Page 23 of Heal Me, Love Me

I turned down another street and realized where I was a few seconds before Titan came into view. I slowed without meaning to, then forced myself to keep going. I couldn’t go back there—not now, and maybe not ever—which meant I needed a new gym and a new routine, somewhere Keaton and Devon weren’t in every room, on every mat, and in every damn memory.

I rode a few more miles before pulling into a gas station and killing the engine. For a second, I sat there with both boots planted on the ground, hands resting on the grips, helmet still on.

I’d left the arena, LA, and the house, but somehow, Keaton was still everywhere.

After taking off my helmet, I drew in a breath that smelled like gas and hot asphalt, and all I could think about was the phone I’d left in my old room. I could leave it that way. I could ride until I was too tired to think, then go back to my parents’ house and pretend one more night would make this easier.

It wouldn’t.

I already knew that.

By the time I got back, it was after three in the afternoon. Mom’s car was gone, and Dad’s truck was still in the driveway. I parked the bike in the garage, hung my helmet on the handlebar, and headed inside.

Dad was in the living room with the TV on, and he looked over as soon as I came in. “Feel better?”

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “No.”

His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You will be.”

“Hope so.”

He nodded and looked back at the TV, giving me space again.

I walked down the hall to my old room, where my phone still sat on the nightstand, its black screen facing up exactly where I’dleft it. This time, I didn’t allow enough time to talk myself out of pressing the side button.

The screen lit up, and once it booted, notifications started coming through, mostly texts from Keaton. His name filled the screen again and again, but I didn’t open the thread right away. I stared at it like it might hit me if I moved wrong.

Then I tapped his name.

The messages I’d already seen were still there. The ones asking where I was, if I was okay, begging me to answer.

Then came the ones I hadn’t seen yet:

What the fuck?

Are you serious right now?

Call me and tell me what’s going on

He’d been scared, then pissed, and I’d given him a reason to be both.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I wasn’t ready to hear his voice, explanations, accusations, or the sound of him saying my name as if I’d hurt him again.

But Mom was right. I didn’t know the ending yet.

I typed the only thing I could manage:

We need to talk

5

Keaton

I lingeredin Rowan’s doorway longer than I should have, staring at a room that left me more confused than I’d been when I’d walked in.

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath, even though nothing about this was even close to okay.

I took a step back, then another, as if putting distance between me and his empty bedroom might change things. Of course, it didn’t.