Page 28 of Heal Me, Love Me

“But I don’t know what ‘us’ looks like now,” he admitted.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay, but I’m still mad.”

I gave him a half-smile. “I assumed that was the case.”

“And I still don’t want to see Devon’s face every day.”

My grin disappeared. “I don’t blame you because I’m pissed at him too. I haven’t even let myself think about that part since everything went to hell so fast. But he crossed a line.”

“He kissed you!”

“I know.”

“And you’re still going back there.”

“Yeah,” I repeated. “I understand you don’t like it. I’m also not going to pretend everything between you and me is fine because it’s not. One conversation won’t fix all our issues, but I’m not ready to walk away from you just because we’re bad at talking.”

“I’m really bad at this.”

“Yeah. You are.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re supposed to disagree.”

“What? I’m bad at this shit too,” I admitted.

That got a little smile out of him before he rubbed his palms over his thighs, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. The screen lit up and he whispered, “Holy shit.”

6

Rowan

I staredat my phone screen, unable to believe my eyes.

Grant Bishop wants to send you a message

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

I knew that name.

Grant Bishop wasn’t Marcos Silva. He didn’t represent athletes across half a dozen sports or have a massive agency behind him, but every fighter trying to make something of himself knew his name. Apex Fight Management was smaller than Elevate Sports Management, but it was more specialized and built for combat sport athletes. Bishop represented established fighters, maintained strong connections, and wielded real influence.

“What?” Keaton asked.

I didn’t answer right away. For the first time since I’d walked out of the arena in LA, my future didn’t feel like a dead end. Grant’s message gave me another option, even if I wasn’t readyto decide what to do with it. “Rowan,” Keaton prodded. “What happened?”

I glanced up at him, and the fear on his face brought me back to us. After the way I’d disappeared the night before, hearing me say “holy shit” while staring at my phone probably made him think something else had happened. “It’s not bad,” I replied.

His shoulders eased a fraction. “Okay?”

“At least, I don’t think it is.”

“That doesn’t exactly clear things up.”

I turned the phone enough for him to see the lock screen. “Grant Bishop sent me a DM on The Loop.”

Keaton’s eyes dropped to the notification before he slowly said, “Holy. Shit.”