Page 3 of Heal Me, Love Me

A flicker of annoyance hit me. “Where to?”

“He said he was coming back here,” Mason replied.

The irritation faded a bit, replaced by a twinge of worry. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I saw him go out the back entrance with his bag,” Enzo added.

He’d fought and won, and maybe he’d wanted to beat the crowds back to the hotel, so he left early. Still, that seemed unlikely.

I pulled out my phone and sent him a quick text:

Where are you?

Devon straightened, all business again. “All right, everybody, listen up.”

The guys turned toward him.

“We’re going out for dinner and drinks.” He pointed at us all with a sweeping gesture. “Titan had a good night. Keaton, Rowan, and Enzo all won, and we should celebrate.”

“I love it when you spend money on us.” Mason beamed.

“That doesn’t mean you get to order the whole damn menu.”

“Wow,” Mason said. “Way to ruin the speech.”

Devon ignored him. “Let’s go back to the hotel, shower, and meet in the lobby in an hour.”

The guys moved toward the hallway, while I went to change and down the protein shake Devon had given me. After I was dressed, I met up with the group, and we headed toward the exit. I checked my phone and saw no reply from Rowan.

We loaded into the passenger van Devon had arranged for the team and headed for the hotel. I tried not to look at my phone every thirty seconds during the drive, but I failed. By the time we pulled up to the hotel, I’d checked it at least six times.

Nothing.

Inside, the lobby was packed with a mix of event attendees and tourists who looked mildly alarmed by the number of bruised men entering the building. We made our way to the elevators, and once on our floor, I lingered while the others headed to their rooms before walking down the hallway toward Rowan’s room. We’d wanted to share, but we knew that would draw too much attention from the other guys. Plus, having separate rooms allowed us to stay focused on the reason we were there, rather than getting distracted by each other.

I knocked, then waited a moment before knocking harder.

A knot began forming in my chest when he didn’t answer. Maybe he’d gone out. Maybe he had earbuds in. Maybe?—

I texted him again:

You good?

My phone indicated the message had been delivered immediately, but Rowan still didn’t respond. After another minute of waiting, I decided to call.

It rang until voicemail picked up.

I disconnected the call and stared at the door.

This was ridiculous.

He was fine.

He had to be.

I rubbed a hand over my jaw and made my way back to my room to change for dinner, telling myself I absolutely wasn’t going to let my brain run wild.

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed and no less on edge.