Page 186 of Heal Me, Love Me
He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. “You can, but you’re acting anxious about it.”
“I’m just making sure we make it on time for the reservation. That’s all.”
He stepped close enough that I caught the clean scent of his soap. “Whatever you’re overthinking about, you can talk to me about it.”
The words stayed with me for a second because that was the difference between now and before. There had been a time when I’d kept too much in my head, convinced that silence was control and that control meant I could keep everything from falling apart. It never worked, especially with him.
“I know,” I answered. “But there’s nothing to say other than I’m hungry.”
“Okay.”
His hand slid to the back of my neck. “You going to kiss me before we leave, or keep pretending nothing’s going on?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Then kiss me.”
I let out a laugh and kissed him like he wanted. He leaned into it easily, his fingers curling against my neck as his other hand gripped the front of my shirt. The kiss started slowly, then deepened as he pressed against me.
I forced myself to pull back. “We should go.”
He stayed close for another second, then grabbed his wallet from the counter and slid it into his back pocket. “All right. Let’s go. I’m hungry too.”
Getting him to Tampa didn’t happen right away. After Austin, Keaton had to heal, and neither of us pretended his concussion was something he could push through, even though we were tired of being apart. Marcos wasn’t against Florida, but he wasn’t handing Keaton over to Atlantic Combat just because I trained there either. He had other gyms in mind. Meanwhile, Grant had relationships at Atlantic Combat, but Coach Isaac wasn’t giving anyone a spot just because they were someone’s boyfriend. So it took several calls, meetings, and details to work through before anything got settled.
The one thing Keaton and I wouldn’t bend on was fighting each other again. We’d done it once, and that was enough. If we were going to build careers in the same city, everyone around us needed to understand we wouldn’t agree to fight each other again.
When Keaton finally moved across the country, we donated his old car and used part of the fight money to buy something in Tampa that made more sense for both of us than relying on my bike. It wasn’t flashy, but it had enough room for training bags, groceries, and other bulky items. Plus, we no longer had to worry about rain, helmets, or showing up somewhere with our hair wrecked.
Coach Phil still checked in from California once in a while, and Keaton always took those calls. But by the time spring settled in, he’d found his rhythm at Atlantic Combat. Coach Isaac didn’t make it easy on him, which was exactly how Keaton wanted it. He worked, listened, pushed back when he needed to, and earned his place without anyone treating him as my boyfriend first and a fighter second.
Once we finally got out the door, we drove to the restaurant I’d picked for dinner. I parked, and Keaton met me at the front of the car before we walked inside together.
Keaton ordered fish with mashed potatoes, then stole three fries and half the sauce from my blackened mahi sandwich. On the topic of training, he talked about how Coach Isaac had paired him with a guy who kept dropping his right hand, and how Atlantic Combat still didn’t feel as familiar as Titan had, even though he liked it here.
“I think that’s normal,” I answered.
“What part?”
“Atlantic Combat not feeling familiar yet.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You were at Titan for a couple of years, and you had history there.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
I set my water down. “Do you miss it?”
He was quiet for a second. “Sometimes. I mean, I miss the guys. I miss knowing exactly where I fit when I walk in. At Titan, I didn’t have to prove I belonged there, but I don’t miss how much history came with it.”
“Devon?”
Keaton’s eyes lifted to mine. “Yeah. Him, the rental, everything people knew, and everything they didn’t.”
“That makes sense.”
“It does?”
