"Then we'll deal with that too."
We. He said we. Like this is something we're in together now. Like my problem has become his problem just because he's decided it has.
"Why are you helping me?" The question comes out before I can stop it. "Really. Why do you care?"
He sets his water glass down on the floor and turns to face me. "Because you walked into my gym asking to learn how to protect yourself," he says. "And I decided you were mine to protect."
"Mine," I repeat.
He doesn't shrug it off. Doesn't backtrack or soften it. Just looks at me with those dark eyes and says, "Yes. Mine. I want to make you mine and I want everyone to know it."
My breath stops.
"I know how that sounds," he continues, and there's something almost frantic in his voice now, like he's pouring everything out before he can stop himself. "I know it sounds crazy coming from me. Someone you've known for less than two weeks. I'mprobably saying all this because I'm still running on adrenaline from the fight and I can't stop talking, but it's true. Every word of it is true."
"Cole—"
"I know we're very different," he says. "I know there's an age gap. I know you're this smart woman who works with numbers and I'm a fucking disaster who beats people unconscious for money. But I don't care. I'll fight the whole world for you if I have to."
I gasp.
Actually gasp, my hand coming up to cover my mouth because I don't know what else to do with the emotions flooding through me right now. No man has ever said anything like this to me. Not even close. My ex told me he loved me once, six months into our relationship, and it felt obligatory, like something he was supposed to say rather than something he felt.
But Cole is staring right into my eyes while he says these things, and there's nothing obligatory about it. There's nothing thought or calculated. It's just raw truth pouring out of him.
I move closer. Close enough that our knees touch. Close enough that I can sense his warm breath.
"Are you sure?" I ask. "Because I want you to. I want to be yours. I'm tired of denying myself good things in life."
"I'm sure," he says immediately. "But Chloe, you need to understand, I'm not one of those good things."
"What?"
"I told you before. I have nightmares. Every single night. I have noise in my brain that only stops with the violence in the Pit, and that's not going to change. I'm not… I'm not easy. I'm not simple. I'm probably going to fuck this up."
I reach out and take his hands. Both of them. They're so large that mine disappear entirely when I wrap my fingers around his palms. His knuckles are still swollen from tonight's fight, already starting to bruise.
"That's okay," I say softly. "Maybe now you'll have another reason to never lose in the Pit."
He stares at me for a moment, and then he laughs.
Actually laughs. It's a rough sound, like he's out of practice, but it's genuine and it transforms his whole face.
"You're perfect," he says. "And if you're watching, there's no way I can ever lose."
I smile. "I hope not. But even if you do, I'll nurse you back to health."
He doesn't reply.
Instead, his hand comes up to cup my face. His palm spans from my jaw to my temple, so large that he's holding my entire head in one hand, and then he closes his eyes and leans forward.
Everything slows down.
I watch his face get closer. Those dark eyes hidden now behind closed lids, his mouth slightly parted, his thick lips moving toward mine. My heart is racing so hard I'm sure he can feel it. I'm terrified I'll be a bad kisser, that my nervousness will make me clumsy, that I'll somehow ruin this moment.
But there's no way I'm backing down now.
I close my eyes and meet him halfway.
