Page 171 of Heal Me, Love Me

A few seconds passed before Keaton’s eyes opened. He blinked at the lights, then the doctor, then Coach Phil before finally finding me, and I forgot how to breathe.

My vision blurred before I could stop it. “Keaton,” I whispered.

I wanted to get to him. I wanted my gloves off, my hands on him, and his voice in my ear telling me he was okay. I wanted to undo the last few seconds, even though that wasn’t how fighting worked.

The doctor said something, and Keaton answered. I couldn’t make out the words, but he was talking. He was awake.

I bent forward, hands braced on my knees, trying to draw air into my lungs as Coach Isaac stayed beside me.

“He’s talking,” he reminded me.

“I can see that.”

“That’s good.”

“It doesn’t feel good.”

The ref came over. “We need you in the center.”

Still bent over, I looked up at him. “For what?”

“The announcement.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant. Then I remembered the crowd was still waiting for the fight result to be announced, and for me to act as if my raised hand mattered while Keaton was still on the mat with a doctor beside him. “No.” I shook my head as I stood upright.

“Rowan,” Coach Isaac warned, like he expected me to care about the win as much as everyone else expected me to.

“I’m not doing that.”

“It’s part of the process.”

“I don’t care.”

The referee looked between us. “We have to make it official.”

Coach Isaac’s hand stayed on my arm, but his attention turned toward the table outside the cage. “Do what you have to do.”

“I need him in the center,” the ref pushed back.

“No, you don’t,” Coach Isaac stated.

A beat passed before the guy trying to get me to the center looked away from Coach Isaac and gave the signal.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has called a stop to this contest in round three. Your winner by knockout, Rowan Cross.”

The crowd reacted around us, but I kept my eyes on Keaton. He was still on the mat, still pale, still too slow as he blinked at Coach Phil.

Nothing about this felt like a win.

I hadn’t raised my hand or stood in the center, and I hadn’t smiled for the cameras or pretended the sound of the crowd mattered more than Keaton sitting there trying to piece together the last few minutes.

Coach Isaac’s grip loosened. “Wait until they clear him.”

“I need to get to him.”

“I know.”

“Then let me go.”