Chapter 9
Rowan
Seven Months Later – Summer
My parents took me to Stockton for my jiu-jitsu tournament, and by the time we got inside, the place was already buzzing.
Security was moving everyone through metal detectors and checking bags at the front.
Once inside, families filed into the bleachers while kids in their team gis trailed behind coaches carrying gear bags.
Mats covered most of the floor, which had been broken up into sections with barriers and score tables.
Dad handed me my duffle. “Where’s your team?”
I scanned the floor until I spotted our academy banner clipped to a barricade near the warm-up area. “Over there.”
Mom touched my arm before I could move. “Did you eat enough?”
I gave her an annoyed look. “Yes.”
“An actual yes, or your version of yes?”
Dad laughed.
“I ate,” I replied. “I’m fine.”
She studied my face. “You’re nervous.”
“Of course I’m nervous.” Even after nearly ten years of doing BJJ, I still worried I might lose.
Dad nudged his head toward the team area. “Then go find your people.”
“We’ll get seats,” Mom said.
I began stepping back. “Don’t sit too close.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because you’ll yell and distract me.”
“I don’t yell.”
Dad smirked. “She yells.”
She smacked his arm. “I support.”
I laughed and headed off before she could ask me anything else.
Some guys were stretching, others were taping their fingers, and a few were just standing around pretending they weren’t checking the brackets every five seconds.
Coach Pete stood in the middle with a clipboard in one hand and a coffee in the other, while Coach Darren helped one of the younger kids fix his belt, and Coach Mike crouched beside one of the teen girls from our gym, going over something with her.
I dropped my bag with the rest of the team’s stuff.
Coach Pete spotted me. “You weigh in yet?”
“Not yet.”
He jerked his chin toward check-in. “Then quit standing here and go.”
Check-in was quick. The volunteer searched for my name, verified my division, and signaled me to proceed to weigh-ins. Another volunteer reviewed my form, directed me onto the scale, and nodded as I finished.
“All good.”
That should’ve settled me because I’d made weight, and I knew my bracket. With only three guys in my division, if I handled business, then I’d fight twice and be done.
But I still felt nervous, and it wasn’t because of the tournament.
On the way back to the team area, I scanned the entrance.
Nothing.
Keaton hadn’t promised he’d show up. When I’d asked if he wanted to come, he paused for a second and said, “Yeah, maybe.”
I’d made it clear that nobody from school would be in Stockton.
By then, I’d learned Westly had been the one who cornered him in the parking lot after that baseball game.
I hadn’t known it that night, but I knew now, and that was enough to make asking Keaton to come to anything public feel loaded in a way I hated.
This was different, though. Summer. Stockton.
No school crowd. No baseball or football guys.
No reason for him to think anybody would care about him being in the stands.
I still wasn’t sure if that would be enough to convince him to show.
I stretched along with the rest of the team and tried to settle into the routines that always helped.
Coach Darren passed behind me and pointed toward another mat where one of our guys got stuffed trying to force a bad takedown. “Don’t do that.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.”
Coach Pete stopped beside me as I tied my belt. “Don’t let anybody set the pace on you. You get on top, stay there.”
“Yes, Coach.” I peeked at the main doors again and saw Keaton had just come through them.
He stopped for a second and scanned the floor. When his gaze found mine, every part of me went still.
He smiled.
I smiled back, and the nerves intensified because this would be the first time he’d see me compete one on one.
I watched him climb the stairs.
Mom spotted him before he reached their row. Dad saw him and waved him over as if Keaton showing up at a tournament in Stockton made perfect sense. Mom moved her bag off the seat next to her, and a second later, he sat down with them.
A volunteer called my division.
Coach Pete pointed at the mat. “That’s you. Mouthguard in.”
I shoved it in and followed him over.
My first opponent was shorter than me and had a thicker build through the shoulders. His coach stayed close, talking the whole time while the kid bounced on his feet and tugged at his sleeves.
Coach Pete grabbed my arm before I stepped onto the mat. “He’s going to come at you fast because he thinks fast is the same thing as smart. Don’t let him drag you into that.”
I rolled my shoulders back. “Got it.”
I took a breath and kept my focus where it belonged.
The ref waved us in.
We bowed, slapped hands, bumped fists, and began.
The kid immediately reached for me, trying to grab my collar and sleeve before I could move.
I broke free from the first grip, caught his hand, and circled around before he settled down.
He pushed into me, so I let him think he had the advantage, then changed my direction and pulled him off-balance.
We hit the mat hard.
He tried to scramble up. I stayed heavy and pushed him back down. He shoved at my shoulder and tried to get a knee in, but I shut it down before he could build on it.
“Good,” Coach Pete barked from the sideline. “Stay on him.”
I adjusted and kept pressure on him as he turned and fought for space. The kid got frustrated and became erratic. That was enough. I moved behind him, locked in the choke, and tightened.
He tapped my arm.
I let go and sat back, breathing heavily as the room rushed into focus again. The kid stood up. I followed, and the referee raised my hand.
My head tipped up before I could stop myself.
Keaton was still there with my parents; all three were smiling at me.
Winning should’ve been the part that affected me.
It wasn’t.
It was that he came.
I saw my parents and Keaton over to the side, waiting for me.
Mom smiled the moment she saw me coming. “There’s my champion.”
Dad checked out the medal in my hand. “Not bad.”
I snorted. “Not bad?”
Keaton’s mouth twitched.
Mom was already digging through her purse. “Hold on. I want a picture.”
“I’m sweaty.”
“You won gold. I don’t care.”
She pulled out her phone and waved me closer. Dad stepped in beside me without argument. Keaton stayed where he was, hands in his pockets.
“I want one of you too, Keaton,” Mom said after she got the one of me and my father.
Keaton’s brows lifted. “What?”
“You came all the way out here. You’re in the picture too.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
Keaton gave me a look.
Dad glanced at him. “She’s not asking.”
Keaton exhaled and moved over next to me.
Mom held up the phone. “All right. Smile.”
She snapped the photo, then looked down at the screen and nodded. “Perfect.”
I took one with my mom, and then Keaton took one of me with both of my parents.
“I’m gonna ride back with Keaton,” I announced.
Mom raised a brow. “You are?”
“Yeah.”
“You heading straight home?” Dad asked Keaton.
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. We’ll see you there,” Mom said.
They headed for the exit, and I watched them go, then turned to Keaton.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I tossed my bag into the backseat of his car, got in, and waited until he pulled out of the lot before I started to grill him. “So?”
“So what?”
“You came all the way to Stockton, sat with my parents, watched me win gold, and now you’re pretending you don’t have thoughts?”
“I have thoughts.”
I sank back against the seat. “Good. Let’s hear them.”
He blew out a breath. “I didn’t realize jiu-jitsu involved so much rolling around.”
I laughed. “That’s your big takeaway?”
“It was a lot.”
“It’s grappling.”
“I know that now.”
I let that hang there for a second, then asked, “Were you jealous?”
His head snapped toward me, then back to the road. “What?”
I laughed. “You heard me.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“Jealous,” I repeated, grinning wider now. “You sound a little jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of all the guys rolling around with me.”
His fingers squeezed the wheel. “That’s not what I meant.”
I turned more in my seat so I could watch his face. “Okay. What do you mean then?”
“Rowan,” he grumbled.
“What? I’m trying to understand your feedback.”
“My feedback is that it looked intense.”
“Sure.”
“It did.”
“But also maybe a little hard for you to watch?” I probed.
He exhaled through his nose. “You’re making this weird on purpose.”
“You made it weird first.”
“I absolutely did not.”
I laughed. “You got in the car and your first real thought was, ‘wow, that was a lot of dudes all over Rowan’.”
He groaned. “That is not what I said.”
“It’s what I heard.”
“You heard wrong.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
I waited him out.
He lasted maybe three seconds. “It was just weird seeing you like that.”
That shut me up for half a beat. “Like what?”
He kept his attention on the road. “That close to somebody. That … physical.”
I smiled again, slower this time. “So you were jealous?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I was trying to figure out how to explain it without you acting like this.”
“Like what?”
“Annoying.”
I laughed and peered out the window for a second. “You’re mad.”
He went quiet, which was all I needed.
“Wow.” I smirked.
“Don’t.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You totally are.”
He pulled to a stop at a red light and finally looked at me. “You done?”
“Not even close.”
He rolled his eyes.
“This is my favorite thing to happen all day.” I beamed.
“You won gold today.”
“And somehow you being jealous is better.”
The light turned green, and he pulled forward again. After a second, he muttered, “Fine. I didn’t like watching those guys all over you.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I definitely had.
I sat there for a second, staring at him, then smiled before I could stop it. “Keaton.”
“Don’t make it worse.”
“You were so jealous.”
He didn’t deny it.
I laughed under my breath. “You were.”
He turned onto the freeway entrance ramp. Shaking his head, he said, “I’m never saying anything again.”
“No, keep talking. This is great.”
“It’s not great.”
“It kind of is.”
He glared at me. “For you.”
“Yeah.” I settled back in my seat. “It is, actually.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“I just found out you don’t like other guys touching me. You want me to act like that’s not a big deal?”
He didn’t answer.
That made me grin all over again.
After a second, I asked, “So what part really got to you?”
“All of it.”
“That’s not specific.”
“It’s the answer.”
I laughed. “You hated the rolling.”
“I didn’t hate it.”
“You hated the no space.”
He stayed quiet.
I tilted my head. “You hated when I had that guy pinned with me on top of him?”
He still didn’t say anything.
“You hated that when I was on top of him, my crotch was against his?”
His mouth tightened.
“Oh my God,” I replied. “That one got you.”
“Rowan.”
“It did. You watched me wrap around somebody and lost your mind.”
“I didn’t lose my mind.”
“You got close.”
He let out a breath. “You are never letting this go, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
That got the smallest smile out of him, and I caught it right away. “There it is.”
“Shut up.”
“You smiled.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, and you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he said again, but his tone lacked any of its previous fight.
I smirked at the window. “Sure.”
A few seconds passed before he said, quieter this time, “You did look good out there.”
My head turned toward him quickly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I let myself sit with that for a second, then asked, “You gonna come to another tournament?”
He took his time answering. “Maybe.”
“You mean yes.”
“I mean maybe.”
“You’re gonna sit there jealous in the stands again?”
“Keep pushing and I won’t come.”
I grinned. “You liked watching me win.”
He didn’t deny it.
That told me enough.
I leaned back and let the smirk stay on my face. “Thought so.”
He was quiet for a second, then went, “I liked being there.”
That fucked with me more than the jealousy thing.
I looked down at the medal in my lap so he wouldn’t see too much on my face. “Cool.”
He glanced at me. “You’re bad at acting normal.”
I laughed under my breath. “You’re one to talk.”
That got me another almost-smile, and the rest of the drive felt different after that.
My head kept circling back to what Keaton had admitted without meaning to.
He hadn’t liked watching other guys with their hands on me, and he hadn’t even tried to hide it by the end.
I kept looking at him when he was focused on the road, thinking about undoing his jeans and touching him.
Thinking about him rolling on top of me, doing more than kissing, which we did a lot of.
The whole car felt too small and not small enough at the same time, and by then I wanted the drive to take longer just so I didn’t have to stop wanting him.
The moment we turned onto our street, flashing red and blue lights hit the inside of the car.
My stomach dropped so fast it hurt.
Keaton slowed down. “What the hell?”
An ambulance sat at the end of my driveway. Fire trucks were parked out front. A few neighbors stood on the sidewalk, staring toward our houses.
“Oh, shit,” I breathed, before looking at my best friend.
Every bit of color drained from his face. “I think they’re at my place.”
He pulled to the curb so fast the car jerked, and we both jumped out as he cut the engine.
I saw my parents standing on the grass with his mom. She had one arm wrapped around herself and tears pouring down her face, her whole body shaking as she tried to hold it together.
“Mom,” Keaton said.
She turned at the sound of his voice and began to cry even harder. “Keaton.”
He got to her fast. “What happened?”
“He collapsed.” Her voice wavered so badly the words nearly fell apart. “He was in the kitchen, and then he just collapsed.”
The stretcher came through before anything else was said.
Keaton’s father was strapped to a gurney with an oxygen mask over his face while the paramedics hurried along the walkway. One of them was talking, but I couldn’t hear the words over the sound of my own pulse.
Keaton took a step forward, but his mom snatched his arm to stop him.
The paramedics rolled the stretcher directly to the ambulance, and one of them said, “A family member can ride with us.”
“I’m going,” his mom answered right away.
Keaton looked at her, then at his father.
“Follow us,” she said to Keaton.
He nodded.
His mom got into the ambulance. The doors closed a second later, and the siren turned on before it drove away.
He turned toward his car, and I got back into it with him.