by Aly Martinez
Till’s face formed a fake smile that proved he knew exactly what he was missing and he fucking hated it.
Thankfully, the doctor must have seen our exchange. “Here.” He turned the monitor to face us. “You can see it on the screen.” He placed his finger below a tiny blinking light.
Nothing about that black-and-white image was even remotely recognizable as a baby, but its little heart still beat steadily. It made sense. It was Till’s baby; the heart had always been his most defining feature.
Till gasped as he pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly. He silently stared at that screen until the doctor turned it away, and even then, he moved toward my feet in order to keep it in his line of sight.
“Can you tell if it’s a girl?” he asked.
The doctor snickered before turning to face him and shaking his head no.
“No, it’s not a girl, or no, you can’t tell?”
“It’s way too soon to tell,” he replied.
Till’s eyes flashed to mine for the translation.
At the answer, he released a loud breath and raked a hand through his hair. “Okay. I’m gonna need it to be a girl, and if you could sway that for me, I’d really appreciate it.”
The doctor laughed as he handed Till a few grainy pictures that would serve absolutely no purpose other than wasting hours of our time as we tried to make out the nonexistent shape of our baby. Maybe that made them the most precious pictures of all though.
“Go ahead and get dressed. Everything looks great, and we can discuss details and future appointments in my office.” The doctor walked out of the room, leaving us both still shocked and emotional in his wake.
I waved a hand to catch Till’s attention, but when he looked up, his eyes had lost their playfulness.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He swallowed hard before painting on a painful-looking smile. “Way better than okay,” he responded unconvincingly.
“Till . . .”
“Come on. I want to hear what he has to say about my daughter.” He turned away from me, halting any further conversation.
I became instantly worried that Till had joined me on the freak-out train. I threw my clothes on as he stood with his back toward me, but I could see his eyes focused on the pictures in his hand. As I got close, I reached out and traced a hand down his shoulder. He caught my arm and spun, wrapping it around his neck.
“We’re gonna have a baby,” he choked out with that a one-sided grin of Till the boy. I was transported in time to the moment I’d fallen in love with him.
“I want to buy a house with a big yard. I want to put a huge swing set out back and get one of those stupid tea sets.”
I pushed my hands in front of the paper and signed, I kinda want a boy.
His eyes snapped to mine.
“One with your hazel eyes and that crooked grin.”
“No way. She needs to be smart like you.”
“No way. He needs to have your heart,” I countered.
“We’re having a baby,” he repeated, but it wasn’t said with happiness or even fear. It was said with pride and victory. “When I first lost my hearing, I stayed awake one night freaking out about the fact that our kids might have to deal with this one day.” He pointed to his ears. “But, Eliza, who cares? Look how perfect she is.” He held the picture up.
“Till, listen to me. He—”
He narrowed his eyes.
“—won’t ever have to experience this. Quarry either. They can get the implant. You’ve shouldered this for everyone. You wanted to give us all a better life. And you’ve done it. We aren’t millionaires, but we’ve made it. The only question now is: When does Till get the better life?”
Chapter Thirty
Till
“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?” SLATE asked as soon I walked into his office.
“Seen what?” I replied.
He turned his laptop around to face me, and I immediately recognized the still preview. It was the setup of amateur night at On The Ropes. He pressed play and I watched myself rise from the corner stool. My eyes were glaring across the ring.
I leaned in close to the computer and could barely make out Eliza seated with Derrick Bailey at her side. His arm was around the back of her chair, and even though I knew it had been well over two years since that night, the same rage bubbled in my stomach. Both on the screen and in the present, I watched Eliza until Rick “The Brick Wall” Matthews rush toward me.
I saw my attention only leave her long enough to step forward and throw two punches—which dropped Matthews to the mat. I didn’t even stay to celebrate my win. I simply stormed back to the corner and started pulling off my gloves. I could still feel my desperation to get her away from him. Justified desperation.
The video suddenly cut off, and I looked up at Slate as I arrogantly dusted off my shoulder. He let out a silent laugh.
“I woke to a million phone calls and emails this morning. This thing has been viewed over a million times in twenty-four hours.”
“Nice!” I smiled and pressed play again.
“People are going nuts trying to find out more about the only man to ever drop The Brick Wall.”
I lifted my eyebrows in shock. “Really?”
“His balls are aching.”
“I can’t blame him.” I watched as he once again crumbled while I walked away unfazed.
“He has built an empire on the fact that no one can knock him out.”
I rolled my eyes and pressed play again. Each time, only watching her.
Slate shoved a hand in front of the screen. “Apparently, he’s catching a lot of shit over this little video. It was played on a loop on ESPN last night while he was on a phone interview.”
My eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”
He wants a rematch.
Time froze.
Dollar signs flashed.
My smile grew.
“I told him to go fuck himself.”
I jumped to my feet. “Why?” I yelled. “Call him back!”
“No title on the line and they want to pay you shit. You made more at your last fight.”
I rolled my bottom lip between my fingers. “Can we negotiate pay? How big of a fight are we talking? Vegas?”
“Potentially. His image is hurting. They are going to want to make this huge. Listen to me. They are trying to use you like a bum to save his reputation, and if you lose, that is exactly what you will become.”
But what Slate couldn’t possibly know was that, in the span of twenty-four hours, my priorities had dramatically shifted.
“Eliza’s pregnant,” I blurted.
Slate’s jaw dropped open as his mouth formed a shocked “O.”
“We went to the doctor yesterday, and I. . . .” I paused because it was the first time I was going to admit my decision. I hadn’t even told Eliza yet. Up until that moment, saying it out loud had seemed too final. “They did this little ultrasound, and I couldn’t hear her heartbeat. I realized that I wouldn’t be able to hear her cry, or laugh, or talk.” I stopped to give myself time to let it really sink in. “All I can think about is what if she sounds like Eliza. Slate, I can’t miss that. You told me a while back that money is only as good as what it can give you. Well, it’s official. The incentive is no longer worth the sacrifice.” I sucked in a deep breath and finally threw in the towel. “I want the implant.”
“Okay,” he said as if it were nothing.
And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was the logical choice I had been fighting all along.
“I’ve got some money in the bank, but it won’t last. I need this fight, Slate. My career is over, win or lose. Bum or champ, I don’t give a damn.”
“So, that’s it? You just want the cash?”
I shook my head. “No. I need it. I have no clue what the fuck I’m going to do after this. I don’t have an education or any great skill besides manual labor. I need this opportunity to set me up for a while. See what you can negotiate for pay. I’l
l fight a dancing bear at this point as long as they put my name on a fat check.”
“What if we take a different approach?”
“Does your different approach allow me to hear my daughter when she’s born?”
“No. But it will give you a long-term solution.”
“Just spit it out,” I bit out as I began to lose my patience.
“We refuse to step in that ring unless he puts the title on the line.”
“He’ll never agree to that. He has too much to lose.”
“Then we force his hand.”
I tilted my head in confusion and motioned for him to continue.
“If he’s already catching enough heat from this video to offer a rematch, let’s add some fuel to that fire. Let’s hit the media. We do a press release to tell the entire world how easy it truly is to crumble the invincible wall. Make it known that he won’t give you a shot at his belt because he’s scared of The Silencer. We’ll set you up some interviews and let the world get to know Till Page. We can make the public beg for this fight.”
“I can do that,” I answered as I mulled over the possible scenarios.
“But this is going to take time.”
“Time is the one thing I don’t have.”
“When’s Eliza due?”
“Seven months.”
“I need you to commit to one more year.”
“A year?”
“It’s two fights. We’re going to shame this asshole into offering up that title, and you’re taking it from him. Then you’re defending it. Then you’re getting the implant.”
“Let’s assume I beat him. How much could I make in the next fight as the defending champion?”
“Millions.”
The sound of his word never made it to my ears, but I heard it all the same. It was the crystal-clear ringing of a lifetime of security.
“Set it up,” I breathed.
Slate clapped his hands together and jumped to his feet while I sat dazed counting dollars in my head. Millions of dollars.
I sat with sweaty palms for hours as Slate made numerous phone calls between agents, attorneys, managers, and even trainers. In the end, going to the media wasn’t even necessary. When Slate told them that we would be willing to make concessions on pay in exchange for a title shot, they pounced. Considering the instantaneous hype of the fight, it would reel in at least thirty million, and with less than three hundred thousand dollars written into my contract, it would all go to Matthews.
It was well worth the gamble though. They had no plans to pay me anything substantial for that fight, but with the title on the line, the dollar signs were infinite.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eliza
Four months later . . .
“HOLY. SHIT.” QUARRY SPUN WITH his arms stretched wide in the middle of our Las Vegas suite. Then he lost his balance and almost plowed me over.
“Hey, dumbass.” Flint caught him by the back of his shirt at the last second. “Watch where the hell you’re going!”
“My bad.” Quarry patted my stomach then excitedly went back to dancing around the room.
“Christ. What did you pack, Eliza?” Till huffed then set down my three huge suitcases. “And what the hell is that?” He pointed to the small, pink bag with a pink B monogrammed on the side.
“It’s Blakely’s bag—” I replied, and he captured my hands before I had a chance to completely finish signing my explanation.
“Our unborn daughter, Blakely?” He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.
“You can’t be too safe, Till. What if I suddenly go into labor while we are here? What would she wear home from the hospital?”
“Well . . . we’re only gonna be here for seven days. If you went into labor, she would be three months early. We’d have way bigger issues than what she would wear home from the hospital.” He winked and dipped me back for a wet kiss.
“Hey, I quit my job to be here. Don’t you dare get all snippy about what I packed.”
His lips twitched. “You hated that job.”
“No. I didn’t hate it.”
His smile grew to full-blown.
“I loathed it! Thank you.” I pressed an exaggerated, humor-filled kiss to his mouth.
He laughed against my lips. “I love you.”
“I was nervous about the flight, okay? It made me feel better to have a little bag for her just in case.”
He teasingly pretended to bite at my hands as I signed.
“Stop!” I hit his chest.
“Um, I said I love you.” He kissed my forehead.
“Oh, right. I briefly forgot how needy you are,” I teased. “I love you too.”
Till began tickling me, and when I looked up, I caught Flint watching us. He smiled and quickly looked away. I made a note to talk to him later. He’d really been acting off recently, even more withdrawn than usual.
There was a knock at the door, and Quarry darted over to answer it.
“Dude, you are huge!”
Slate laughed as he walked in with Leo, Johnson, and a new guy I didn’t recognize. But Quarry was right. He was huge.
“Okay. Listen up!” Slate’s lip twitched, and Till shook his head at his attempted joke. “Leo’s running security for all of us this weekend. I know you’ve seen the hype, but this isn’t going to be like it is at home. You guys are celebrities here. You will be recognized. ”
Till moved behind me and folded his arms around to rest on my stomach.
“Do not leave this room without security. Period. This is Alex Pearson. He’s been with Leo for about a year, but this is his first trip with us. Please don’t scare him off. I’m talking to you, Q.”
We all laughed, except for Quarry, who smiled mischievously.
“I will repeat. Do not leave this room without one of them.” He passed us all a card. “Program all of their numbers into your phones. Leo will be with me and Till most of the time, but Alex and Johnson are all yours if you want to go out exploring or whatever. Erica will be here this weekend, along with Sarah and Liv.”
“Liv!” Quarry shouted before slapping a hand over his mouth.
Leo’s lip twitched, but he glared down at Q. “I’m watching you, boy.”
Quarry bit his lip, but his smile showed past it.
“Okay. Now that we have that out of the way, Till, get dressed. Let’s go check out the gym.”
Slate walked out, leaving Leo, Alex, and Johnson to chat with Flint. Quarry went back to flittering around the suite.
“You want to go out to dinner tonight?” Till asked me.
I pointedly looked down at my stomach. “Like I’m gonna say no.”
He smiled then pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
“Eliza, look! There’s a kitchen! You can cook for us here too!” Quarry shouted from over the bar dividing the rooms.
I rolled my eyes, but my smile snuck out, giving me away.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Quarry
One Week Later . . .
“QUINN.”
“No.”
“Queen.”
“God no.”
“Quillan.”
“Uhhhh . . . I’m pretty sure you made that one up, so I’m going to stick with my original answer. No,” Eliza said, shooting me down for the hundredth time.
“Come on!”
“While I appreciate your efforts, we already picked a name.”
“Blakely is stupid though. Everyone will end up calling her Blake for short. Q is a badass nickname.”
“It’s also your nickname. Trust me. I don’t need to yell ‘Q’ any more than I already do. I can’t handle two of you.” She laughed as she scraped the mushrooms she had been slicing into a pan on the stove.
“Oh, whatever. What are you cooking anyway?”
“Hell if I know. Mushrooms just sounded really good.”
“Plain mushrooms?” I curled my lip as I settled on the barstool across from her.
“Yep!”
“Yo
u’re disgusting.” I laughed just as someone knocked on the door. “Oh! I bet that’s our The Silencer T-shirts for the fight.”
“God, I hope! They were supposed to be here yesterday.”
I yanked the front door open, and a well-dressed man I didn’t recognize stood on the other side. His hands were shoved in his pockets of his jacket, and a bright, white smile covered his face.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Till. Is he around?”
“Nope.”
“Perfect,” he purred as he slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets, revealing a massive, green tattoo with the head of a dragon shooting red flames down his fingers—the same fingers that were poised on the trigger of a gun. “Quarry, I presume?” He used the tip of his gun to push me inside.
As the door clicked behind us, I heard Eliza from the kitchen.
“Who was it?” she asked just as we rounded the corner.
I didn’t even have a chance to react before his arm quickly looped around my neck to rest the gun at my temple. Her eyes popped wide and her hands flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
I was in absolute shock. I didn’t know this guy, but I was terrified—and not for myself.
“It’s okay.” I tried to soothe her as my heart slammed around in my chest.
“Who the fuck are you?!” the piece shit spoke to her, and it enraged me.
“Um, who are you?” Her shoulders moved as if she were searching the counter, but the bar blocked our view of her body.
“Get your fucking hands up!” he barked.
It caused her chin to quiver and rage to radiate through me.
“Eliza,” she answered slowly, lifting her hands in surrender.
“Okay. Now, Eliza. Who the hell are you and where the fuck is Till Page?” He turned the gun on her.
Even through my blinding fury, I knew that she did not need to answer that question.
“She’s my babysitter. Till’s at the gym.” I quickly covered, praying to fuck he thought thirteen-year-olds still needed babysitters.
“Okay. Well, Eliza, this could actually work out. I need you to deliver a message to our good pal Till. Call him and let him know that Frankie Dragon stopped by to close out some unfinished business. It’s imperative that he gets this message. Do you understand?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was downright menacing.
