Chapter 32
Keaton
Before we left the arena, Marcos checked in with me and said he’d call me later after I had time to rest. Then we changed and headed out.
Rowan and I climbed into the back seat of an SUV while Coach Phil took the front seat with the discharge paperwork in one hand and a small cooler at his feet.
He handed Rowan and me each another bottle of HydraRush, then passed back yogurts and bananas with orders to get something in us.
I managed a few sips and half a banana while he reviewed the paperwork for what felt like the tenth time and glanced back every few minutes to ask how I was feeling.
The answers never changed: my head hurt, the lights outside were too bright, and I was tired. But every time I looked over and saw Rowan beside me, the pain and fatigue were replaced by happiness that he cared enough to stay with me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket again. Derek and Mason had both been texting since we left the arena, but I was trying to follow the doctor’s instructions about avoiding screens. I pulled it out anyway.
Rowan gave me a look. “What are you doing?”
“Checking my phone.”
“You have a concussion.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
I sighed but handed it over.
He glanced at the screen, then began typing. “Mason and Derek want to come by your room, but I’m telling them no visitors tonight.”
I knew their flight back to Sacramento was scheduled for early the next morning, and while I was grateful they’d made the trip to Austin, I didn’t think I’d be up for hanging out before they left. “Tell them thanks for checking in, and I’ll catch up with them back home.”
Neither of us said much the rest of the drive.
My brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that I’d spent the evening being knocked unconscious and then maybe getting back together with my ex-boyfriend, who was also the person who’d knocked me out.
Rowan sat beside me, his leg pressed against mine, and every now and then, I caught him looking over like he was having the same trouble believing this moment was real.
Once we reached the hotel, I was so exhausted that walking through the lobby felt like more effort than fighting three rounds.
“You okay?” Rowan asked for what had to be the twentieth time.
I glanced at him. “No.”
His brows pulled together, and I saw Coach Phil peek at me from the corner of his eye.
I sighed. “Sorry, I just need some rest.”
They both nodded, and we headed for the elevator. When we reached my floor, I wanted nothing more than a dark room and several hours of sleep. Thankfully, concussion protocol called for rest rather than someone staring at me all night to make sure I didn’t fall asleep.
Coach Phil opened the hotel room door and started repeating the doctor’s instructions.
I groaned. “I got it. Basically, I can’t do anything but hang out in here and chill.”
“Pretty much.” Coach Phil turned to Rowan. “And if his symptoms get worse, call me immediately.” He handed Rowan a business card. “No matter what time it is, I don’t want to find out hours after something happens.”
“I understand.” Rowan tucked the card into his pocket.
I was glad Coach Phil hadn’t argued with me or questioned why Rowan was there. He simply went along with it, knowing that’s who I wanted to stay with me.
Coach Phil looked at me one last time. “Tonight was rough. Right now, I don’t care about rankings or any of that other crap. I just need you to recover.”
I nodded, the motion making my stomach churn. “Okay.”
“Everything else will still be there in a few days. Get some sleep, and I’ll check on you in the morning,” he said, then walked out.
The door shut behind him, leaving Rowan and me alone for the first time in what felt like forever. I stared at the king-sized bed, then at Rowan, lifting a brow.
He smirked. “Don’t.”
Despite the headache, I felt myself smiling. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to, but rest means rest.”
“Such a buzzkill,” I teased, knowing there was no way I’d be up for anything more than sleeping anyway.
“I’m supposed to make sure you follow the rules.”
“Fine.” I kicked off my shoes.
His gaze drifted toward the bathroom. “You should probably take a shower before you pass out.”
I looked down at the clothes I’d thrown on after leaving medical. Between the sweat, tape residue, and everything else, a shower sounded amazing. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“Just keep the door unlocked.”
I stared at him.
“I’m serious. You might get dizzy and need help.”
The fact that he looked genuinely worried stopped me from teasing him. “Okay.”
He visibly relaxed, and I grabbed clean clothes from my suitcase and headed to the bathroom. The hot water washed away the sweat and soothed my sore muscles from the fight.
Unfortunately, it didn’t help much with the headache.
By the time I stepped back into the room ten minutes later, Rowan had transformed the nightstand into what looked like a makeshift medical station, complete with water bottles, pain medication, and the concussion paperwork. And on the small desk were two protein bowls.
“What’s all this?” I asked, running a towel over my hair.
He glanced up from where he sat on the edge of the bed. “Preparation.”
“For what?”
“In case you need something during the night.”
My eyes landed on the desk. “How did food get here so fast?”
“Coach Isaac sent it over.” He lifted a shoulder. “He knew we both needed to eat something.”
I opened the container filled with grilled chicken, rice, roasted sweet potatoes, and an apple. It wasn’t the most exciting meal, but it was exactly what I expected a coach to send after a fight, and I managed to choke down most of it despite the nausea.
“That’s exactly what I needed,” I said, swallowing the last bite before getting up to throw away my trash.
Once I brushed my teeth, I climbed into bed. Lying on the soft mattress felt incredible, and I was sure I could pass out at any moment.
Rowan looked around the room. “Shit.”
“What?”
“My bag is in my room.”
“You should probably go get it.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Your room is at this hotel, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, on the twelfth floor.”
I settled deeper into the pillows. “Then I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay for however long it takes you to grab your stuff.”
He shook his head, but I caught the smile he tried to hide. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
The room went quiet after he left. I closed my eyes and listened to the hum of the air conditioner and the faint sounds from the hallway, but every time I started to drift, I’d startle awake again, waiting for the sound of him coming back.
When the door finally opened again, Rowan came in with his duffel bag. “Miss me?” he asked.
I snorted. “You were gone ten minutes.”
He looked down at his phone. “Eight minutes, actually.”
I rolled my eyes and quickly learned that was another thing that sent searing pain through my head. “Go shower so we can get some sleep.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I stayed where I was while the shower turned on. After nearly a year apart, hearing him moving around my hotel room made it feel like no time had passed.
When he came out, he turned off the lights and climbed into the bed. I rolled onto my side, and Rowan did the same, neither of us saying anything as he reached across the space between us and brushed his fingers against mine.
“Get some sleep, baby,” he said softly.
The word should’ve sounded odd after all this time, but instead it felt like coming home.
And with Rowan beside me, sleep came easily.
When I woke, it took a few seconds to figure out where I was. A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. Not as bad as the night before, but still bad enough that I regretted opening them. I groaned and rolled onto my back.
“Good. You’re awake.”
I blinked toward the voice. Coach Phil sat in the chair by the window, and confusion pushed through the headache. “Why are you here?”
“Nice to see you too.” He chuckled.
I glanced toward the other side of the bed and saw it was empty. “Where’s Rowan?”
“Media interviews.”
I dropped my head back against the pillow. “How long has he been gone?”
“About forty-five minutes. How are you feeling?”
I considered the question as I did a full body scan. “My head hurts.”
He got up to open the curtains. “Sort of expected that.”
I shielded my eyes. “The sun should be illegal.”
That earned a laugh. “At least your sense of humor still works. The doctor called this morning. He wants you to take it easy for at least seventy-two hours.”
I frowned. “Seventy-two?”
“You were unconscious, Keaton. He thinks you should probably stay here rather than travel home today.”
Honestly, the idea of an airport sounded miserable. Just thinking about the lights, the announcements, and the crowds made my headache worse. “So I’m stuck in Austin?”
“For a few days.”
Before I could fully wrap my mind around that, Rowan walked into the room, carrying two coffees and a paper bag. The moment his eyes met mine, his shoulders relaxed. “You’re awake.”
“Observant,” I teased.
Coach Phil stood. “I’m going to head out, but I’ll be around if you need anything.”
After he left, Rowan looked back at me. “Coffee or water?”
“Water, please.”
He handed me a bottle of water and a bagel he pulled from the bag.
I took a long drink, then settled back against the headboard. “How bad was the media?”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Not terrible.”
That answer immediately made me suspicious. “Meaning?”
He sat in the chair Coach Phil had vacated. “Meaning every reporter wanted to know why I lost my mind in the cage.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
I took another sip of water. “What’d you tell them?”
“The truth.”
I arched a brow and he smiled.
“Well, not all of it. I basically just reminded them that we’ve known each other for a long time, that we trained together, and that I didn’t like knocking out somebody I care about.”
I looked down at the water bottle in my hands. “Oh.”