Page 108 of Heal Me, Love Me

But it wasn’t anyone else.

It was Keaton.

And some part of me kept getting stuck on the same thing: he could come for a few days if he wanted to. He could see my room, he could meet the guys I lived with, the ones I trained with, the ones who’d become part of my days without him. He could watch Coach Isaac pick apart my footwork and see what Atlantic Combat looked like now that it was my life and not just a place we’d visited. Instead, he was staying in Sacramento.

Again.

I hated myself for thinking of it that way. This wasn’t the same as when I’d left for Tampa, and he’d stayed behind at Titan. He wasn’t choosing the gym over me, nor was he pretending I didn’t matter. He was physically hurt, and recovery and PT mattered—I knew that—but I still wanted him to want me badly enough to find a way to come.

By the time we reached my parents’ house, I’d talked more about Florida than I had on any call since I’d left. I carried my bags to my room, left them near the bed, then headed back to the kitchen, where Mom was working near the oven, and Keaton stood near the island. “Need help?”

Mom looked over her shoulder. “No, sweetheart. Go sit for a bit.”

I stayed there for another second, but she was already turning back to the stove, so I let it go.

Dad came into the kitchen and nodded toward the living room. “Come on. The episode ofFriendsis on where Joey gets his head stuck in a turkey.”

I’d seen enough reruns with my parents to know exactly which one he meant, and it sounded better than standing in the kitchen pretending I knew what to do with myself. I followed Dad into the living room, and Keaton came with me, taking the end of the couch with his injured shoulder on the outside. I sat beside him, close enough that his good hand found mine almost immediately.

Joey already had the turkey on his head when my dad settled into his chair, the remote lying on the armrest. The laugh track filled the living room, blending with the sound of my mother opening drawers and setting pans on the stove in the kitchen.

It felt good to have Keaton with me, not hidden in my room or slipping out before anyone could ask questions, but sitting beside me with his hand in mine where everyone could see it.

After we ate,Keaton and I went outside for a little time alone. I didn’t notice his car parked on the street until he headed straight toward it.

I stopped. “Wait. You drove here?”

He glanced back. “Yeah.”

“With your arm in a sling?”

His keys were already in his good hand. “The car’s automatic.”

“Keaton.” I rolled my eyes.

“I was careful.”

“You drove one-handed.”

“Not the whole time.”

I held out my hand. “Give me the keys.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “I can drive. PT said it’s fine to take off my sling when I’m behind the wheel, as long as I wear it for everything else.”

“Okay, but you’re not driving tonight.”

For a moment, I thought he might argue because it was me asking. Then he dropped the keys into my palm. Once I unlocked and opened the passenger door, he climbed in without another word, and after I got behind the wheel, his good hand settled on my thigh.

During the drive to the river, Keaton filled me in on my old roommates. Mason had been acting like he wasn’t worried about Keaton’s shoulder, but still asked too many questions about PT. He’d apparently started driving Keaton around and kept reminding him that five-star service deserved tips. Derek had decided that one separated shoulder in high school made him more qualified than the doctor to give advice, and Enzo frequently sent Keaton videos of training fails and called them rehab entertainment.

It should’ve made me feel better to hear they were checking on him. Instead, it reminded me that his life in Sac hadn’t stopped just because mine had moved to Tampa.

When I pulled into the small turnout off Garden Highway, no other headlights were in sight. I parked, shut off the engine, and the radio cut out, leaving the car quiet while neither of us spoke.

Moonlight spilled into the car as I stared through the windshield. “I keep thinking about you not coming to visit me in Tampa.”

He angled himself toward me. “Baby?—”