Page 14 of Big Wild Fighter

Marlon is sitting in the same corner, one arm draped along the back of the seat, looking like he owns the place. He’s traded his workout clothes for a dark hoodie and jeans, but he still looks maddeningly good—like he could’ve stepped out of one of those promo shoots I just tortured myself imagining.

He notices me before I can duck away, his eyes locking onto mine. His lips curve into a warm half-smile, and just like that, the air seems to shift.

I stop in my tracks, my heart slamming against my ribs. He shouldn’t be here. He’s supposed to be on a plane.

“Hey, Grace,” he says, his voice cutting through the din of the restaurant like it’s meant just for me.

I don’t know what to do—run, yell, cry? I settle for the only thing I can manage: I walk up to his table, gripping my notepad like it’s some kind of shield.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound calm. Instead, my voice comes out breathy and uneven.

He tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in my head. “I wanted to see you.”

I blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of his answer. “You’re supposed to be on your way to LA.”

His smile falters for a second, but then he shrugs. “I was. But then I realized something.”

I cross my arms, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens at the sight of him. “And what’s that?”

“That I’d be an idiot to leave without telling you how I feel.”

The words hit me like a sucker punch. I stare at him, my brain scrambling to process what he just said.

“You…” I trail off, shaking my head. “What are you talking about?”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I’m talking about the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. On the drive back to the hotel, while I was packing, even when I was booking the damn flight—I couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong it felt to leave.”

I open my mouth to argue, to tell him he’s being ridiculous, but the words won’t come.

“I needed to see you, Grace. I needed you to know before anything else happened”

My throat feels tight, and I can barely breathe. “Know what?” I whisper.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine where they rest on my notepad. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s enough to make my walls start to crack.

“Know that I’m not going anywhere,” he says softly. “Not if it means losing you. I’m not going through LA. I’m going to house my truck with the local mechanic and I’m flying out straight from the next airport over to Chile tomorrow morning. But, that’s only if you want to go with me. If you want to stay here, we’ll stay and I’m retiring.”

And just like that, the floodgates open. I’ve spent hours convincing myself that this was over, that I’d never see him again, and now he’s here, telling me he’s staying.

“Marlon…” I start, my voice trembling, but he cuts me off.

“I know it’s a lot, and I know I’ve got a lot to prove. But I’m here, Grace. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to and you’re by my side.”

I stare at him, my heart hammering in my chest, and for the first time in hours, I feel something other than pain.

Hope.

I know what I need to do.

“Marlon,” I say, my voice steadier now, though my heart is still racing, “you can’t give up Chile. You’re not ready to retire. You and I both know that.”

His face falls, and the hurt in his eyes nearly breaks me, but I keep going because he needs to hear this. “The fact that you’d even offer—that you’d choose me over everything you’ve workedfor—it means everything to me. But I can’t let you do that. I won’t let you do that.”

His brows furrow, his hand tightening slightly over mine. “Grace—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. “No. Listen to me. This is your dream, Marlon. And you’re so damn good at it. I won’t be the reason you walk away. But…” I take a shaky breath, my chest tightening. “If you’re serious—if you really want me by your side—then I’ll go with you.”

His eyes widen, the disbelief and relief warring on his face. “You’d—”

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