I want him.
All of him.
And now, I don't have to hold back.
When the final bell rings and Declan's fighter is declared the winner, I don't wait for applause or celebration.
I cross the floor like a woman possessed on my way to tell him everything.
But as soon as I get close to him, the fighter in the ring calls for me. I turn to him and can see right away he needs me.
I can tell Declan when we get home, where it's just the two of us, that there's a possibility we can have a family together after all.
32
DECLAN
The final bell rings and I'm happy with the evening. It's good to be back. Winning doesn't hurt either.
I catch Lyra coming up to me, and as soon as I turn to her, one of my fighters calls her into the ring.
She looks at me for a moment, frustration on her face, and then I watch as she ducks under the ropes and assesses my fighter.
We walk back to the medical office, and I just watch her work, doing what she does best. My fighter has a busted lip, a dislocated finger, and a sprained ankle.
I lean against the wall, and I catch her glancing at me as she stitches him up, pops his finger back in place, and wraps his ankle.
"You make it look so easy," I say as my fighter leaves the room, leaving just the two of us.
She shrugs, a smile on her face. "What can I say?"
I laugh and kiss her. "You're amazing. Ready to go?"
She looks around. "Uhh, yeah, just need to pack up."
"Okay," I nod. "I'll help."
We pack up and walk out of the room.
I stop and collect my winnings.
"Another great night, Declan," the bookie says. "Glad you're back."
I grip the fat envelope and hold it up. "Me too."
I turn and take Lyra's hand, and we make our way out. Nathan and George walk ahead of us, scanning the surroundings. Lyra's hand is warm in mine. I glance at her, catching her half-smiling, staring up at me.
"What's with the smile? Huh?" I ask, leaning close to her ear with a smile of my own.
She tilts her head up, eyes bright. "When we get home, I'll tell you."
We exit through the back, a quieter alley that leads to the gated lot where I parked. Nathan walks a few feet ahead, George a step behind, and I keep Lyra at my side, one hand on the small of her back. The night air feels cool against my skin as we leave the warm, stuffy warehouse.
We round the corner toward the car, and then I hear it.
A sharp pop. If you didn't know what a muffled gun sounds like, you'd never even notice.
But I do.
