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“Maximoff Hale, will you marry me?”
if it were anything that threatens your body, your life, I’d break the neck of the motherfucker who bids on you.”
“Love is pain, and you know what…I feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t met it yet.”
my side, slams into the concrete median with a violent bang. My body wrenches forward against my seatbelt. A crack steals my breath away. Hot tears slip out of the corners of my eyes—I can’t breathe. And then, the car flips.
He’s in critical condition, and he can’t know what I know. I’ve never lied to him, but I can’t tell him this. Right now, I’m the first and last defense against fatality.
“I love you,” he repeats. “Stop. Stop.” I can’t do an ending with the one person I’ve loved enough to want to last forever. I can’t. I haven’t even told him that I can see forever. I haven’t said all that needs to be said yet.
“You’re stuck with me, wolf scout. I’ll annoy the shit out of you every single morning for decades. Longer, and our kids will take your side because you’re good and lovable.” He breathes deeper. “We have kids?” His iron-willed eyes drift to imagine this future, our future. “How many?” A rock lodges. “As many as you want,” I say, never lying to him. “And when I agitate you and I really hit a nerve, you’ll joke about how you wish you died in this car crash.”
he repeats like I’m full of shit and I’ve already scribbled hearts around M + F in my diary. Just so you know, I don’t have a diary. And if I did…Farrow would be all over it.
“You told your dad you’re naming your son Batman.” My eyes pop out of my head. “No I didn’t.” He has to be fucking with me. “Yeah, you did,” Farrow smiles wide. “Your dad asked you, what son? And you said the one in the Batmobile.”
“Your dad is alive,” Farrow says easily, “but he said your son sounds like a little prick.”
My dad’s brows scrunch at me. “Did your mom and I not teach you the art of being a couch potato? Jesus Christ, I’ve truly failed as a parent.”
“I’m just some guy,” I remind him. “No,” Maximoff says, firm and final. “You’re the guy.” It hits me hard, and I inhale.
“We’re getting our Meredith back.” He slow-claps. I smile. “Man, you know I’m a Christina.”
Maximoff trying to protect me has definitely become one of my all-time favorite things.
“I’ve taken so much away from you, and I can’t stop it. I can’t change the fact that my family is chaotic, messy, and bizarre-as-fuck because I love them as they fucking are, and I feel selfish wanting you to be a part of that.” I inhale. “The media took my privacy; you haven’t taken a thing from me, Maximoff. You’re giving me something so fucking precious: your chaotic, messy, bizarre-as-fuck family, and I also love them as they fucking are. Plus, I look forward to coming home and putting out wildfires with you. It’s not that complicated.”
Hell, I see them as different sides of my boyfriend: Connor is mental. He taught Maximoff intelligence, emotional restraint and confidence. Lo is emotional, the sarcastic, loving and empathetic pieces of him. And then Ryke is physical, all determination and stubbornness and unshakeable strength.
“In other news, I was offered a condom sponsorship this morning.” Ryke almost spits out his water. “You have seven fucking kids.” “Royal sperm,” Lo quips. “Don’t fucking encourage that,” Ryke says and points at Connor’s billion-dollar grin with a butter knife.
