Page 151 of Heal Me, Love Me

“Hey,” I greeted in return.

“I’ve got about three minutes before my next meeting, so let’s make this quick.” He sounded distracted, which wasn’t surprising. The MLB trade deadline was approaching, and half his clients were probably convinced their careers depended on him answering their calls right that minute. “I got you another fight.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Already?”

“Yep. We’re looking at November.” I heard papers shuffling on the other end of the line. “It’s a good opportunity, with abigger stage and a bigger audience. Exactly the kind of fight we were hoping for after Vegas.”

“That’s great.”

“It is. Unfortunately, I’ve got three general managers trying to rob each other blind, and two baseball players who don’t want to be on the same team, so Devon’s going to walk you through the details.”

I laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Someone called his name in the background. “That’s my cue. Review the paperwork and talk it through, and I’ll call you tomorrow. If everything looks good, we’ll make it official.”

The call disconnected before I could respond.

“All right.” Devon slid a folder across the desk. “Let’s take a look at what Marcos sent over.”

I opened it and immediately recognized the promotion company’s logo. It wasn’t one of the giants in the sport, but it was the kind of organization people paid attention to, and one that could open more doors if things went well.

The farther I read, the better the contract looked.

The show fee was decent, and the purse was larger than anything I’d earned before. The event would be streamed nationally, and the November date gave me plenty of time to recover before starting camp again. By the time I reached the venue information and saw Austin, Texas, listed on the page, I was already mentally rearranging the next few months of my life.

“Not bad,” I said.

Devon chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”

I kept reading, and my eyes dropped to the opponent section. For a second, my brain didn’t register what I was seeing.

Rowan Cross.

I stared at his name for a moment before scanning farther down the page, then back up again as if the name might somehow change if I gave it the chance. It didn’t.

I leaned back in my chair. “Is this serious?”

He nodded. “Very.”

I looked back down at the paperwork. It wasn’t that long ago that Rowan and I were in a relationship, trying to figure out a way to make it work long-distance. Now I was holding a contract that put us in a cage, facing off against each other. The whole thing felt … wrong.

“Why Rowan?” I finally asked.

“Because that’s what the promoters want.”

“Still feels weird.”

“Of course it does.” Devon shrugged. “You dated the guy.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey,” he began. “I don’t know how many people knew you two were together or if that will become part of the fight conversation?—”

“It won’t.”

He lifted a brow. “But even without that, there’s still a story there that’ll sell the fight.”

“What story is that?”