Chapter 36 Boone
“Counsel, please step forward,” the judge’s commanding voice echoes through the courtroom.
Cain strides forward with his usual silent confidence, flanked by the opposing lawyer for the smug asshole who’s been trying to sue me over nothing.
Apparently, the cuts on his hands and throat from the fight he started, and the bottle he broke, are somehow my fault. At least, that's been his stance throughout the last three months of litigation during this case from hell.
It’s my final court appearance, and I can feel the weight of the past few months finally loosening its grip on me.
The promise of putting this mess behind me has excitement thrumming in my veins.
But it’s not just the idea of getting this all dropped that has me excited, it’s about what the future might look like for me and Rosie once we’re no longer pretending.
The judge exchanges a few quiet words with Cain and the other lawyer while I tug nervously at my tie. I fucking hate these things. Only wear them if coach tells me I need to during post-game interviews or press days. But today it feels more like a noose.
I watch them closely, desperate to glean something from their expressions, but Cain’s face is a masterclass in poker-faced indifference. I swear if I were Rhiannon, I’d never know if he were happy or sad.
When they finally turn around, my heart is in my throat.
“Ruling in favor of Mr. Tremblay,” the judge announces, his voice steady and firm.
“This case is dismissed based on the evidence that’s been presented to the courts.
Mr. Tremblay, I trust this serves as a reminder to avoid situations like this in the future.
You’re too important to the Mayhem’s season, and to your wife. Don’t mess up this second chance.”
I nod quickly, my voice steady. “Yes, sir.” She doesn’t need me but I sure as hell do.
The gavel comes down with a decisive bang, and I can’t help it, I’m grinning like a fool now.
Relief, joy, and triumph mix into one wild cocktail of emotions. I want to hug Cain. Hell, I want to kiss him. But I keep it together, at least until we step out onto the icy streets of New York City.
Then, like a madman, I punch the air in victory, my boots slipping slightly on the slick pavement which turns into me doing an impromptu boot skating session all over the walkway while I shake my ass and onlooker’s stare.
“I’m free!” I shout at no one in particular.
“Is that Boone Tremblay from the Mayhem?” I hear one of them whisper before pulling out their phone to snap a picture. I don’t even mind. I smile wide before they ask for an autograph that I give willingly.
Cain shakes his head when they walk away giggling, a smile tugging at his lips. “You remind me of my wife.”
I laugh. “Thanks, man. From what Rosie’s told me about Rhiannon; I’ll take that as the highest compliment you can offer me.”
“Things always seem to work out for her too despite how much trouble she gets herself into. But she’s constantly full of joy,” he replies flatly. But I can hear the fondness beneath his words.
“Walk with me,” he says abruptly, already striding down the street like a man on a mission.
Lucky for him, I’ve got nowhere else to be this afternoon. Rosie’s working late again based on the text she sent earlier, and we’ve got plans to celebrate tonight before the Prescott PR team pulls the plug on our marriage tomorrow evening with their staged breakup.
The thought makes my stomach churn, but I push it aside. Tonight, Rosie’s mine. Tonight, we’re still married. Tonight, she’s still my wife. And she knows what I have planned for the future now, too.
Cain doesn’t say much as we walk, but when he stops outside a tiny café—the kind with handmade pastries and freshly brewed coffee that Penn’s always raving about—I follow him in.
The scent of sugar and warm espresso hits me like a hug. Rosie would love this place. I wonder if there’s anything like this back in Brookhaven. I wonder if I could open one like this there.
I focus on Cain as he leads us to a table. A server takes our order—black coffee for him, hot chocolate for me—and then disappears. There are only a few other couples inside and thankfully, none of them recognize me because I’m squirming in my seat, excitement buzzing through my veins.
“How are you feeling?” Cain asks me, his voice even.
“Great. Giddy.”
He raises a brow. “I’ve never heard a grown man describe himself as giddy before.”
I smile and hold up my left hand to show him my ring finger. “Well, I’ve got a lot to be giddy about.”
He looks at the ring then back at me. The server returns with our drinks. I wrap my hands around the warm mug, letting the rich scent of chocolate distract me from the big night I have planned with Rosie.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Tomorrow’s the fight. Then the divorce paperwork gets filed on Monday.”
“Got it.”
Cain narrows his eyes, leaning back in his chair as if trying to decipher how I actually feel about signing the annulment papers to his sister. I meet his gaze head-on, a smile tugging at my lips.
“You seem awfully happy about how this is all playing out.” There’s suspicion in his tone.
“I’m usually a pretty happy guy when I’m not being sued, threatened or told what to do,” I reply smoothly, shrugging as I take a long sip of my hot chocolate. “Plus, what can I say? Your sister makes me happy.”
“But you’re not actually married to her. I mean, you are, but you won’t be after Monday.”
I shrug again, fighting back a smirk. “Sure, boss.”
His eyes narrow as he exhales a long, measured sigh. “What aren’t you telling me, Boone?”
I tilt my head and smirk. “Well, you don’t work for me anymore, right?”
Cain shakes his head, his expression still sharp.
“Technically, our PR team is coordinating your breakup this weekend, and our law firm will finalize the annulment on Monday. Beyond that, you’ll keep me on retainer until the Mayhem decide whether they want their sports law firm to represent you again. So yes, I still work for you.”
I shrug. “I think you already know what I’m not saying.”
Another sigh escapes him, this one heavier than the last. “She’s not your type.”
My brows lift at the accusation. “How would you know anything about my type?”
“Correction,” he says, leaning forward, his voice low and firm.
“Rosie is every guy’s type. She’s smart, kind, hardworking, driven, beautiful," he ticks the list off his fingers, and I know he could keep going. All those things do describe Rosie but she’s so much more.
She’s… it. "She’s my sister, yes, but it’s not just me who sees these things.
It’s obvious to anyone who knows her. And you, Boone? You’re not her type.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Doesn’t sound like she’s dated enough for you to make that call.”
Cain chuckles dryly, sitting back in his chair.
“Fair enough. Look, I like you and my wife seems to too, so I’m going to tell you this.
This is the happiest I’ve ever seen my little sister.
And, honestly, the most alive she’s ever been.
She’s got this glow about her now—a confidence outside the courtroom that matches the dominance she shows inside it.
I think she was searching for something like this.
Sure, not a marriage of convenience, but something that would help her find herself outside of work.
But…” He pauses, his eyes locking on mine and becoming more serious, “…there’s a reason my dad scared off every other boyfriend she’s ever had.
No man has ever been willing to fight for her. ”
I raise a brow. What the hell does that mean?
“Are you that guy? Honestly? Because now that I've defended you on this case, I know you’ve never started a fight before. That you’ve always been along for the ride.
The easy-going one in your group of friends who gets dragged, usually unwillingly, into trouble.
And that makes me wonder if you know how to finish a fight because my father, he will fight you on this.
He will fight you if you want to date Rosie. ”
I don’t hesitate before answering. Because this isn’t my lawyer talking anymore. This is Cain. The older brother of the woman I’m in love with. The man who’s spent his entire life protecting her.
And if he doubts my ability to defend his sister, to stand up for what we have, then I intend to prove him wrong.
I may be known as a pretty face in ice skates, but there’s more to me than that. Yes, maybe I haven’t always been the one starting fights. That’s because, by nature, I choose peace. I always have. But the truth is, I’ve never had anything worth fighting for.
Until now.
Rosie is worth fighting for.
“I’m not worried about your father’s opinion of me,” I say, my voice steady. “I’ll do anything for her. I’ll love her the way she deserves to be loved. I’ll protect her wishes, her career, her dreams. Whatever she wants, it’ll be hers. Without question, I will fight for her and what we have.”
Cain studies me for a beat, then nods. He picks up his coffee and takes a slow sip before a faint smile touches his lips.
“I believe you. But that belief is going to be tested next week when you sit down at a table with my dad who is going to hand you divorce papers. Just be ready. Like I said, I’m rooting for you, I really am, if this is what she wants too.
I just hope you’re prepared to go to battle for her in a way no other man ever has before. ”
I lean back in my chair and stare out at the ice-slick sidewalks below. In a city of millions, what were the chances that Rosie and I would collide in that dark club in Hoboken, after she gave me a lap dance of all things?
None. Zero. I know that and she knows it too.
And that’s exactly why I’m not afraid of what comes next. Rosie chose me. With her words. With her body. With the way she keeps showing up with tenderness, even when it’s complicated. And I’ve chosen her right back. If that means fighting for her with her dad, then I’ll do it without hesitation.
Cain’s phone buzzes on the tabletop. He checks it, then exhales. “I’ve gotta go. Good luck,” he says. “Tell my sister hello. I’m assuming you’re seeing her tonight.”
I nod and stand, extending my hand. “Thanks again. For everything. And for what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to being your brother-in-law for real someday.”
He studies my hand for a beat before taking it, his grip firm. Then he smiles. This time, there’s no skepticism in it and I can tell he’s being genuine.
“I look forward to that too, Boone.”
He lets go, turns, and walks out without another word, his boots echoing softly against the floor as the door closes behind him.
I sit back down, alone at the table now, a grin slowly spreading across my face. Because that right there was as close as I’ll ever get to Cain Prescott’s approval. And it’s enough.
Her father? Meh. I’m not worried about him.