by Stacey Lynn
I gasp at the beautiful ring, the enormous diamond, and the band of smaller ones surrounding it.
"Sarah Linscum, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
I can't speak.
All vocal abilities have fled.
I can only stand in front of him, my fingers gripping his hand so hard I'm sure I'm breaking bones, while my left hand falls in front of me.
I'm a trembling, crazy mess as I finally bark out the word, "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!"
The small crowd behind him erupts into cheers.
I don't look at them.
My gaze is still frozen on the man in front of me as he slides a heavy, shiny ring onto my finger, stands up, and cups the sides of my neck in his warm and strong hands.
"I love you, honey," he whispers as he brings our mouths closer together.
"I love you," I choke out over tears.
Our lips meet in the gentlest of gentle kisses as our friends and family gather around us. We're pulled apart and into separate hugs, the women gushing over my gorgeous new ring and the men slapping Lynx on the back.
But he's never more than arm's reach away from me.
Because Lynx wasn't kidding six months ago.
I'm stuck to him. Just like he's always stuck to me.
Forever.
***
Twelve Years later
Lynx
The bell dings at the door and I look up from where I'm talking to one of our current fighters about his training schedule and diet for the next two weeks before his fight.
The gym we took over after Rodney retired has now become a world-class MMA training gym. Victory belts hang all over the walls. The place is filled with sounds of grunts and chains being moved by fists and kicks.
It smells like ass and sweat. Best smell in the entire world, as far as I'm concerned.
Grayson, Landon, and I have turned our old boss's gym into something that makes dreams come true. We've trained dozens of MMA fighters. Have had more fights than I can count on Pay-Per-View, and there's no sign of slowing down.
We're the fucking top tier of trainers for MMA fighters and have to turn people away constantly.
A teenage kid walks in and my eyes almost bug out of my head.
He looks familiar and it only takes me a moment of watching his eyes roam the vast open space before he locks on Grayson in the middle of the ring, sparring with another fighter.
The kid is a spitting image of Kennedy, Grayson's wife.
I've been seeing pictures of this kid every year.
We have a half dozen of them behind Grayson’s desk in our office.
I look at Juarez Mantigo in front of me. "Get your diet in check before we start force-feeding you, and come in tomorrow ready to get your ass kicked."
The arrogant kid nods once. "Sure thing, boss."
He grabs his new menu plan and stalks back to the locker rooms. I don't watch him go; my hand is already on my phone and I'm dialing my wife.
"Hey, honey," she calls sweetly.
I don't let myself smile like I usually do when I hear my wife's sweet voice mixed with our three kids screaming in the background.
Ice runs through my veins, and I can't take my eyes off the kid still stuck frozen just inside the doors. "Get Kennedy on the phone now, sweetheart. You guys need to get to the gym."
"Is everything okay? Grayson?"
"He's good. I swear it. But I think their son is here."
I can feel her confusion through the phone. "Mitchell?"
"No." Is this seriously happening? I can barely say the name. "No, sweetheart. I think Thad is here."
"Holy shit," she whispers. "I'll call her."
I hang up without saying goodbye and force myself to move out from behind the desk.
"Can I help you?" I ask, walking toward the kid. Fucking hell.
He looks just like her.
The kid jumps as if I've startled him and pulls his gaze off Grayson and onto me. His hand goes to the back of his neck. "No. I...uh...I was looking for someone. But, I think I might..."
He trails off and I take another step forward.
"I can get Grayson for you, if you'd like me to."
His cheeks turn pink. "Do you know who I am?"
Fucking shit. Being a father must have turned me into some sort of pussy. I can feel my nose begin to sting. "Yeah, Thad," I say and watch as he jerks at the sound of his name. "We know who you are. Grayson and Kennedy have been waiting a long time to see you again."
His eyes fill with tears. I watch him suck them back as his chin wobbles. He nods once and I set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once before walking away.
I hurry to the cage, where Grayson is instructing a fighter on how he's dropping his left fist when he's punching. I don't give a shit at all that I'm interrupting.
"Hey," I say when I get close. I glance back at the doorway to see that Thad is still where I've left him. Still standing like a statue. At least he hasn't bolted.
Grayson's been waiting for another chance to see his kid since the one and only time he met him thirteen years ago. He's lived for this day. And since I know Thad just turned eighteen last week, I can only assume that the Matsens have finally told their adoptive son who his birth parents are.
I fucking hope Kennedy gets her ass here, and quick.
"What is it?" Grayson asks, snapping off his sparring helmet. Most coaches don't wear them, but after one too many concussions ended his own fighting career and since he had kids, Grayson's always safe.
"Someone's here to see you," I say but block his view from the doorway.
Grayson's eyes narrow. He must read something in my expression—something that's a mixture of fucking elation for my best friend of almost twenty years and shock.
I nod my head toward the front door but don't give him a chance to speak when I say, "I've already had Sarah call Kennedy."
"What the hell for?"
I step to the side and whisper, "It's Thad, man. Thad's here."
Grayson's eyes widen as he looks toward the front door and then he stumbles on his feet. I'd laugh if I wasn't so fucking moved by what I see in his eyes.
And that's when I know it's official.
Fatherhood does turn a man into a pussy.
Tears swell in his eyes. He doesn't fucking bother brushing them away before he mutters, "Holy fucking shit. It's him."
He leaps over the ropes, lands on his feet, and jogs the distance across the gym.
I watch from my spot as he reaches Thad, and before the kid can say a word, Grayson pulls him into his arms and fucking hugs the shit out of him.
Thad's arms tighten at his sides before he drops his head to Grayson's shoulder and hugs him back.
"Who the hell is that?" Clinton asks, standing in the middle of the ring Grayson just leap-frogged over.
"His oldest son," I say and then hop out of the cage and head toward the men.
They’re still in a strong, seemingly unending embrace.
Both are crying.
Neither give a shit.
When they pull apart, I suggest Grayson use the office as he's getting looks from pretty much every person in the gym.
He doesn't care now. Thad doesn’t seem to mind either, but they might later.
"I'll stay out here until Kennedy gets here."
Grayson flashes me a grateful look. “Thanks, man.”
I slap him on the shoulder as he turns to lead Thad into the office. “Happy for you, asshole.”
The grin Grayson flashes me says everything. There isn’t a man in the world that’s happier than he is right now.
I count the fucking minutes, chewing the side of my thumbnail until the front door crashes open.
Sarah and Kennedy both rush inside, and our fucking gaggle of children—three for us and four for Kennedy—come screaming through the doors with them.
"Kids!" Sarah shouts, but it's no use.
I've given her three boys, one a set of identical twins that look no
thing like Landon and me. They're all her with light blond hair but light brown eyes.
My boys are fucking menaces.
I love it.
"Where are they?" Kennedy gasps, her face pale. "Where is he?"
"Office, Kennedy. They've been there for twenty minutes."
"Okay." She nods frantically and swipes her hair behind her shoulders before she corrals all her children, the oldest of whom is almost ten. "Okay. I'm going to see your dad—”
"And Thad!" Mitchell, her oldest, exclaims.
I laugh at the show. Grayson's kids might be the only ones I know who are crazier and louder than mine.
"Yes, Mitchell," Kennedy says, clearly flustered. "And Thad. You kids wait out here with Uncle Lynx and Aunt Sarah while I go see them, though, okay? I promise you that I'll come get you so you can meet him, too."
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Sarah pulls her in for a fierce, quick hug before letting go.
"Go," Sarah says, pushing her away. "Go see your son."
Kennedy sniffles. “Damn it. This feels so good it hurts…" She squeezes her eyes closed, gives her head a quick shake, and gets control before she disappears into the office.
Sarah slams her body against me, wrapping her hands around my waist. "Holy shit. I can't believe they're finally meeting him."
I rest my cheek against the top of her head.
They've dreamed of this moment for years. For over a decade they've held to their promise of not contacting the Matsens again except for on Thad’s birthday.
And now...their final dream is coming true in front of my eyes.
Fuck. I could use a tissue.
Whiskey. Beer. Something manly. I'm not going to fucking cry.
"Lynx?"
I look down at my wife and smile. Her lips twitch, fighting a smile, and I know she's trying not to laugh at the way I'm holding a loose thread on my own emotions.
"What, honey?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"And Jaxon just kicked Jason in the face again."
My head whips around to see my twin boys, seven years old, decked out in full fight gear. They've taken over one of the small sparring cages and Jason is on the floor, hands to his nose, rolling all over the place.
"Damn it," I exclaim and hear Sarah burst out in laughter behind me. "These kids are fucking animals."
"Don't forget Jordan!" she shouts, and I swing my gaze around the room.
I swear my four-year-old is part monkey. He’s currently clinging to the top of one of the hanging bags, feet wrapped around the thing like it's a tree trunk.
I shake my head, feeling my smile widen even with the frustration.
I head that way first and grab Jordan, swinging him over my shoulder so he's hanging upside down while I head to the mats.
I plop him down next to Jaxon.
I check out Jason's bloody nose, which has already stopped bleeding, and point my finger at all three maniacal terrors.
"We've been over this. This gym is not a damn playground. Be good or you won't get dessert tonight, okay?"
"We already lost dessert," they exclaim, almost at the same time.
I don't even want to know how.
"Then you'll go to bed early."
"We have to do that, too!" Their bottom lips form three pouts and I close my eyes, sighing.
I give up.
"Just be good, okay?"
They all grin—that same damn mischievous grin that tells me they're not listening to a single damn word I'm saying. "We will, Dad."
"Right," I mutter.
Let them kill themselves in the cage. That's what the headgear and gloves are for, anyway.
I head back to my wife and stop caring that there are people watching.
Ten years of marriage and she makes my damn cock hard every single time I look at her.
Our house is mayhem.
My boxing gym is even worse.
But at the end of the day, I climb into bed next to a woman who, a long time ago, healed all my demons, let me help heal hers, and then we fucking gave each other the best life possible.
There's not one damn thing that's better than this.
Acknowledgements
As always, many thanks to all the people who have helped me complete yet another book. Your encouragement and laughter help keep me sane and motivated to keep going. Special thanks to Shannon, Heather, and Tonya for your extra help in reading and giving me feedback for this particular story.
To the ladies of BACP and FTN, you’re all hilariously amazing and I value all the friendships we’ve made over the years. Keep being awesome!
Amy, thank you for your patience and help in editing yet another one of my books. Your comments always crack me up. I’m so sorry for being so weird!
Emily, you’re always there when I need an extra set of eyes on the finished product. Thank you for helping polish my books!
To all the blogs and bloggers who help spread the word, thank you so much. I couldn’t continue to write without all of your invaluable support. Special thank you to Give Me Books for organizing yet another cover reveal and blog tour. You rock!
Thank you to all the readers. I’ve said it a thousand times and will always continue to be incredibly grateful to you for loving my books. Every message received, every comment posted, and every email warms me to the bottom of my soul. You’re precious to me.
Other Books by Stacey Lynn
Just One Series
Just One Song
Just One Week
Just One Regret
The Nordic Lords Series
Point of Return
Point of Redemption
Point of Freedom
Point of Surrender
Standalones
Remembering Us
Don’t Lie To Me
Try Me – A Don’t Lie To Me Novella
The Affair Series – S. Layne
Entice
Embrace
Enflame
UPCOMING RELEASES
The Fireside Series
His to Love – Spring 2016
His to Protect – Summer 2016
His to Cherish – Fall 2016
His to Seduce – Winter 2017
About the Author
Stacey Lynn currently lives in Minnesota with her husband and four children. When she’s not conquering mountains of laundry and fighting a war against dust bunnies and cracker crumbs, you can find her playing with her children, curled up on the couch with a good book, or on the boat with her family enjoying Minnesota’s beautiful, yet too short, summer.
She lives off her daily pot of coffee, can only write with a bowlful of candy nearby, and has been in love with romance novels since before she could drive herself to the library.
For more information or to contact Stacey Lynn, you can find her here:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/staceylynnbooks
Twitter: @staceylynnbooks
Instagram: @staceylynn.author
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.staceylynnbooks.com