Page 148 of Heal Me, Love Me

“I wanted to see him fight.”

“You could’ve watched the stream.”

“I wanted to see him win in person.”

Then his attention moved over me, not as if he were looking at me as Keaton’s ex, but as a fighter. He took in my stance, my shoulders, and the way I carried myself after another camp and another fight, the same way he used to study people on the mats at Titan.

I didn’t like it.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re still fighting at middleweight?”

Middleweight meant fighting between one hundred seventy-one pounds and one hundred eighty-five pounds, and while my weight class wasn’t hard to find, the question was too specific to sound casual. “Why?”

“Are you?”

“For now.”

“And Grant’s keeping you active?”

“He is.”

Devon’s gaze stayed on mine too long, but he didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Nothing.”

“That didn’t feel like nothing.”

“I saw your last fight,” he replied. “You looked good.”

“That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“It’s not.”

“Good. Didn’t want things to get weird.”

He matched my stance. “They’re already weird, Cross.”

“I’m leaving,” I stated.

“Then leave.”

I turned to do just that, but he spoke again.

“And Cross?”

I paused without turning to face him.

“If staying away is what you’re doing, do it better.”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I made my way through the casino floor to where I could catch a ride back to my hotel. My rideshare pulled up a few minutes later, and I climbed into the back seat.

The driver checked the app. “Rowan?”

“Yeah.”