Page 143 of Heal Me, Love Me

“Again,” he instructed.

I blew out a breath and reset my stance. “You know, most people say good morning before they push someone to their limits.”

His mouth twitched. “Oh, trust me, we’re nowhere near how far I plan to push you. Now, go again.”

I moved through the sequence one more time, throwing a jab, adjusting my weight, and following with the cross before changing levels the way he’d shown me. My shoulder handled the move without any issues, and though it still got tight if I didn’t stay on top of the mobility work, the constant fear that one wrong move would set me back was no longer hanging over my head.

“Better,” he said. Coming from him, that felt like the biggest compliment I could receive.

I dropped my hands and rolled my shoulders. “I’ll take it.”

“You should because that’s all I’m giving you.” He stepped closer and tapped two fingers against my lead shoulder. “You’re still loading too much before you throw because you don’t trust this yet.”

Okay, maybe the fear hadn’t completely faded.

“I trust it,” I argued, even though he was probably right.

He stared at me. “Really?”

I sighed. “Mostly.”

“Exactly. The mental aspect of this sport has a bigger impact than the physical side than most people realize. You’ve got to make sure your mind and body are aligned.”

I didn’t think he was just talking about my shoulder. The truth was, even though I’d thrown myself into my workouts, I still thought about that conversation with Rowan in his hotel room all the time, especially the part where he questioned whether I loved him enough. If loving him had been the problem, leaving would’ve been easy.

It hadn’t been easy, and time hadn’t helped either. I’d gone four years without Rowan once, yet somehow the past four months had been harder. Back when we were teenagers, I had anger to hide behind. I had betrayal, humiliation, and every uglymemory from high school stacked between us like an impossible wall to overcome. This time, I didn’t have any of that. Instead, I had a memory of him standing in front of me, tears in his eyes, asking me not to do the thing I was doing.

Every day, I questioned whether I’d made the right decision, but then I’d look at my life and remember why I’d broken up with him. That didn’t mean I felt good about my choice, but the reasons behind it were still valid.

The people closest to me understood. My roommates found out a few days after I got back from Miami. I hadn’t sat them down to announce it or anything dramatic like that, but Mason—being Mason—had called me out for acting strange and managed to pull it out of me while the four of us had dinner together. After that, there wasn’t much point in pretending.

Devon found out a few days later. He’d pulled me into his office before one of my training sessions and asked if there was anything he needed to worry about before my workload increased. I’d given him the abbreviated version of what happened in Florida, then assured him my head was where it needed to be.

He’d watched me for a few seconds longer than necessary, as if deciding whether to believe me or not. In the end, he nodded and started talking about my conditioning schedule. I appreciated that. I didn’t need him asking questions I didn’t want to answer, and I definitely didn’t need him thinking the breakup left room for anything else between him and me.

Coach Phil clapped once, pulling my attention back to the present. “Focus and go again.”

By the time he finally let me out of the cage, sweat had soaked through the back of my shirt, and my legs felt so heavy I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk to the benches. Somehow, I made it and reached for my water bottle as soon as I sat down.

Mason came over and sat down next to me. “You look rough.”

I gave him a side-eye.

“I mean that in an inspiring way,” he added.

I took a long drink of water before asking, “How so?”

He shrugged. “It’s just good to see you working so hard and kicking ass.”

“Thanks. Although most days I feel like I’m getting my ass kicked instead of the other way around.”

Before Mason could say something snarky, Coach Phil called out from the cage. “Keaton, don’t sit too long unless you want your hips locking up.”

I nodded and pushed myself to my feet. A year ago, I never would’ve believed a random fighter like me would get the opportunity to work with someone like Phil Reynolds. Now he was here at Titan, investing in me like I was worth the time.

My career was progressing. My body was holding up, and for the first time since my injury, I could see myself walking into a cage again and believing I belonged there. I wanted that feeling to fill the void I’d created when I walked away from Rowan. It didn’t. But I kept showing up anyway.

A few weeks later,I dragged my exhausted ass into my house, thankful that I had the night off from work and could actually get the rest my body desperately needed. Fight camp was quite literally hell on earth, but I was determined to show up in Las Vegas in the best shape of my life.