves were tight, and Reid kept his guard high as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.

Coach Isaac tapped the cage. “Navarro wants you convinced he’s retreating, then he’s going to plant and make you pay for stepping heavy. You don’t get to be mad in there unless you can stay smart while you do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The timer beeped, and Reid started circling, drifting backward just enough to make me want to follow. I stepped in behind my jab, but I put too much behind it and reached for him instead of cutting him off. Reid caught me with the right before I could get my head out of the way.

“Late,” Coach Isaac called.

I backed up and reset, jaw tight.

Reid didn’t drop his guard. “You’re loading up when I give ground.”

I knew what he meant. Every time he backed up, I wanted to follow with something heavy enough to stop him. Against Navarro, that would get me caught.

“I know.” I took a breath and reset my stance.

“Then stop reaching for me.”

We reset, and this time, when Reid gave me the retreat, I didn’t chase. I let him show me the angle, made him commit to the step, then drove in on the second beat with my shoulder tight against his chest and my hands fighting for position before he could slide off the fence.

“Better,” Coach Isaac said. “Keep him on the fence.”

Reid dug for an underhook, shoved at my head, and tried to turn his hips enough to slide off. I kept my forehead pressed tight and moved my feet, but I was using too much upper body to drag him down.

“Don’t muscle him,” Coach Isaac instructed. “Make him carry your weight.”

I bent my knees, tightened my grip around Reid’s hips, and drove my shoulder into his chest. He fought the pressure, but I kept adjusting, inch by inch, keeping him trapped against the fence until the buzzer sounded.

Reid stopped resisting. “That’s better. You didn’t chase me.”

“Only because you finally gave me something to trap.”

“Doesn’t matter. If I give you the opening and you use it, that’s still yours.” Reid nudged his head toward the bench where my phone sat. “Also, I was thinking. If Navarro’s gonna keep calling you Cali Boy, you need a better fighter name.”

“I don’t need any fighter name.”

“Yeah, you do.” He thought for a few seconds. “What about Lockdown?”

I arched a brow. “What?”

“You spent half the round cutting me off and the other half keeping me stuck on the fence.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t get out, couldn’t make space, and you had me locked down.”

“No.” I shook my head.

Coach Isaac glanced between us. “It’s better than Cali Boy.”

Reid laughed as he backed toward the cage door. “You heard him, Rowan ‘Lockdown’ Cross.”

“I’m going to hit you harder next round.”