by Aly Martinez
He arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask your parents before driving all the way down here?”
Damn. I really should have let my mom finish.
“I was worried,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes.
It only caused one side of his mouth to tip up. “Right. Well, I’m glad. I’ve missed the fuck out of you too. I seriously need the cardio. I haven’t run a punishment lap in years.” He poked my side.
I’ll be damned if he didn’t remember exactly the right spot to poke, too.
“Stop!” I laughed against my will, swatting his hand away.
When I looked back up, Quarry was watching me with a solemn expression.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Liv.”
“Yeah,” I replied, becoming enthralled with my shoes.
It was easier to be mad than truly entertain an apology from him. I did miss him though. I just didn’t trust him.
“We cool?” he asked.
I wasn’t a liar, either. So, as much as I would have liked to let him off the hook, I couldn’t. Instead, I answered, “I don’t know, Q.”
He twisted his lips in a grimace. “Okay, well, are we coolish?”
“How about this—we’re cooler.”
His eyes lit with hope. “I’ll take it.” He smiled wide, and my mouth was helpless not to follow suit. “How long are you in town for?”
I shrugged. “Um…probably just the night.”
“Hey, Flint’s picking me up in a few minutes. We’re supposed to be meeting up with Till and Eliza for dinner. You think your mom would let you come with us?”
“She drove me three hours on a whim to see you, Q. I’m relatively sure she wouldn’t have a problem with me having dinner with the Page family.”
“Sweet. Wait until you see the van Flint drives. It’s seriously pimp in that ‘Hey, little girl, you want some candy?’ way.”
“So what you’re saying is I should jump from the van screaming for help when we get to the restaurant?”
His eyes grew wide with excitement before he pulled me into a hug. “I’m so fucking glad you’re back. I’m thinking I should go ahead and run, like, twelve miles to bank up some laps in advance.”
I was frozen.
Quarry Page was hugging me.
Shirtless.
Front to front.
We were suddenly getting a lot more than coolish. Actually, with his firm body pressed against me, I was becoming hotish.
I laughed awkwardly. “Probably not a bad idea.” Neither is climbing into a cold shower, Liv.
Releasing me, he stepped back as his mouth cracked into an epic smile. I had never known that something so beautiful existed. My heart raced, and I found myself unable to drag my eyes away. That is, until I realized that it wasn’t aimed at me.
Hi, he signed with his gaze directed over my shoulder.
That was the third time Quarry Page broke my heart.
This time, he didn’t actually do anything at all, but it still shattered all the same.
Glancing behind me, I saw a girl with a pixie cut and a bold stripe of pink through her sweeping bangs. She was pretty—there was no denying that. But, given her tattered skinny jeans, clingy vintage tee, and a pair of Chuck Taylors, I wouldn’t have considered her any competition. The kind of guys who went for girls like her didn’t go for my style of dresses and heels.
Which was exactly why my heart broke.
When she signed, Who the fuck is she? I realized she was the type of girl Quarry went for.
Looking back at Q, I caught him signing, Chill.
My head flipped back and forth as they carried on a conversation as if I were invisible—while part of me wished I were.
Not until you tell me why I just walked in and found you dry-humping some preppy bitch.
Clearly she’d noticed how different we were as well.
She’s not a bitch, and we were hugging. That’s hardly dry-humping, he shot back, completely immune to her death-stare.
I wasn’t positive if the sign language was for her benefit or his, so I decided to both sign and speak as I stepped toward her. “Hi. I’m Liv.”
I extended a hand, but her eyes remained glued to Q.
“Maybe I should go,” I said out loud to Quarry.
He too ignored me.
“Mia, this is my old friend, Rocky. Rock, this is my insanely jealous, well…really just insane-in-general girlfriend, Mia.” He smiled patronizingly. Without talking, he signed, There. Now you gonna drop your attitude and get over here and kiss me?
Her attention finally snapped to me. Raking her eyes over me, she signed, I thought you two weren’t friends anymore.
She knew about me. Interesting.
Quarry sauntered in her direction, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head. “Well, now, we are. She’s going to dinner with us too, so be nice.”
Suddenly, I wanted to go to that dinner about as much as I wanted to pay full retail for the Louboutins I was saving up for.
“You know, maybe I should take a rain check. I’d hate for my mom to eat dinner alone. She did just drive me here and everything.”
“Bullshit. She’ll be with Erica. You’re going,” Quarry said. “And you’ll need to sign because Mia’s the real kind of deaf. Not the fake kind like me.” He winked.
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.
Chapter Six
Liv
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.
Chapter Seven
Quarry
“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 goi
ng 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.
