Page 152 of Heal Me, Love Me

He folded his hands on the desk. “You’re both undefeated. You’re both coming off big wins. You’re both getting attention beyond your local markets. From a matchmaking standpoint, it’s easy to see why they’d want this fight. It doesn’t hurt that you trained together for a while and know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They’ll use all of that.”

From a fighter’s perspective, I could see why people would be interested in the matchup. We were former training partners who took different paths to reach the same point in our careers. Rowan was a skilled fighter, and so was I. We’d both been building momentum, and neither of us had taken a loss.

The problem was that I couldn’t look at the contract strictly as a fighter. Every time my eyes fell on his name, my mind went to everything else tied to him—the nights we spent together, sitting by the river, playing video games, and every other moment we’d shared over the years.

“Has Rowan seen this yet?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s likely his management team has. Whether it’s reached him yet is anybody’s guess.”

Somewhere in Tampa, there was a decent chance Rowan was looking at the same offer. Maybe he’d already seen it. Maybe he was sitting in an office, having a conversation a lot like this one. Maybe he’d already decided what he wanted to do. Or maybe he was struggling like me, because although I’d initially been surprised at seeing Rowan’s name on the contract, everything Devon said rang true.

If this had been a bad opportunity, the answer would have been easy. Instead, it was the biggest opportunity of my career so far, and I wasn’t sure I could afford to turn it down.

28

Rowan

Coach Isaac madeus run the cage-pressure sequence until my legs felt like shit and sweat kept dripping into my eyes. By the end of the last round, I had Reid pinned against the fence, one shoulder pressing into his chest as Coach Isaac circled us with his arms folded.

“Again,” he ordered.

Reid groaned. “You hate us.”

“I hate lazy exits,” Coach Isaac replied. “If you don’t want to get trapped, then don’t let him trap you.”

I eased back and wiped the sweat from my face with the bottom of my shirt. “You heard him.”

Reid shot me a look. “Don’t start enjoying this.”

“Too late.” I smirked.

The timer buzzed before we could reset, and Coach Isaac raised his hand. “That’s enough. Cool down, then get out of my gym before I find something else wrong with you.”

Dante laughed from where he leaned against the cage door, towel around his neck. “That means you’re improving.”

Coach Isaac’s attention shifted to him. “It means he can follow instructions.”

“I’ll take it,” I replied.

“Don’t get comfortable,” Coach Isaac warned.

I smiled despite the ache in my shoulders and climbed out of the cage. My body was tired the way it usually was after a morning at Atlantic Combat, where every drill reminded me exactly why I’d moved across the country. Nothing about this place let me settle. Every sequence tied into another, every mistake was caught, and every round exposed another hole I still had to fix.

It sucked in the best possible way.

I crossed to the benches and picked up my phone, expecting only a few notifications from The Loop and maybe a text from Mom asking whether I was eating enough. Instead, Grant’s name filled the screen.

Grant

Can you come by the office when you’re done training?

That was all it took for my pulse to pick up. Grant didn’t usually text vague shit. If he wanted me in person, there was a reason.

Yeah. I’ll head over after I shower

Good. See you soon

Once I was cleaned up, I changed into a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and my riding boots, then grabbed my jacket, gloves, and helmet from my locker. The Ducati was parked by the side of the building, road dust still clinging to the wheels because I hadn’t had the energy to clean it since getting back to Tampa.