by Aly Martinez
When he leaned down and caught her mouth in a kiss, I heard the actual crunch of the shards of my heart being stomped on.
I wasn’t exactly sure why though. It had been years since we had seen each other, and even back then, we’d been just friends. I could only think of one reason for the searing pain that consumed me when his lips touched hers.
It was Quarry.
DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS…WEIRD.
Gouge-your-eyes-out-with-a-spoon, swear-you-will-never-do-it-again-for-as-long-as-you-live, push-delicious-food-around-a-plate-while-staring-at-the-clock-on-your-phone kind of weird.
It was great to see Till and Eliza again. They had their daughter, Blakely, with them, and Eliza had just found out the baby she was carrying was a boy—hence the reason for the celebratory family dinner.
It was also nice to see Flint again. He was out of the wheelchair, but he still needed forearm crutches to get around. He remained quiet and cranky most of the meal—only talking to Till and occasionally signing insults at Mia. He’d always grin, and she held her own with rude comebacks, so I guessed it was just part of their dynamic.
In between all of this, I chatted with Quarry while Mia glared at me. She didn’t even attempt to hide her disdain, and Quarry’s only acknowledgement of it was to swear to me that she would get over it. I wasn’t sure I believed him. But, being that I was the random guest at their family dinner, I stayed quiet and tried not to make it as awkward for anyone else as it was for me.
After I’d received hugs from everyone—but Mia—my mom arrived to pick me up.
Even though Quarry had insisted that we switch phone numbers at dinner, I had absolutely zero intentions of using his. I didn’t even have a chance to beg my dad to let me change my number before my phone pinged from a number I didn’t recognize.
It seemed Quarry shared more than just saliva with Mia.
She texted me to see when I would be back in Indy.
Then she texted me the day after that to ask if I would be at Quarry’s next fight.
I knew she didn’t honestly care about seeing me again. She just wanted to know when I was going to be around Quarry. And then she was going to make sure her ass was parked on the other side of him.
She texted me again the following day to find out why I hadn’t replied.
Then Quarry texted me to make sure I was okay because I wasn’t replying to Mia’s texts.
Shoot me.
I finally replied, hoping they’d just leave me the hell alone. It had the exact opposite effect though. That one text opened some kind of magical door to an alternate dimension. Mia started texting me all the time. Most of which had nothing to do with Quarry. It was strange at first, and I ignored just as many messages as I responded to, but God, that girl was persistent.
She was also pretty cool.
Before I knew it, I was the one texting her. Once the bitchiness had melted away, it was easy to see why Quarry was so crazy about Mia.
She was hilarious.
And feisty.
And unbelievably witty.
She wasn’t prissy, but she still loved shoes (flats), manicures (skulls designs), and makeup (her palette of choice: neon.)
We were just different enough to keep things interesting, but similar enough that we never ran out of things to talk about.
It wasn’t long before I fell in love with Mia March too. We texted every single day and eventually started video-chatting almost nightly. I started going down to Indy to spend weekends with her, during most of which she’d ditch Quarry and we’d eat junk food and laugh until midnight. Her parents even let her catch rides up to Chicago with my dad so she could visit me too.
Sure, I saw Quarry a good bit, but it wasn’t weird anymore. He and Mia were good for each other. Besides, I had met an amazing girl who I’d truly bonded with and I’d gotten Quarry back. That was enough for me.
The three of us were the true definition of best friends. They had my back and I had theirs. No matter what. We had no secrets from each other. Well, that’s not true. I still checked Quarry’s ass out every time he left a room, but that was one secret I’d take to the grave.
One night, as we shared a twelve-pack of beers Quarry had bought with his fake ID, I told them the few memories I had of my birth mother, including the night she’d died. Mia told us about how scared she had been when she’d lost her hearing to brain cancer as a kid. And Quarry told us about how screwed up he had been the first few months after Flint had been paralyzed. Mia and I ended up crying, and Quarry ended up cussing about how he needed to stop hanging out with chicks before he started his period. This was said only seconds before he threw his arms around our shoulders and pulled us in for a painful group hug.
Yeah. What I had with the two of them was more than enough for me.
Or so I lied to myself. Daily.
Mia and I spent a lot of time at Quarry’s fights. His already-successful boxing career soared to a new level over the years. There wasn’t an amateur opponent he hadn’t destroyed in the ring. Quarry “The Stone Fist” Page lived up to his name, with the majority of his wins coming by way of knockout. Mia and I, along with Eliza and eventually Flint’s girlfriend, Ash, were in the front row at every fight. The four of us rushed into the ring each time his glove was lifted into the air.
The boxing world had been waiting on baited breath for Quarry to go pro. The media covered him closer with each passing year. But, despite the excitement from the boxing community, Till and Slate refused to allow him to make the transition to professional boxing when he turned eighteen.
He wasn’t ready was what they told us.
Whether he was or not, I had no clue, but I knew for sure that he was pissed.
When Flint, Quarry’s agent, made the announcement to the media, I thought there was going to be a riot, both on the TV screen and in the middle of Till’s living room. Quarry erupted, and Till quickly told him to get the fuck out if he wanted to act like an asshole under his roof. Mia and I snuck out the back door while that one played out. I love the Page family, but God, did those brothers fight. And Quarry, being Quarry, was almost always in the middle of it.
Quarry actually moved out a week later, but it wasn’t on bad terms. Till agreed to help Q get his own place since he was eighteen but not going off to college or starting the career he was so passionate about. Till also gave him five hundred bucks for his birthday to put toward the huge back tattoo he’d been planning since he had been fourteen. The excitement of those two things was enough to take the edge off him.
Mia spent a good bit of time at Quarry’s apartment. I, however, wasn’t allowed over there at all. My dad had gotten over his issues with Quarry about the same time I had. He knew we were only friends, but he did not approve of his high school daughter hanging out at a guy’s apartment. He never said anything about Flint’s house though. So, on the weekends I was in town, we’d all go over there. It worked because we all loved Ash and she somehow even managed to make grouchy Flint fun.
When it came time for me to go off to college, picking a school and a major was easy. My two best friends were deaf and living in Indianapolis. I didn’t delay in enrolling in the local university there and declaring American Sign Language as my major. Picking a roommate was equally as easy. Mia and I got an apartment right next to the college, only about ten minutes from Quarry’s.
Without the distance dividing us, Mia, Quarry, and I were inseparable.
We were living the dream of college kids everywhere.
Which only made Mia’s deceit that much more unbearable.
When I was nineteen years old, I learned that dreams didn’t exist.
Our happy lives were nothing more than the gentle melody that lulls you into a nightmare.
Mia March died three weeks before her twentieth birthday.
Parts of Quarry and me slowly died for years to come.
“MOVE!” I ROARED, PUSHING THROUGH the cameras all furiously snapping pictures around me.
“
Just keep walking,” Slate said, nudging my shoulder before pushing his palm into the chest of a waiting reporter.
I wasn’t famous. Hell, I’d never even stepped foot inside the ropes of a professional ring. The only reason I’d been on the covers of magazines was because of my connections and my bloodline. But I guess when your girlfriend is put on life support the same day you’re supposed to announce your professional boxing debut, the paparazzi makes their own definition of fame.
I’d spent years wishing for the attention Slate and Till got. However, right then, I wished I could push every one of those assholes into the giant pit and light that bitch on fire. Hell, given the way I was feeling, maybe I’d dive in myself.
I dipped my shoulder out of Slate’s grip. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
“Walk,” he growled, pushing me toward my sports car.
Cameras continued to click.
After tugging on the knot, I ripped my tie off and threw it at the closest scumbag, wishing it were my fist instead.
“Quarry! Quarry! Quarry!” the reporters clamored as I pushed a pair of sunglasses up my nose to hide my red-rimmed eyes. “Is it true you were against Mia March being taken off life support?”
Ha! I hadn’t just been against it. I had been fucking rabid about it. And it was exactly why I was being escorted out of her wake. I hadn’t been able to sit there a minute longer and watch her piece-of-shit parents mourn the daughter they’d killed. They’d pulled the plug. They’d made that decision. I would have fought for the rest of my life to keep her alive. But they’d just fucking quit, throwing in the towel before Mia had even had the chance to prove she was stronger than everyone gave her credit for.
“No comment,” Slate barked as flashes continued to fire off around us.
“Quarry! How long had you known about her brain tumor?”
About ten fucking minutes after I’d lost her. She had taken that fun fact to the grave—literally. Bile rose in my throat.
“No comment!” Slate once again pushed a reporter out of our path.
“Slate. Is it true that Quarry’s first fight has been set for next month against Madden? How do you think Mia’s death will affect him in the ring?”
In the ring?
In the fucking ring?
I froze as an angry chill spread over my skin.
Deep breath. Hold it…
Oh, fuck it.
Swinging a hand out, I sent that asshole’s camera flying. I quickly twisted my fist into the front of his shirt, forcing him against a car.
“In the ring, you motherfucker? It’s going to affect my entire goddamn life!”
Slate’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as he desperately fought to drag me away. “Stop!”
I couldn’t though.
She’s gone.
I tightened my grip, staring murderously into his eyes. “You people show up at a funeral home? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t worry about how this is going to affect me in the ring. You should be more concerned with how it’s affecting me right fucking now.”
“Let him go!” Till ordered, appearing beside me. After looping an arm around my waist, he dragged me away.
Flint stepped in to run interference with the douchebag reporter.
“Jesus Christ, Quarry! Calm down. You’re making it worse.” Till pointed toward the building where the woman I loved lay dead in a coffin.
Oh, God.
My eyes, tunneled by rage, flashed around the mob of reporters before landing on the front steps of the funeral home, where an even bigger crowd of Mia’s friends and family were watching me violently break down—again.
“I need to get out of here,” I mumbled, straightening my shirt.
“Good idea,” he replied, shoving me toward my car. “I’ll drive.”
“No. I want to be alone.”
“You can’t drive right now, Q.”
“Watch me.”
“You cannot be behind the wheel…” He carried on with some explanation, but I was more than done listening. The silence had never sounded so good.
Looking up at the sky, I sucked in a breath so deep that it caused my lungs to ache. I refused to release it though.
Don’t exhale.
Ignoring Till’s protests, I dug my keys from my pocket and folded into my car. Barely managing to squeeze around the relentless reporters, I started toward the exit.
This is not happening.
Don’t breathe.
My lungs were on fire, but it felt a hell of a lot better than what was going on in my heart, so I bit my lip and let it blaze—praying that it would eventually engulf me.
Glancing in my review mirror, I saw the cops rolling into the parking lot, but that wasn’t what made me stop. My breath left me on a rush as I slammed on the brakes the moment she came into view.
Liv was standing in the middle of the road, staring at my taillights.
Her big, brown eyes were as empty as I felt, and her face was painted with absolute anguish. Without out a single second of hesitation, I leaned over and pushed the passenger’s side door open in invitation. In a pair of heels and a short, black dress, she sprinted forward, not slowing until her ass hit my leather seat. Her door hadn’t even shut before I was off again.
After turning her cell phone off, she tossed it in the glove box. Mine quickly followed. She didn’t ask any questions as I pulled onto the highway in the exact opposite direction of both of our apartments. She didn’t want to go home any more than I did.
Our destination was unknown, and that alone made it infinitely better than the one we’d just left.
I drove.
And drove.
Then, when I was sick and tired of aimlessly driving, I drove some more.
With the exception of Liv flipping the radio on when the sun went down, we sat in absolute silence for over four hours.
Alone, yet still together.
Finally, around ten p.m., with an empty tank of gas and sleepy eyes, I slipped into a parking space in front of the apartment Liv and Mia shared. Liv didn’t delay in pushing the door open, but that’s the only effort she put into getting out.
Dropping her head against the headrest, she whispered at the windshield, “Her parents told me she left letters for us. We can pick them up whenever we’re ready.”
“I don’t want a fucking letter. She lied. She’s sorry. I got it. Nothing left to say.”
“Maybe it will explain stuff though. It might help.”
My angry gaze jumped to her, but she was still staring out the window.
“Will it bring her back?” I asked. “No? Then I don’t need a goddamn letter. Fuck that. Fuck her parents too. I don’t want shit from them.”
“They didn’t kill her, Quarry.”
“How can you say that?”
Her eyes finally met mine. “It was what Mia wanted. She signed the Do Not Resuscitate order, not them.”
“What the fuck are you doing here? Please, God, tell me you are not actually siding with them? Because, if I recall correctly, we both begged them not to give up on her. They didn’t give a shit about anyone. Liv, they didn’t even get a second opinion.”
“I’m not siding with anyone but Mia. She made a choice. We have to respect it.” Her expression was emotionless, even though her voice trembled.
“Respect it? Fuck her shitty choice. She should have respected me enough to let me have a say.”
She laughed without humor. “You never would have let her go, Q.”
I slammed the heel of my palm against the steering wheel. “You’re goddamn right I wouldn’t have!”
“She had brain cancer. It was going to happen one way or another. She knew it. And she made a decision. We don’t get to be mad about that.”
“Get the fuck out of my car.”
“No. Listen to me—”
“I’ll start listening the moment you stop spouting the bullshit her parents shoved down your throat tonight.”
She raised her voice for the f
irst time all day. “It’s the truth!”
“It’s bullshit! All of it. How am I supposed to respect the fact that she lied to me for six months? Six fucking months that I could have used to prepare for this.”
“Oh my God, Quarry!” she yelled, exasperated. “Do you seriously think six months could have ever prepared you for this? I could have known since the day I met her and I still wouldn’t have been ready to lose her.”
“I could have tried! I could have spent that time devoted to being with her instead of traveling to fights. Jesus Christ, Liv, last weekend, I went out with the guys from the gym to play pool. The last fucking Saturday night of her life on this Earth and I was shooting pool with a bunch of assholes I can barely stand. Six months she kept the fact that she was dying a secret. Six. Fucking. Months. You’re right. I wouldn’t have been ready to let her go, but at least I could have figured out how to say goodbye. Instead, all I got was to squeeze her hand, say, ‘I love you,’ and then be escorted out of the hospital by security. Fuck!”
“That’s because you were acting like a fool and threatening her family! That was your choice!”
“Get the fuck out of my car. Now!”
“And it’s also the reason you got thrown out of the visitation tonight. Get your shit together or you won’t be allowed at the funeral tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to go to the funeral!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, making her flinch. “I don’t want there to be a funeral at all. Now, I’m serious. Get. The fuck. Out. Of my car.”
Through gritted teeth, she seethed, “You know what I’ll never understand? How you claim to be so in love with her, but in this entire conversation, I haven’t heard you say a single word that wasn’t about you. How this affects you. How this hurt you. Last time I checked, you aren’t the one being buried tomorrow.”
“I wish I were!”
“Fuck you! The world doesn’t revolve around Quarry Page!” With that, she jumped out and slammed the door.
I didn’t even wait for her to make it to the sidewalk before I was peeling out of the parking lot.
Fuck her.
