I held Eddie’s door open while Rowan ducked inside and grabbed napkins from the kitchen. “Have you guys talked about it?”

My gut churned. “Yeah, we have. I know the deal. We’re good.”

All of that was true. I knew the deal. Things between us were good. My late-night fear was that I’d misread everything—Tabitha didn’t care about me the way I cared about her. And packing up and leaving in two days wasn’t an issue because she did it all the time.

Rowan returned with napkins but eyed me curiously. “I’m sure you two will figure it out.”

I heard the question in his tone but didn’t know how to answer.

“Yeah, we will.”

He nodded once but didn’t say anything else. Again, his caginess had me wary.

We reached the edge of the lot, and he stopped me. “So I finally got to talk to my director yesterday about bringing you on board at the center. She’s very interested.”

“In hiring an ex-boxer who barely finished high school?” I asked.

A clever smile slid up his face. “She hired an injured baseball player who also barely finished high school. And you and I know finishing—or not finishing—has nothin’ to do with whether you can work a good job. The center hires folks from the neighborhood. Always. Long as you don’t, you know, move to Vegas, then she thinks you’re a perfect fit.”

Nerves twisted in the pit of my stomach. I still couldn’t tell if they were real or just fear-based, like everything else. Speaking into that camera about childhood memories and my hopes for a park had made the Vegas option seem like the cold, impersonal choice.

“I am interested,” I said. “But Harry’s still calling every day and giving me the tough sell. It’s confusing. Even though I tried to watch a match the other day and I couldn’t get through it. So I don’t know why I’m dragging my feet.”

Rowan frowned. “It’s his job to make you feel like boxing is the only thing you’ll ever be able to do. He makes money off you, and he’s gonna make money off this deal if it goes through. I’d be saying this even if I didn’t want you to come help me out. I’ve had my own skeevy agents too, dude. They’re paid to talk you into shit.”

I exhaled through my nose. Pressed my lips together. “Maybe I need to stop taking his damn calls for a few days. And come spend some time with you at the center.”

Rowan shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea. I’ve got plenty of work you can help me with. But I don’t want to be the Harry of South Philly. You gotta decide on your own.”

I resisted staring at Tabitha’s door as we walked past it. I appreciated Rowan’s faith in me. And Tabitha’s own confidence that the rec center was where I belonged.

They weren’t the problem. It was me.