Chapter 31 #2
He cut the tape and worked the gloves off, but before I could follow Keaton, another doctor stepped in front of me.
“Quick check first,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“Then this won’t take long.”
Coach Isaac’s hand landed between my shoulders. “Let him do what he needs to.”
I hated every second of it, but arguing would only keep me from Keaton longer.
The doctor checked my eyes, asked if I was dizzy, looked over my face, and gave me a quick nod. “You’re cleared.”
I climbed down from the cage, while the crowd pressed close to the barricades, yelling my name and reaching for me, trying to make the moment something I couldn’t give them. Security held them back, and Grant appeared at my side before anyone from the promotion could stop me.
“Post-fight interview,” a guy from the promotion called.
“No.”
“It’ll take two minutes.”
Grant stepped in. “Not now.”
“We need him.”
“I said not now!” Grant snapped.
I kept walking.
Keaton was ahead of us, moving slower than usual, one hand braced against Coach Phil even though the rest of him looked like he wanted to refuse the help.
I knew that look. He hated being helped, hated anything that made him appear weak, and hated this most of all because it happened in front of everyone.
The medical room was too bright and too small for all of us when we walked in. The doctor pointed toward the exam table, and Keaton sat, taking a careful breath. Coach Phil grabbed two bottles of HydraRush from the cooler near the door, cracked one open, and handed it to Keaton.
“Small sips,” the doctor instructed.
Keaton took the bottle, and Coach Phil handed the other one to me.
“Thank you.” I twisted off the cap even though my attention stayed on Keaton.
Coach Phil stood on one side of him while I stayed near the wall, giving the doctor room to work even though every part of me wanted to be closer.
The doctor glanced around. “I need the room.”
I didn’t move.
Keaton lifted his chin. “Rowan stays.”
The doctor sighed. “Fine, but stay out of my way.”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded.
The next few minutes dragged. Keaton and I both sipped on our post-fight recovery drinks while the doctor checked Keaton’s eyes again, asked more questions, tested his balance, and reviewed his symptoms. Keaton answered everything, but his attention kept drifting back to me.
Every time it happened, I had to remind myself not to move toward him.
After one last question, the doctor straightened. “You don’t need to go to the hospital right now, but that changes if your symptoms worsen. No media tonight, no alcohol, no driving, and try to stay off screens for a while. Someone needs to stay with you and watch for any changes.”
“I’ve got him,” I answered.
Keaton’s eyes moved to mine.
Coach Phil cleared his throat. “Marcos will want him with us.”
“I don’t care what Marcos wants,” I snapped.
Keaton cut in before Coach Phil could respond. “Rowan.”
I stopped, mostly because he sounded exhausted.
Coach Phil faced me directly. “I’m not saying you can’t stay with him. I’m saying his team needs to know what’s going on.”
“Then tell them,” I said.
Keaton rubbed his face with both hands. “Can everyone stop talking about me like I’m not here?”
I shut my mouth.
Coach Phil exhaled. “You’re right. Sorry.”
The doctor went over the instructions again while Coach Phil listened and I tried to memorize every word.
We were supposed to watch for vomiting, worsening headaches, confusion, trouble staying awake later, and changes in behavior, anything that meant this was more than a clean knockout with a shitty headache.
Keaton looked over at me. “Can I talk to Rowan alone for a second?”
Coach Phil hesitated for a beat. “You’ve got five minutes. We need to get you back to the hotel so you can rest.”
Once the door shut behind them, I crossed to Keaton, then stopped between his knees.
His gaze moved over my face. “You’re freaking out.”
“You were out cold.”
“I’m warm now.”
“That’s not funny.”
He reached for my hand. He was the one sitting there on concussion watch with a red mark along his jaw, and he still looked more worried about me than himself. He shouldn’t have been trying to make me feel better. “Ro.”
“I dropped next to you.” I forced the words out. “Coach Isaac had to pull me back.”
“I wish I remembered that.”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do because I would like to remember how you came for me.”
“You shouldn’t have needed me to.”
“It was a fight.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Because the second it landed, I knew you were out before you hit the mat.” I forced myself to hold his gaze as his fingers curled around mine. “For a few seconds, I thought I’d done something I couldn’t take back.”
He pulled in a breath. “You didn’t.”
“You don’t know what that felt like.”
“No,” he replied. “I don’t.”
I stared at our joined hands. “I don’t care about the win.”
“You should care eventually.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try to make this easy for me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” I brushed my thumb over his knuckles, then stopped because even that felt like too much. “You’re sitting here, hurt, and still trying to make sure I don’t feel bad about winning.”
“Because I know you.”
“Then know this.” I cupped his cheek with a hand.
“I don’t want to keep choosing my career, hoping we survive whatever it costs us.
” He didn’t answer right away, and for once, I was glad.
“I’m not saying I know what happens next.
I don’t know how we make California and Florida work.
I don’t know what Marcos or Grant will say.
But I know I’m done acting like losing you is part of the cost I’m willing to pay. ”
Keaton looked down, my hand falling from his face.
I waited.
When he finally lifted his face, his eyes were wet. “I don’t want to keep being the person who hurts you.”
“You’re not.”
“I have been.”
Nothing I could say would make that untrue. “Then we stop.”
His laugh was quiet and sad. “Just like that?”
“No. Probably not just like that. We’re pretty bad at this.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“But I love you.”
His eyes met mine. “Yeah, and I broke up with you.”
“I know.”
“And you still love me?”
I stared at him, at the bruising already spreading along his jaw, at the eyes I’d watched through windows, across gyms, across cages, and through every bad decision we’d made.
“I loved you before I knew what love was. I was ten years old, picking a bedroom because the window faced yours. I didn’t know why it mattered so much.
I just knew you were next door, and suddenly Sacramento didn’t feel like another place I’d have to leave. ”
His lips parted, but nothing came out.
“I loved you when you tapped on my window and climbed into my room as if it were yours too.
I loved you when we played Halo Wars instead of talking about whatever happened at your house.
I loved you when you sat with my parents at my jiu-jitsu tournament, and I won gold, and all I cared about was that you showed up.
“I loved you when I told you I wanted you in my future, and I loved you even after you stopped talking to me. I loved you when I left for the Air Force and saw you standing in your window, letting me go without a word.”
“Rowan.”
I continued. “After LA, even when I thought I’d lost you again, loving you didn’t go anywhere. It followed me into my parents’ living room when I finally told them about us, down to the river when I didn’t know what came next, and to the front door the night you showed up for our first real date.”
A tear slid down his cheek, but I kept going.
“When Grant wanted me in Florida, I hated the thought of leaving you, but I loved you for trying to give me room to take the opportunity. You saw what Atlantic Combat could mean for me before I could say it out loud, and you still tried to let me want it, even though I knew it hurt you.
“And I loved you when you broke up with me.” I held on to his hand. “I was pissed. I was hurt. I didn’t understand how you could walk away after everything we’d been through, but I still loved you.”
“Ro.”
“I loved you through every round I trained to fight you, even when all of it felt wrong. And tonight, across from me in that cage, no matter what anyone calls this, you were never just another fighter to me.”
He was crying now, and he didn’t try to hide it.