Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)

by Aly Martinez

  “Flint?”

  “Yeah. Give me a second. I need to grab Riley first,” Flint answered before disappearing along with the flashlight.

  Darkness once again cloaked the room, and I scooted impossibly closer to Quarry’s chest, finding the immediate relief I desperately needed.

  I’m safe with him. Always.

  The power flashed one last time before staying on for good.

  “Holy shit,” Quarry breathed as we both took in the room.

  The DVD player, the Xbox, and the cable box were all knocked to the floor, and the entertainment center that had once housed them lay on its side with one door completely broken off.

  “Are you hurt?” He quickly stepped away and raked his eyes over my body, searching for any sign of injury.

  I wasn’t, but it was then that I realized what a mess I probably looked like.

  “Don’t look at me.” I quickly ducked behind him and buried my tear-stained face in his back.

  He chuckled and pulled my arms around his waist, resting his hands on top of mine. “She’s okay,” he said to himself.

  “I’m not okay. I look like one of those girls at your school right now.” I sniffled.

  “Nah. They aren’t cool enough to be like my Rocky.”

  Suddenly, my Rocky didn’t sound so bad.

  I rubbed my face in the cotton of his tee to dry my eyes. “Thanks. Ya…know. For that,” I told his back.

  He didn’t even have a chance to reply before I heard Flint’s voice heading in our direction.

  “Yeah. Everyone’s fine, Slate. The kids are back in bed, and I’m just about to give Liv her iPad. We’re all good.” He paused, “I’m not sure I can say the same about your entertainment center, but all of the homo sapiens under the roof are alive and well. Okay, I’ll ask. Hang on. Hey, Liv? You want your parents to come back?”

  “Um.” I seriously considered it until Quarry’s hand folded securely over mine, allowing me to answer honestly. “No. I’m good.”

  “She says she’s good. Okay. See you later.” He must have hung up the phone, because he let out a loud huff. “Christ, that was pandemonium.”

  “Sorry,” I squeaked.

  Quarry’s body stiffened before he corrected, “She’s not sorry. You’re not sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Right. Well, whatever. Here’s your iPad, Liv. I’m going back downstairs. I’ll leave the flashlight up here in case the lights go out again.”

  “Thanks,” Quarry replied.

  Flint’s voice grew distant as he shouted, “And clean up that crap before Slate gets back? Yeah?”

  Quarry didn’t reply. Nor did he attempt to step out of my grasp. He actually didn’t move at all as I clung to his back, still trying to get myself under control. My pulse slowly returned to a non-marathon pace, but my mind wasn’t nearly as fast to recover.

  “You gonna let me go any time soon?” he asked.

  “Not if I don’t have to,” I retorted.

  “Then you don’t have to. You want to at least put on your headphones. Just in case?” He lifted the earbuds attached to my iPad over his shoulder.

  I removed a hand from his waist only long enough to shove them in my ears. Quarry pressed play on my music and my whole body slacked as the familiar sounds washed through me.

  We must have stood there for fifteen minutes before he slowly led us back toward the couch. He was amazing and handled me with absolute caution. Not prying my hands away, he patiently waited for me to take the cue and lie down. Once I’d settled, he climbed on the couch in front of me. His large body teetered on the edge, but he turned and gave me his back again. Then he snagged my arm and draped it over his waist. I could only assume it was the teenage-boy version of holding me tenderly.

  But it was Quarry doing it, so it didn’t take but a second for me to realize that it was the best version of all.

  And it absolutely ruined me at only twelve years old.

  But, then again, Quarry had ruined me long before that.

  Even if I hadn’t known it yet.

  It should have been difficult to find sleep with as scared as I’d been when I’d woken up. But, with my headphones blaring in my ears and Quarry guarding my front, there was little to fear. He’d rescued me from the deepest, darkest demon hiding in the shadows of my mind.

  With him, I was invincible.

  We slept tangled together until my father yanked him off the couch, pissed as hell to have found us sleeping together. Quarry didn’t cower or offer any excuses as to what we had been doing. He looked my father squarely in eyes and told him, “She was afraid. I laid down with her and she wasn’t anymore. Sorry. Not sorry.”

  It was one hundred percent Quarry Page. Breathtakingly unapologetic.

  Emphasis on the breathtaking part.

  As he sauntered out the door that night, I called out, “Later, Q.”

  And, for the very first time, his response changed.

  I only caught the side of his face as he glanced over his shoulder, but that was more than enough to make my cheeks heat. The corner of his mouth lifted in a heart-stopping smile.

  “Later, Rocky.”

  SOMEHOW, OVER THE NEXT SIX months, I magically found myself in the world’s good graces again.

  Till had worked his way up the ladder in the professional boxing world, earning his very first title shot. Win or lose, it was a dream come true.

  Eliza was pregnant and expecting their first child—a girl. Thank God! We didn’t need any more Page boys.

  Flint had recently graduated high school and was gearing up for college. He was ridiculously smart and could have gone anywhere he wanted. He bitched out, though, and decided to go to the local university in order to stay close to the family. Eliza was ecstatic. I guessed that’d had a big role in his decision. He was weird about her in those days.

  I was kicking ass on the amateur boxing circuit, well on my way to following in Till’s footsteps like I’d always dreamed since I’d first climbed through the ropes.

  The Page family was happy, and life was simple again.

  I should have known it would be short-lived.

  We were all in Vegas for two full weeks for Till’s big title shot—and the best part was that we included Liv.

  Little did I know that the trip would end up being the biggest nightmare of my entire life…at that point.

  In a desperate attempt to settle a gambling debt, my father, Clay Page, crawled out of the woodwork for the first time in years in order to convince Till to throw the fight. His bookie, Frankie, had other ideas. He showed up at our room with a gun and kidnapped Eliza.

  I’d fought, but in the end, I was left bleeding and unconscious on the floor as he dragged her from the room.

  That was the first time I felt the paralyzing anguish of failing a woman I loved.

  I should have been the first line of defense in protecting what was ours. Eliza might have been married to only Till, but she belonged to all of us. I failed my entire family that day.

  I could have prevented it all if only I’d been stronger.

  Tougher.

  Patient.

  Careful.

  Smarter.

  In other words, not Quarry Page.

  And I had to live with that knowledge while the police searched for Eliza, not knowing if she was alive or dead.

  Flint got to be the hero that day, and his reward was a bullet he took in the back to protect Eliza and her unborn daughter.

  It gutted me.

  I should have been man enough to do that the moment Frankie had stormed in, waving a gun around. I hadn’t though. After everything they had given me—sacrificed for me—I’d failed them all.

  An insurmountable guilt devoured me the day the doctors told us that Flint might never walk again. I would have rather sat in a wheelchair for my entire life than watch the painful reality crumble my brother’s face, knowing that it was all my fault.

  It broke me in ways that could never be hea
led.

  I wasn’t a man.

  And, for that reason alone, I lost it in the middle of Flint’s hospital room with Eliza, Till, Erica, and Slate all watching on.

  “Hey, Q,” Flint called from his bed.

  I didn’t turn to face him as I answered, “Yeah.”

  “You crying over there?”

  I deserved that for what I had done. And especially for what I hadn’t done—protect them.

  “Fuck you,” I barked at my reflection in the window.

  “Hey, you can’t be a man and a baby. Either cuss or cry.”

  He was right. And it was exactly why I was crying like the little bitch I really was.

  “Leave him alone,” Erica urged.

  There was nothing to leave alone though. I’d earned that when I’d allowed an armed man to take Eliza—the only mother I’d ever known. Till would have burned the entire world down before allowing anyone to ever lay a finger on her. And Flint… Well, he’d more than shown the lengths to which he would go to make her safe.

  And I’d proved exactly how worthless I truly was.

  In an exaggerated baby voice, Flint mocked, “Q, you want me to ask the nurse if she has a lollipop?”

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  Pushing to my feet, I stormed past his bed, mumbling, “I hate you.”

  I didn’t hate him at all though.

  I hated myself.

  After sprinting from the room, I came face-to-face with a hall full of familiar faces and one pair of innocent, brown eyes I could feel even before they came into view.

  “Quarry, wait!” Liv yelled, chasing after me as I rushed down the hall, desperately seeking an escape from my entire fucking life.

  When I was sure I’d lost her, I quickly ducked into a supply closet and flipped the lights off.

  This is not happening. None of it.

  After sucking in a deep breath, I held it until my chest began to burn. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks, and I didn’t even bother wiping them away.

  The handle of the door twisted, and light from the hall filled the small space. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

  “Go away, Liv.”

  The door shut almost immediately. My body sagged in relief as the darkness once again cloaked the room.

  “Son of a bitch!” I shouted as two arms folded around my waist from behind. “Get out!” I roared as her body came flush with my back.

  “No,” she murmured, resting her head between my shoulder blades.

  “Leave me the hell alone. I don’t want you here!”

  “I don’t care if you want me here or not. If it happens to you, it happens to me too, remember?”

  But it hadn’t happened to her; it’d happened to me. And nothing she could say or do would change that. It didn’t matter one bit that I instantly felt better from knowing she was there. Not even Liv could fix this.

  “Leave me alone. It’s dark and quiet in here. God knows I can’t deal with you freaking the fuck out right now.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m safe with you, Quarry.”

  That one sentence was the absolute worst thing she could have possibly said. It lit me on fire, because not only had I convinced her of that bullshit over the years, but I’d even convinced myself.

  It was the biggest lie I had ever told.

  “I can’t protect you!” I roared, roughly removing her arms from around my hips. Spinning to face her, I continued to yell. “I can’t fucking protect anyone! Not you. Not Eliza. Not Flint. Not even my fucking self.”

  “Then I’ll protect you,” she whispered.

  And that damn warmth Liv seemed to magically transfer spread over me. My dependency on those brief moments of comfort was another one of my weaknesses. No more. Never again.

  I grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. “I can’t keep you safe. Look around us. It’s still dark. And, in a minute, it’s going to be really fucking quiet. You have to get over your shit before I have the chance to fail you too.”

  She attempted to once again close her arms around my waist, but I stepped out of her reach.

  “Stop saying that. You didn’t fail anyone,” she said.

  And that was the exact moment I lost her.

  Rage and self-loathing boiled in my veins. She was so fucking wrong. And the sooner she realized it, the safer she would be.

  Stomping past her, I did the unforgivable.

  I showed Liv James exactly how unsafe she was with me.

  After yanking the closet door open, I stepped out. I caught a glimpse of fear in her wide eyes just before I secured my spot in Hell by slamming the door behind me.

  “Quarry!” she shrieked, frantically rattling the handle.

  But I refused to release it.

  She needed to know.

  “Quarry!” Her fists beat on the wood as I sank to the ground, blocking the door with my body.

  She had to understand that the world was a scary place, where people you love got kidnapped, shot, and paralyzed. The silence was the easy part.

  “Quarry, please!” Utter panic colored her voice, but I didn’t budge.

  The vibrations of her tiny, pounding fists slashed my soul, ensuring that I’d wear the scars of that moment for the rest of my life. And maybe even a lifetime after that.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “Quarry!” she cried, her voice cracking as she broke into loud sobs.

  She needed to know that the silence wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her—trusting me was.

  “Daddy!” she screamed, giving up on me altogether—just as she should have.

  But it wrecked me all the same.

  After pushing to my feet, I released the door. It flew open, but I didn’t dare look at her. I couldn’t. I no longer had that right.

  She should have punched me. No. She should have beaten the absolute shit out of me.

  I would have let her. I’d have stood there until I was black and blue if it would have made her feel better.

  Instead, all I got was the squeak of her shoes on the tile as she sprinted away.

  It was the single best decision she had ever made—regardless of how it gutted me.

  Standing completely alone in that hall, I anxiously awaited the moment when Leo or Slate would come after me. I’d done the deed; I wanted to pay the price. They never showed up though. There were no laps to be run. No hard lesson from her angry father. Till didn’t even ground me when we got home. I wasn’t actually sure Liv had told anyone.

  But the punishment I received was more devastating than I was prepared for—even if it was exactly what I deserved.

  It was three long years before I saw Liv James again.

  I USED EVERY POSSIBLE EXCUSE to avoid Indianapolis, On The Ropes, and, more specifically, a pair of hazel eyes that had broken my heart. My parents were extremely suspicious as to why I broke into tears any time the Page brothers came up in conversation, but I never told them what had happened that day at the hospital. As much as I liked getting Quarry into minor trouble, I knew that this would have been major in my father’s eyes, mainly because it was major in mine too.

  Quarry no longer had my back—that much was clear. I, however, had told him that I’d protect him, and despite months of nightmares about being locked in that dark, silent closet, I kept my word.

  But just because I didn’t rat him out didn’t mean I forgave him—or ever would. Besides my parents and my counselor, he was the only person who knew about my fears. And he’d used that knowledge like a weapon, slicing me to the core. As sad as it sounds, the worst of it wasn’t the fact that he’d so grossly broken my trust. No, the worst was that I’d lost him in the process. A few months after it’d happened, my dad started bringing home notes any time he saw the boys. They were all addressed to Rocky, and they all landed in the trash can without being opened.

  I didn’t want an apology from Quarry Page.

  I actually didn’t want anythi
ng from him anymore.

  He’d made the decision, and I was the one forced to live with the consequences.

  It fucking sucked.

  I’d lost my best friend that day. Sure, we were just kids, but the bond Quarry and I shared was something that only happened once in a lifetime. I knew I’d never find anyone like him again, so I didn’t even bother trying.

  Much to my father’s excitement, I met a few girls at school. Most of them were nice, but they didn’t make me laugh the way Quarry had. They also never locked me in a closet, so I decided to keep them.

  Life moved on. I grew up, and judging by the amount of time my dad spent traveling to boxing matches with Slate, so did the Page brothers. I overheard my mom on the phone the day Quarry had won the Golden Gloves championship. I was happy for him. There was a part of me that ached because I would have killed to be at that fight. I could even imagine his lopsided grin as he caught my eye while I cheered his name from the front row. That thought stung worse than I could have ever imagined. I knew how much he loved boxing—just exactly the way he knew how terrified I was of the silence.

  With that, the ache went away, and I once again set on about living the lie that had become my life.

  And it worked really freaking well for three years. I was just a normal teenager, texting friends, flirting with boys, slaving over geometry homework, and religiously sleeping with headphones. So, maybe normal was a stretch. But I was happy-ish. I rarely even thought about my old childhood pal, Quarry Page. And, by rarely, I mean maybe once a week. Okay, so maybe rarely was a bit of a stretch too. It’s not like I had a scrapbook of all the articles that were published about him in the sports section as he became the up-and-coming golden boy of boxing at only sixteen. Being that Till was a former world champion and his trainer, Uncle Slate, was too, boxing fans everywhere were watching Quarry destroy the amateur circuit. A scrapbook like that would have taken hours each week to keep up—hypothetically, of course.

  I never hated Quarry for what he had done to me. I hated him for what he had done to us. It had been the ultimate betrayal, and it affected me far more than those sixty seconds in the closet. I had already been a bit of a loner, preferring to spend my time with a book and music rather than actual people. But, as the years passed, it became worse. If I didn’t trust anyone else, they couldn’t hurt me. It was a hard lesson learned but surprisingly easy to maintain. I had friends, but not a single confidant.