Chapter 21
ROWAN
I rolled my bike into my parents’ driveway just before six in the evening, killed the engine, and stayed there for a second with my hands still on the handlebars.
My eyes drifted next door out of habit more than anything.
It had been years since that house had belonged to Keaton’s family, years since his mom had sold it.
Nothing was left that belonged to them now.
Different cars. Different people. Different life.
But sometimes I still looked anyway, still saw flashes of the boy next door shooting hoops in the driveway or climbing into my window without our parents knowing.
Now I was the one sneaking into his room.
I took off my helmet, ran a hand through my hair, and headed up to the front door.
Mom opened it before I could knock, took one look at me, and gaped. “I know that’s not a bruise on your cheek, and when did you decide to start growing your hair out?”
I laughed and stepped into the entryway, the smell of her spaghetti and meatballs making my stomach growl. “Good to see you too.”
“I’m serious.” She reached up and caught a piece of it between her fingers. “It’s getting long.”
“It is.”
“You’re keeping it?”
I pushed it away from my face. “Yeah. I can now.”
Dad’s voice came from the kitchen. “That’s what happens when the Air Force no longer has a say.”
Mom glanced his way. “That doesn’t mean he has to look like he’s auditioning for a band.”
Dad came around the corner with a beer in his hand and gave me a quick once-over. “Let the kid enjoy civilian life.”
I smirked. “See? He gets it.” Although I wasn’t a kid.
Mom pointed at my face. “I’d care less about the hair if you weren’t standing here bruised.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Training or stupidity?”
“Training.”
She softly touched my cheek again. “Does it hurt?”
“Not enough to matter.”
Dad took a drink. “That’s a Cross answer.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “That’s because you two think admitting pain is some sort of weakness.”
I set my helmet on the table by the door. “You inviting me in, or are we doing the whole interrogation in the entryway?”
Mom stepped back. “Yes. I just finished making dinner.”
We went to the kitchen, and I sat in my usual spot at the table.
Dad sat down in the chair across from me as Mom handed us plates of pasta. “So how bad are the coaches working you right now?”
I picked up my fork and twirled the noodles onto it. “Bad enough that everything hurts, and I’m sleeping like I got hit by a truck.”
Mom frowned. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It’s just training, Mom.”
Dad took a bite. “That means it’s working as it should.”
“You saying that never makes it sound better.” She bit into a piece of bread.
“It’s not supposed to,” Dad stated.
I chuckled. “You two really know how to make a guy feel cared for.”
Dad shrugged. “You didn’t come over here on a Saturday night just so your mother could examine your face and argue with me about your hair.”
“No.” I swallowed, then set my fork down. “Devon, the owner of Titan Elite, is taking me to LA in a few months for a fight.”
Mom’s entire expression changed. “LA?”
“Yeah.”
Dad set his fork down too. “How big of an event are we talking about?”
“Bigger than the local stuff. Scouts are supposed to be there. Agents too.”
Mom stared at me. “Rowan, that’s huge.”
A smile pulled at my mouth. “I know.”
Dad tipped his head. “Do you know who you’re fighting yet?”
“Not for sure. Devon’s got an idea, but nothing’s locked in.”
Mom reached for her glass of wine. “How long will you be gone?”
“Just a few days.”
Dad held my gaze. “You ready for that level?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t look away. “I am.”
He studied me for another second, then picked up his fork again. “All right. Then make it count.”
“Where are you staying?” Mom asked.
“The owner of Titan Elite is handling it.”
“And who’s going?”
“A few of us from Titan.” I took another bite before adding, “Keaton too.”
Both of them looked at me.
Mom set her glass down. “You and Keaton are talking again?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?” she asked.
“Recently.”
Dad leaned back in his chair. “Recently doesn’t answer much.”
“It answers enough.”
Mom gave me a look. “It really doesn’t.”
I laughed under my breath. “We worked things out.”
Her expression softened, but she still appeared surprised. “Worked things out how?”
“We train together. We live together. We’re good.”
Dad’s brows lifted. “You live together?”
Mom blinked. “And you didn’t think to mention that?”
I looked down at my plate and shrugged. “I did. It just seemed like too much to explain when we were barely talking and I didn’t know if the whole thing was going to blow up.”
Mom was still watching me. “And so it’s going well?”
“Yeah.”
Dad asked, “No issues?”
“Not like before.”
Mom wrapped her fingers around her wineglass. “I’m not asking for details. I just want to know if it’s really okay. Whatever happened between you two back then, it hit you hard.”
It was actually me who hurt him, but they didn’t know the details. Just that we stopped talking several months before I went into the military.
“It is.” I beamed. “We’re fine.”
She held my gaze for an extra moment, then nodded. “All right.”
Dad took another sip. “That’s got to make things easier at the gym.”
“It does.”
“And going to LA with him won’t be a problem?”
“No.”
“Good,” Dad answered.
Mom’s mouth softened too. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
She peered down at her plate, then back at me. “I always hated that you two stopped being friends.”
“I know.”
Dad took a bite of garlic bread. “You don’t have to drag all that back up if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t.” I twisted more pasta around my fork.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were forks against plates and Dad setting his bottle back on the table. Then Dad said, “I’m still not going to pretend that I love you leaving the Air Force for this.”
Mom tilted her head a little toward him. “Frank.”
“No, he knows that.” Dad kept his eyes on me. “I’m not saying it to start anything. I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”
“I know.”
He went on. “I did over twenty years. I know what reliable looks like. I know what a paycheck looks like. I know what sticking with something looks like. Your walking away from that to fight was a gamble.”
“It still is,” I replied.
“Exactly.” He pointed at me with his fork. “So if this LA thing is the first real sign that gamble might turn into something solid, then take it seriously.”
“I am.”
“I know you are.” His mouth twitched. “That’s the only reason I’m not riding your ass harder.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “That’s your idea of support?”
“It is.”
I laughed. “I noticed.”
She gave me a warm smile. “I liked the stability the Air Force gave us, I’m not going to lie about that, but you were miserable those four years.”
My parents knew that I’d only joined the Air Force because of my father and not because it was something I wanted to do.
So when I told them I wanted to leave after my original contract, they understood.
They also knew my real passion was martial arts and it was always jujitsu, wrestling, and boxing that made me happy.
Dad didn’t argue.
She reached over and touched my forearm. “You’re not now.”
I glanced down at her hand, then back at her. “No. I’m not.”
“Then I’ll take me being worried over you being unhappy.”
That got to me more than I wanted it to.
Dad gave a short nod. “And I’ll take worried if it means you’re actually building something and not just pretending this is a plan.”
“It is a plan.”
“I know.” He sat back again. “Risky as hell, but at least it’s a real one.”
I let out a breath and picked up my fork again. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve said about it.”
Mom smiled wider. “It definitely is.”
Dad pointed at both of us. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“Too late,” I replied.
He smirked. “Then eat your pasta.”
I did, and dinner became easier after that. Mom asked more about the trip and my job hunt, though I still hadn't found a position I’d consider doing. By the time I finished eating, I felt a lot better than when I’d walked in.
One Month Later
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
You coming?
A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it and I typed back:
Give me a minute
Keaton answered right away:
You’ve got thirty seconds before I come drag your ass in here myself
I laughed under my breath, tossed my phone on the bed, and ran a towel over my hair one more time before dropping it into the laundry basket in the corner.
I was already shirtless from my shower and wearing only sweatpants, so there wasn’t much point changing if I was going to end up in Keaton’s room anyway.
I cut through the bathroom to where he was waiting.
He was lying on his bed in black sweats, one arm behind his head, phone in his hand. His mouth curved the second I walked in. “Took you long enough.”
“It’s been maybe twenty seconds.”
He held a hand out. “Come here.”
I stepped closer, and he caught my wrist and pulled me down until I was half on top of him, with one hand braced on the mattress next to his shoulder.
“Better,” he murmured.
I laughed. “You text me from one room away now?”
“You came.”
“That wasn’t my point.”
His mouth curled up. “It was a little the point.”
I rolled my eyes, but he was already sliding his hand up my side, and it was hard to take his mouth seriously when he was touching me like that.
For the past month and a half we’d been doing our thing behind our bedroom doors. While they saw us getting along at the gym and at home, the guys didn’t know we were secretly together. I wasn’t sure when Keaton wanted to tell them, but I’d be ready when he was.
Most nights, it was the same. We trained, he went to work, then we ended up in his bed. Our schedules didn’t leave much room for anything else.