Page 92 of Heal Me, Love Me

This time, I gave ground until Dante thought he had me moving where he wanted. When he stepped in to close the distance, I jabbed, changed levels, and cut hard to his outsidebefore he could square up again. My shoulder hit his hip, and I secured my grip as he tried to turn out of it. For half a second, the entry was mine. Then Dante sprawled, dropping his weight into me and killing the shot. My knees hit the mat, but I kept my head tight to his side and held the grip instead of bailing out.

“Better,” Coach Isaac called.

“Because I stayed on it?”

“Because you didn’t give him your back.”

Dante pushed off me and retreated a step, breathing hard enough to prove I’d at least made him work. “That was harder to stop.”

Coach Isaac took a sip of his coffee before turning his attention back to me. “Good. Make Dante work every time.”

Sitting back on my heels, lungs burning, I smiled before I could stop myself. My shoulders ached from the round, and my forearms felt shot from fighting Dante’s grips, but I’d made him work.

Keaton would’ve loved that. He would’ve given me shit first, probably something about not letting my head get too big over one decent attempt on Dante, before asking for every detail and pretending he only wanted the information so he could make fun of me.

In my head, I could almost hear him.

And once I remembered he wasn’t there, the moment didn’t feel as good anymore.

I could text him later. Tell him I’d gotten closer to taking Dante down, that Coach Isaac had said I hadn’t given Dante my back, and that I’d made Dante work to stop me. Keaton would probably say the right thing and maybe even make the long distance feel easy for a minute. But later wasn’t the same as now. It wasn’t the same as having him across the mat, seeing it for himself.

“Don’t sit there looking so proud,” Dante warned. “You didn’t finish it.”

“Didn’t get finished either.”

He pointed at me with a black glove wrapped around his knuckles and a smirk on his face. “That mouth gets worse every week.”

Coach Isaac made a sound from behind his coffee. “Less talking. Run it again.”

I pushed to my feet. “Yes, sir.”

Dante raised his guard. “Come on.”

We ran the sequence a few more times before Coach Isaac finally called time. By then, my legs felt heavy, my shirt clung to my skin, and even resetting my stance took more effort than it should have. A couple of guys on the far mat worked on cage pressure as the sharp slap of pads echoed through the gym, blending with the scrape of feet on canvas and the low thud of bodies hitting the mats.

Coach Isaac stepped in front of me and tipped his chin toward the cage. “You’re starting to connect the punch to the entry instead of reaching for it.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “I felt it that time.”

“Good. Remember that feeling. Your hands sometimes arrive before your hips, and that’s when you get stuck. If you’re going, commit. Don’t reach and hope he gives it to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked past me. “Dante, go with Eli. Rowan, grab water, then I want you inside the cage with Reid.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dante passed me on his way across the mat, tapping his glove against my shoulder. “Good work.”

“Thanks.”

I went to grab my water bottle from the edge of the mat, and my phone lit up beside it.

Keaton

Still at the gym?

Yeah grabbing water before Coach Isaac puts me in the cage with Reid