Page 174 of Heal Me, Love Me

“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, andtry 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.”