Chapter 28 #2
“You don’t have to like how they’ll sell it. You don’t have to trust Devon. Hell, you don’t even have to trust the promotion’s reason for wanting the fight. But none of that changes the offer in front of you.”
I looked away from him because I hated how calm he sounded, while I was reeling.
The better pay, the HydraRush deal, and almost three months to train should’ve felt like the perfect deal. Instead, all I could think about was standing across from Keaton in a cage, gloves on, cameras pointed at us, while everyone around us pretended it was just another fight.
“You’re asking me to ignore what this is?” I asked.
“No, I’m asking you to decide what matters most.”
My attention cut back to him. “That’s supposed to be better?”
“Yes. This is your career we’re talking about.”
“It’s Keaton.”
“I know.”
“No, you know we’re friends and used to train together. You don’t know why I can’t look at this as just another fight.”
“Then tell me what I’m missing, because when you two first came to Atlantic Combat, before you signed with me, I told you then that one day you might fight each other.”
“You’re in the same sport, close enough in size, with different managers seeking opportunities: fight slots, rankings, attention, matchups that can advance your careers. Maybe even one against each other someday if the divisions line up.”
For one stupid second, the words were right there: high school, the party, the four years I spent pretending I hated him because it was easier than admitting I still loved him.
Los Angeles, Miami, and every time I’d had him close enough to believe we might finally get it right.
But saying any of that meant admitting Keaton wasn’t just my friend; he was the man I loved, the man I’d lost twice, and the last person I wanted to treat like another career opportunity.
“I’m not explaining him to you.”
Grant accepted that with a small nod. “Then call him.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Call Keaton.”
“I’m sitting here telling you I’m not fighting him, and your solution is for me to call him?”
“My solution is for you to talk to the other person whose name is on the offer.”
“He might not even know yet.”
“Then he should hear it from you.”
“And if he does know?”
“Then you need to find out what he thinks before you make Devon the whole story.”
I looked down at the folder, even though I couldn’t see our names anymore. “You think he’s going to say yes?”
“I have no idea.”
“But you think he should.”
Grant didn’t dodge it. “Professionally? Yes.”
A bitter laugh left me. “Great.”
“Professionally, I think you should too.”
“You’re really going to sit there and tell me to fight him?”
“I’m going to sit here and tell you this is a good opportunity. I’m also going to tell you that if you can’t look across the cage at him and only see an opponent, you turn it down.”
“He’s not my opponent.”
“If you take the fight, he is.”
I snatched the folder before I could think too hard about it. “I need a minute.”
Grant nodded. “Take one.”
I walked out of his office and out to the parking lot.
For a second, all I could think about was how many miles I’d put between Sacramento and Tampa, only to end up right back where I’d started, emotionally.
I still wanted Keaton. I still didn’t know how to want him without everything else getting in the way.
So, I pulled out my phone.
Keaton’s name was still in my contacts, right where it had been for years, even though I hadn’t spoken to him in half a year. I’d done what I kept telling myself I needed to do and left him alone, even though every part of me wanted one more excuse not to.
My thumb hovered over his name. Then I thought about him sitting somewhere in Sacramento, maybe already looking at the same offer, maybe already finding a way to make peace with it.
That was enough to make me hit call. He answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey.”
Hearing his voice after so long pulled every thought out of me, but I recovered quickly. “Have you seen it?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? How long ago?”
“About an hour.”
“Did you think about calling me?”
“I didn’t know if I should.”
“Neither did I.”
“Rowan …”
“Are you going to sign?”
“I don’t know yet.”
My grip tightened around the phone. “That’s not a no.”
“No, it’s not.”
The honesty pissed me off more than a lie would have. “So you’re really considering fighting me?”
“Why not?” he asked. “You scared of losing?”
I couldn’t tell whether he’d said that to piss me off or to make this easier for himself, but he’d definitely managed the first. “Don’t do that,” I sighed.
“Do what?”
“Turn this into talking shit because you don’t want to answer me.”
Keaton exhaled. “I answered you.”
“No, you tried to make it sound like any other fight.”
“Maybe that’s what it has to be.”
“It’s not.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes!” he snapped. “I know it’s you.”
“Then why are we still talking about this?”
“Because it’s a good offer.”
I stared across the parking lot, heat rising off the pavement as those words worked their way through me. “A good offer. Really?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m choosing it because I don’t care who’s on the other side.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“But you’re not saying no.”
“Not yet.”
I looked toward Apex’s tinted windows, trying to hold on to my anger because the hurt beneath it was worse. “Who walked you through it?”
“Marcos sent it over, and Devon went through the fight details with me after.”
Of course he fucking did.
I dragged a hand over my face. “Devon.”
“What?”
“He asked me in Vegas if I was still fighting at middleweight.”
“You were in Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“At my fight?”
“Yes. I came to watch you fight, and when I was leaving, Devon stopped me. He didn’t ask how Florida was going or about Atlantic Combat. He asked about my weight.”
“And you just left after?”
“We’d broken up.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me you were there.”
“I wasn’t there for anyone to notice me.”
“But Devon did.”
“Unfortunately.”
“And you still didn’t come find me?”
I dragged a hand over my face. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You broke up with me.”