Chapter 8
BOONE
Ipace up and down the cage, staring past the referee at my opponent, ignoring the screaming crowd and the anger pumping like hot lava through my body.
This is rage like I’ve never felt before a fight. A lit fuse fizzling deep into the unhinged, primal chaos of my body. Every muscle is tight and tense. If I looked to my left—which I don’t—I would see Lila in the crowd, gorgeous in her new red dress, the fabric clinging to her perfect curves.
I would see her hair falling gorgeously to her shoulders and the flush of her cheeks and the support whelming in her eyes.
But I don’t look. I focus on my opponent, a man in his mid-twenties with a hipster mustache who also makes TikToks alongside his fighting career. He’s ended every one of his twenty fights via KO. And he’s only had twenty fights.
As the fight draws nearer, I become more certain. I’m going to seriously hurt this bastard. He made a mistake. A bad one.
The past few days have been heaven, me and Lila spending every second I’m not training together. I hold her in my arms at night, when we’re both sweaty and aching after sex, and we talk about everything. The past, the future, the ease of simply existing together in the present.
My opponent saw a photo some pap had snapped in a restaurant.
He made a comment about Lila.
“If she gets bored of the old man, I’ll give her some young meat.”
The twenty-and-zero undefeated fighter plays with his mustache then flips me the bird, a cocky smirk on his face. The crowd enjoys it. I let them laugh and cheer.
The referee asks me if I’m ready.
“Fight!”
He dances across to me, light on his feet, thinking there’s going to be an adjustment period, a chance for him to do something. But I can’t stop hearing what he said. Nobody talks about my woman like that. Nobody even gets to fucking imply they would touch her. Ever.
I duck to one side, feint with a jab, then throw everything I have into a wild, powerful overhand right. It’s a risk. He could slide out of range, cut an angle, find my jaw.
But I refuse to lose when he crossed a line no man gets to cross, ever. Disrespecting my woman.
My fist connects, and sounds like a gunshot.
He flies back against the cage, his eyes rolling in his head as he slides down the cage. He looks up without seeing me, showing me the whites in his eyes, his body twitching.
The referee flies between us, waving his hands in the air, as the arena goes insane, people on their feet, beer flying in the air, the commentators struggling to be heard as they yell over the chaos.
I leap the cage with ease, walking through the crowd, a shirtless savage amidst these civilized people. Lila rushes to me, her chest rising and falling, a flush creeping over her neck and face. Red and young and perfect and mine.
“Boone.” She claws onto arms. “That was …”
“For you,” I snarl. “For you, my sweet Snapshot.”
“I love you,” she gasps, throwing her arms around me. “Oh, God. I love you. I don’t care how quickly it happened. I don’t care what people might say. I love you.”
“I love you too, Snapshot. And let people talk. I think our love means more because it hit us hard and fast.”
“That’s so romantic,” she murmurs, her voice breaking.
“See?” I smirk. “I’m not a complete savage.”
Her laugh turns into a contented moan when I push my lips against hers. She slides her hand over my back, sinking deeper into the kiss, into the spell of us, as forty thousand people cheer and clap like their lives depended on it.
“What are you doing?” she murmurs when I step away.
I look around until I spot him. Evan. He nods and rushes over, handing me a small package.
“What’s that?” my angel asks.
“It’s full of things I never believed in before,” I tell her passionately. “Destiny, love at first sight, bone-deep belonging. It’s full of the future, Lila. I don’t want you to be scared. I want you to trust your … “Soul.”
She blinks, tears in her eyes. “Boone.”
I take out a ring box from the package. Suddenly, the arena goes quiet. I don’t have to look up to know they’re showing us on the big screen.
“Lila, you’re everything to me,” I tell her. “The weeks we spent apart were agony. I love you—and I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. You hit me like a lightning strike. Like, for the first time, I might be able to hope. Lila, I love you. Lila …”
“Boone.” She sobs, touching my cheek as if checking for tears. I’m close.
“Lila Mayfield.”
I lower myself to one knee, causing her to gasp and cover her mouth with her hands. The arena draws in a collective breath.
I open the ring box, showing a full diamond set within a white-gold band. The diamond has small cameras carved each side of it, elegant and tasteful.
“Will you marry me?”
For a beat, I think she might say no. She stares at me with manic eyes, wide, electrified with our closeness, with the wild ride we’re on.
Finally, she puts me out of my misery. “Yes!” she yells. “Oh my God, yes!”
I slide the ring onto her finger, leap to my feet, and pull her into my arms.
The arena erupts; everybody cheers and stares at kiss-cam on the huge screens as I hug and kiss the love of my life. Well aware … I’m the luckiest man alive.