Page 57 of Heal Me, Love Me

Coach Luis stood in front of them, arms folded. “Slow it down. If your feet are wrong, everything that follows is wrong.”

Keaton glanced over before I’d taken three steps inside, checking my face like he was looking for anger, nerves, or a reason to step away from the group and follow me.

I gave him the slightest lift of my chin. Then Coach Luis called his name, and he looked away.

Good.

If he’d stepped toward me, I would’ve wanted him to keep coming.

Devon’s office door was open. He stood behind his desk, phone in hand, talking to someone. When he saw me, he ended the call and set the phone down. I walked in and stopped just inside the doorway.

“Rowan,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming in.”

I gave him a short nod. “Yeah.”

His attention moved over me. “You can close the door.”

“I’d rather keep it open.”

He didn’t argue. “Okay. Sure.”

I stayed standing.

He leaned back against the front of his desk, folding his arms. “Like I mentioned in my text, Grant Bishop reached out. He asked about your training, work ethic, and discipline. Whether you listen or just think you do.”

“And?”

“I told him the truth.”

“And that is?”

“I told him you work hard. You’re coachable when someone earns your respect. Your boxing is sharp, and your jiu-jitsu base is solid, but MMA is still new enough that there are gaps in how you connect everything.”

That was true.

Annoyingly true.

“What else did you tell him?” I wondered.

“I explained that you don’t panic under pressure, which matters more than people realize, especially this early in your career.”

I looked toward the framed posters on his wall: all Titan athletes, winning moments, and proof that Devon knew how to train fighters at a high level.

For a while, I’d wanted to represent Titan.

“Thanks.”

“You don’t sound thankful.”

“I am.”

“But?”

I moved my attention back to him. “I’m not coming back.”

“You’re leaving the gym?” he questioned.

“Yeah.”