Chapter 10
Rowan
My phone buzzed against the kitchen table before I finished breakfast.
Mom looked up from her coffee. “That yours?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at the screen, expecting a text from Keaton.
It wasn’t.
Devon
Grant Bishop called me
I’d wondered if this was coming.
Marcos had gone through Devon when he reached out about Keaton in LA, so I figured it was a matter of time before Grant contacted him too.
It made sense. Agents checked with coaches.
They asked questions, looked for red flags, and made sure the fighter they were about to invest in wasn’t just impressive on a highlight reel but also had real discipline.
Still, knowing it made sense didn’t make seeing Devon’s name on my screen any less annoying.
Another message came through:
He asked about your training situation
Then another:
You available to talk?
I stared at the phone long enough for Mom to ask, “Is everything okay?”
I pushed my plate away. “It’s Devon.”
Across the table, my father looked up. “What does he want?”
“Grant Bishop called him.”
My mother’s brows pulled together. “About you?”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath. “My training and work ethic.”
Dad watched me for a second. “And you haven’t told Devon you’re not coming back?”
“Not yet.”
“Rowan,” my father said sternly.
“I know,” I sighed.
Mom set her fork down. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because he shouldn’t have to hear that from Grant Bishop.”
“I know that too.”
My father held my gaze. “You need to tell him sooner rather than later.”
“I will.” I picked up my phone, then paused.
My mother’s voice softened. “Ro, I know you don’t want to see him, but this isn’t about what he deserves from you. It’s about who you want to be when you leave.”
My father nodded, the way he did when Mom had already made her point and he only needed to back her up. “You don’t have to stay somewhere that doesn’t work for you. But you do have to walk out clean.”
I stared at Devon’s message again. He was the last person I wanted to owe anything to, but that didn’t change the fact that I did.
He’d given me a place to train, a room to sleep in, and a fight when I needed one.
That didn’t erase what he’d done with Keaton, but it made things more complicated than telling him to go fuck himself and blocking his number.
Before I could talk myself into being immature and not responding, I typed back:
I’ll come by Titan this morning
He answered almost immediately:
Works for me
My phone buzzed again:
Keaton
Morning. Am I going to see you today?
Morning baby. Yeah I’m talking to Devon later
I stood and took my plate to the sink. “I’m going to change.”
“Ro,” Dad called before I left the kitchen.
I turned to find him leaning one hip against the counter, arms folded. “Don’t let Devon pull you into something you didn’t go there for.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Keaton texted back:
Why?
I typed out my reply as I headed to my room:
Grant called him
Shit
Yeah
Want me there?
I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in both hands.
I did want him there. Too much. I wanted him beside me when I walked into Devon’s office, wanted the reminder that whatever Devon thought he knew, Keaton was mine because he chose me.
But that wasn’t fair to Keaton. He still trained there, still had to walk into that gym when I wasn’t around, and still had a career Devon could affect, even if neither of us wanted to admit how complicated that made everything.
No. I need to do this myself
Okay
Then another message from him came through:
I’m already heading in. Coach Luis wants me to come in for movement work before class
Cool. I’ll see you there
Don’t do anything stupid
I grinned and typed back:
Define stupid
Anything involving your fist and Devon’s face
I survived the Air Force without telling half my superiors to go fuck themselves. I can handle Devon
All right. See you soon
The ride to Titan gave me too much time to think about what I wanted to say.
I wasn’t coming back. I appreciated the opportunity. I’d tell Devon straight, thank him for the shot, and get out before this became more personal than it already was.
It sounded easy.
The rest of the situation wasn’t. There was Devon’s mouth on Keaton’s, the fact that they had history, and the knowledge that Keaton would still be at Titan after I walked away. Part of me wanted to warn Devon what would happen if he put his mouth on Keaton again.
But Keaton didn’t need me to fight that battle for him. He’d already proven he could handle himself with Ridgway.
When I rode into Titan’s parking lot, Dad’s words had become a command in my head.
Say it, then leave.
I parked near the back and stared at the building for a moment.
For a while, Titan had been the answer to the life I wanted outside of the Air Force. When I’d walked through those doors, I hadn’t known Keaton would be there too, or that Titan would give me a fight, a direction, and a second chance with the man I’d been too scared to claim years earlier.
Now I couldn’t walk inside without remembering every reason I had to leave.
I killed the engine, removed my helmet, and headed in.
The gym was active but not packed, caught between the end of the morning classes and people training on their lunch breaks.
A few guys sat near the benches, wrapping their hands, while others stretched on the edge of the mat.
Near the cage, Derek worked through light bag drills, and Enzo stood nearby, talking with one of the newer fighters.
Then I saw Keaton.
He was with a small group on the far mat, doing movement work with Coach Luis. Nothing flashy, just hip mobility, footwork, level changes, and slow entries, the boring stuff fighters did because Coach Luis cared more about clean mechanics than looking impressive.
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.”
“Because of Grant Bishop?”
“Not exactly.”
“Because he wants you in Florida?”
“He suggested it,” I answered. “I might take the visit.”
“That doesn’t explain why you can’t train here until you decide.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Then explain it because I’m not understanding.”
I took a breath, reminding myself to stay calm. Devon had no clue about me and Keaton, so while I was angry at him, I couldn’t blame him for something he didn’t know. What I could blame him for was assuming Keaton was still interested. “There’s personal reasons.”
“Personal reasons?” he repeated.
“Yeah.”
“That’s vague as hell.”
“I know.”
“And that’s all you’re giving me?”
“For now.”
He looked at me for a long moment, probably deciding whether to press harder. “You’re usually more straightforward than this.”
I almost told him he hadn’t known me long enough to make that call, but I didn’t. “I came here because I wanted you to hear it from me, not Grant or anyone else.”
“That doesn’t make this make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense to you.”
His stare sharpened. “It does if I just vouched for you to an agent.”
He had a point. Since he’d just vouched for me, I owed him some explanation, even if I didn’t owe him all of it. I glanced over my shoulder toward the gym. Keaton stood near the water station with a towel around his neck, listening to Mason. He wasn’t smiling, but he was watching me.
I turned away before Devon could follow my attention, but it was too late. When I faced him again, something in his expression had hardened.
“This is about Keaton,” he alleged.
I didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
Devon’s mouth pressed into a flat line. “I thought you two got past your shit?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s usually what people say when they don’t want to explain themselves.”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying it.”
He glanced again toward the gym floor. “So you’re leaving because of him?”
“Yes and no.” I rocked back on my heels. “I’m not blaming him, but staying here no longer works for me.”
“Because he trains here?”
“Because every time I walk in, there’s too much shit in the way.”
“That sounds like something you should deal with rather than run from.”
I huffed. “I’m dealing with it by not turning every training session into something personal.”
“Does Keaton know you’re leaving because of him?”
“Yes.” And because of you.
“And he’s good with it?”
No. “That’s between me and him.”
“Apparently, everything’s between you and him.”
“Pretty much.”
For a moment, Devon looked like he wanted to push again, but he didn’t.
I was ready to be done before the conversation went somewhere I didn’t want it to go. “I’m also not moving back into the house. If there’s anything I need to handle, send it over.”
“You already moved your stuff out?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
He balked. “That fast?”
I nodded. “That fast.”
“Fine,” he replied. “Since you’re month-to-month and paid up for the rest of the month, you’re good.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Devon wasn’t the villain in every part of this.
It would’ve been easier if he were. He’d crossed lines with Keaton, and their history made staying at Titan impossible for me, but the gym had still been good to me.
Devon had been good to me in ways that mattered too, which made the next part harder to say.
“Also, thank you for giving me a place to train when I needed one, for the spare room, and for putting me on that card in LA. I know you didn’t have to do any of that.”
“I don’t do charity.”
“I know. That’s why I’m thanking you.”
For a moment, he looked as if he might say something else.
Instead, he held out his hand, and I stared at it before taking it.
Shaking his hand didn’t mean I wanted to stay, nor did it mean I trusted anything tied to this place anymore.
It meant I could leave his office without making anyone clean up after me.
“Thank you for giving me a shot,” I said to him.
“Good luck with Grant.”
“Thanks.” I spun to leave.
“And Rowan?”
I stopped at the doorway.
“If you’re serious about Florida, don’t let this place make the decision for you.”
I turned back. “What does that mean?”
“It means go there because it’s the right move, not because you’re pissed off at everything you’re leaving behind.” His gaze flicked briefly to the gym floor. “Go see the room. Train with them. Let it be about fighting, not whatever else is going on.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”