“I loved you then too,” I admitted. “That’s part of why it’s so hard. You weren’t just some random guy I hooked up with at a party and panicked over when we got caught. You wereyou. You were my best friend. You were the person I wanted before I even knew how to say any of it out loud, and when it mattered most, I failed you.”
“You loved methen?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I didn’t hesitate.
He stared at me for a second. “And you still did that.”
“I know. I fucked up. And believe me, I’ve hated myself for it. Because I knew what you meant to me, and I still chose fear over you.” I kept going before I could back out of it. “When I left for basic, I kept telling myself that distance would fix it. That being away from Sacramento, away from you, away from all of it, would help me get over you.” I shook my head. “It didn’t.”
“No?”
“Not even close, and I tried to move on. I really did. I tried to get over you. I tried to be interested in other people. I kept telling myself that whatever we’d had was just high school stuff—buried and gone.”
“And?”
“And no one ever compared to you.” I held his stare. “No one.”
His throat moved. “Rowan.”
“I mean it. I tried to talk myself into wanting somebody else, into pretending it felt close enough, but it never did. Nobody felt right. Nobody stayed with me the way you had. Nobody made me want more than a few minutes because they weren’t you.”
He kept staring at me, and I could see him trying not to show how much my words affected him.
I let out a breath. “I’m not saying that just because we had sex. I’m telling you because it’s the truth, and it’s been the truth this whole damn time.”
“So what, you just spent four-plus years hung up on me?”
“Basically.”
His doubt was evident in this short burst of laughter. “That’s messed up.”
“I know.”
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
He searched my face. “You really tried to move on?”
“Yes.”
“How hard?”
“Hard enough to know I couldn’t do it,” I answered. “Hard enough to realize I was comparing everyone to you without meaning to. Hard enough to understand I was still carrying you around when I had no right to.”
His mouth parted a little, then closed again.
“I didn’t come back to Sacramento looking for you,” I continued. “I need to be honest about that too. I came back because I want to fight. I want to train at Titan. I want to succeed in MMA for real instead of just talking about it like something I’d do someday.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I didn’t know you’d be there. I didn’t know I’d walk into that gym and see you. I didn’t know Devon would stick us in the same fucking house.”
A small breath escaped him, almost a laugh, but not quite.
“But I’m glad he did,” I admitted.
His eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m glad I got the opportunity to deal with all of this instead of spending the rest of my life pretending I could bury it.”
“You’re glad?” he asked.
