“You bitch! That was my favorite glass!” Dad yelled.
“Guess you’re done drinking tonight,” Mom shouted back.
Rowan finally spoke. “Do you want to stay?”
I blinked. “What?”
“For dinner,” he explained. “I have to ask my mom, but she’ll probably say yes.”
My first instinct was to say no because staying longer than usual would mean admitting I didn’t want to go home. I wasn’t a baby. I just didn’t like watching or hearing my parents fight.
More screaming filled the air, and I flinched before I could stop myself. Rowan must have noticed because he hopped off the bed.
“I’ll go ask.”
When he left the room, I stared out the window. I could see straight into my room, to the closet where I sometimes hid when things got too loud. To the posters of my favorite bands, the ones I liked to play loudly so I couldn’t hear my parents. And now my friend knew what happened over there, and I hated that he might not want to play anymore with the kid whose parents fought a lot.
A couple of minutes later, he came back with his mom.
“Hey, Keaton. Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked.
I nodded. “If that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.” She squeezed my shoulder softly. “You’re always welcome here.”
When another shout rang out, her gaze shifted toward the window. I held my breath, waiting for her reaction, but to my surprise, she didn’t say a word or ask questions. She simply stepped closer and rested her hand on my shoulder. “You can stay as long as you need.”
Rowan flopped back onto the bed beside me. “See? I told you she’d be fine with you staying.”
I gave him a small smile, and then we started another race.
5
Rowan
Present Day
A beat passedwhile I waited for Keaton to respond to my question about him still playing video games after all these years, but he didn’t. So, I gave Mason a small nod and headed to my room.
The room was pretty basic. A beat-up dresser and a narrow desk were shoved up against opposite walls, and under the window sat a cheap queen mattress on a simple frame. I still made the bed every day, and kept everything tidy and in its place—habits learned in the Air Force. While serving, I hadn’t needed much, since I’d lived in furnished dorms and never bought more than the essentials. I still didn’t need a lot, so the space would work until I found a job and got my own place.
While I wanted to become a pro fighter, I knew it would take time. I’d boxed in the Air Force, wrestled in high school, and had been practicing Brazilian jiu-jitsu since I was seven. Before TitanElite, I hadn’t trained in mixed martial arts like the pros did, but I wanted a sport that let me combine everything I already knew and see what I could really do with it. That’s why I hadn’t re-enlisted like my dad wanted. I did enough to show him I made an effort, then got out.
I shut the door and dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl on the desk, then set my wallet beside it, the way I always did, because if my stuff stayed in its place, my brain didn’t have to waste time looking for it when I needed it.
From the living room, Mason’s voice carried down the hall. He laughed, then groaned as if whatever was happening in the game they were playing personally offended him.
I didn’t hear Keaton.
That should’ve been a relief, yet it wasn’t.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at the wall long enough to feel the tension in my shoulders, then forced it down. I wasn’t here to spiral. And I sure as hell wasn’t here to relivethatnight every waking second. I was here to train, rebuild, and prove I could still do something with my life, even after I’d walked away from a stable career. The uniform was gone, so the discipline had to come from me.
A few moments later, a knock rapped on my door. I opened it to see Mason holding a pizza box in one hand and a beer in the other.
“You always dip out that fast?”
“I didn’t dip out. I went to my room.”
