by Aly Martinez
I had still been signing to him as he rushed out the door—a brisk kiss on the lips my only acknowledgement.
So freaking weird.
I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, stuck in my ponderings of the great mystery known as Quarry Page, when I decided sleep was a lost cause. The sun was still well below the horizon, and only the soft, white rays of a nightlight illuminated the room.
Quarry had purchased it for his room a few weeks earlier. I hadn’t asked him to buy it. Nor had I asked him to buy and sync a secondary iPod just to keep on a docking station on his nightstand. He’d done it though. Because he’d worried I might be scared. Of course, he hadn’t come right out and told me that. But I knew.
I was a twenty-three-year-old woman who still slept with music and a nightlight. It wasn’t exactly my most redeeming quality, but Quarry had never made me feel like it was a flaw, either. He knew all about my past. He’d once used it against me. But, most recently, he’d used his knowledge to make me feel safer than ever before.
An odd feeling slid over me—it wasn’t exactly a chill, but it still made me shiver.
If I really thought about it, over the years, Quarry had always taken care of me.
Even while he had been with Mia, he’d still made me a priority in his life. Sure, he had done the mandatory job of taking care of his girlfriend’s best friend when the three of us had hung out. But it had always been more than that. He had been my friend just as much as Mia had. I hadn’t been the third wheel or the annoying girl who wouldn’t give them time alone. He’d gone out of his way to spend time with me. Maybe not alone, out of respect for Mia, but he’d made sure I was never left out. He’d bought me the required birthday and Christmas gifts, but he’d also changed my tire when I got a flat and taken me to the dentist when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, and as a newly (practically) widowed twenty-year-old, he had opened his spare bedroom to me because I’d been too scared to go home.
He’d been handling me with care my entire life.
As hard as it was to admit, I had to let go of the past with Quarry. His actions the day he’d locked me in the closet had been those of a shattered child.
Unfortunately, it had still changed us though.
But not all change had to be bad.
Maybe we needed to change.
Maybe I needed to change.
I just didn’t know how. I hadn’t exactly been born into a life where I could afford to trust blindly. My mother had been a druggy, and her boyfriends, pimps, dealers—whatever they were—had been cruel. None of them had hit me, leaving scars for the world to see. No, their weapons of choice had been much subtler: words.
Eighteen years later, I could still hear the detailed threats of what would happen to me if I came out of my room at night.
Those were the scars my childish body had never had to bear. Yet they had been so deeply etched into my subconscious that my adult mind still couldn’t process the fear I’d felt back then.
I’d told everyone that I was afraid of the silence because of the night my mother had died.
It hadn’t been a lie.
It hadn’t been the complete truth though, either.
I was terrified of being alone.
Scary things had happened while I’d been alone in that bedroom.
Her drug-induced, manic laughter.
Her screams—some in pain, some in pleasure.
The worst had been when the sounds would disappear though.
Was it over or just beginning?
The silence.
The only defense mechanism I’d had at that age was to spend as much time as possible at our neighbor’s house. She wasn’t particularly a kind old woman, but she adored reading to me from her Bible. Her lessons were usually only good to inform me of the terrible sins my mother committed each day. I could overlook that though. I just liked the company. The interaction. The safety.
She quickly took it upon herself to teach me how to read from her Bible. I hated it, but for those hours, I’d sit next to her in a chair, forcing myself to sound out words I didn’t understand, just so I didn’t have to go home.
After my mother died, my struggle to trust only amplified. So much so that even a relationship with my father was difficult at first. He was so nice to me, but I feared the moment that would change. I did the only thing I could think of: I showed him a little girl who was easy to love, not the troubled tomboy that existed below the surface.
When Quarry entered my life, he wasn’t a man. And I immediately opened myself up to him. In hindsight, my heart had been too fragile to give to an equally troubled ten-year-old boy. But maybe that’s exactly why I’d given it to him in the first place. The quiet storm brewing in those hazel eyes had been so familiar that I’d instantly felt a connection.
And there I was, lying in his bed, staring at his ceiling, after he had spent years trying to put me back together, most recently by offering me the few remaining shards of his own heart to fill in the lost pieces of my own.
In many ways, I was still that lost little girl—too scared to trust but too terrified of being alone.
I closed my eyes and allowed the countless memories of our past to filter through me.
All the times he’d been there for me, even when he, himself, had been barely breathing.
All the times the lights had been left on and the music had been left blaring all night long.
And, last but not least, I finally realized that maybe I really had always trusted Quarry Page, no matter what I’d told myself. I’d been hiding my feelings and guarding myself my entire life. I shouldn’t have given my heart to Quarry the boy. But, without question, I was ready to give it back to the man.
And then I promptly had a panic attack.
But, when that was over, I threw the covers back, got dressed, and set out to the gym to watch my sexy boxer work out before officially introducing him to my father as my boyfriend.
* * *
The gym was still dark when I pulled up. I drove around to the back parking lot only to find it vacant. My watch read six a.m. Even if he had stopped to grab some breakfast instead of his usual protein shake at the gym, he should have been there. I snagged my phone off the passenger’s seat and sent him a quick text.
Me: Where ya at?
His reply came almost immediately.
Quarry: I’m about to get in the ring… You okay?
I got out of my car and checked up and down the street. His Porsche was pretty hard to miss though, and as suspected, I came up empty.
I racked my brain, trying to remember if there was possibly anywhere else he could have been getting in the ring, but like before, I came up empty again.
Me: I’m fine. Are you at the gym?
Quarry: Yeah, babe. You need something? I need to get my gloves on.
My heart sank, and the backs of my eyes stung.
But my fingers didn’t move to type my reply. I could only blink at the screen.
I reread his message a dozen times, and each time I typed a different response. Some were concerned. Some were snarky. And, admittedly, some were even jealous.
I deleted them all.
This was Quarry. He didn’t lie to me.
Me: What gym?
Quarry: My gym. Do you NEED something? I have to go.
My nose burned, and my stomach wrenched. I was so confused that I didn’t even know what conclusion to jump to. And, God, did I want to jump to some conclusions. My mind raced with a million different scenarios. Some good, like maybe he was planning another over-the-top date for us. Some bad, like he was having an early morning breakfast with one of his random girls he’d sleep with after fights. Some really bad, like maybe he was having second thoughts about us and needed some time alone to figure out a way to let me down easy.
It had to be something big though. Quarry Page was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. I decided not to beat around the bush.
Me: Yes. I need to know why the hell you’re lying to
me.
Quarry: About what?
I laughed, not finding one single solitary thing funny. Quickly losing my patience with the entire exchange, I clicked out of my messages and dialed his number. My anxiety was climbing rapidly in expectation of a straight answer.
Panic hit me like a brick wall when I got his voicemail.
My phone pinged in my hand almost immediately.
Quarry: Text. I don’t have my hearing aids in. I’m about to get in the ring!
I was already clinging by a thread to sanity, but that damn exclamation point pushed me right over the edge. Clenching my teeth, I quickly typed another message.
I should have deleted it.
I hit send.
Me: You fucking liar!
Quarry: Excuse me?
Me: You have two seconds to tell me the truth.
Quarry: About what? And for the record, you call me a fucking liar again, I’m turning my goddamn phone off.
Yeah, that just infuriated me even more. He was lying to me. He didn’t get to make the threats.
Me: Wow! Wouldn’t that be convenient for you? You know, FOR THE RECORD, you jump out of bed with me, lie to me about where you are, and then threaten to turn your phone off…a girl can get certain ideas.
Quarry: Oh yeah, Rocky? What the fuck kinda ideas you getting?
Me: Tell me where you are?
Quarry: No, I’d really rather hear about these ideas. Because it sounds a hell of a lot like you’re accusing me of something.
Me: Where are you?
Quarry: I was supposed to be getting into the ring, but now I’m standing here fighting with my girl like a pussy-whipped punk.
My hands were shaking, and I was fighting back tears. Quarry and I didn’t fight. We bickered. We made fun of each other. I rolled my eyes at him. I made fun of him. He laughed at me. This entire exchange was not how we communicated. It was different, and not in a good way.
Me: Look at us. You promised me we wouldn’t change. You PROMISED me.
I was typing another message to tell him that I was at On The Ropes when his incoming FaceTime lit my phone up.
“What’s going on?” he asked before the picture came into view. His voice was stilted, but not angry.
I turned the phone to the On The Ropes sign as my answer.
When I looked back at the screen, he was sporting an endearing grin. “Ah, well, I’m not at that gym, Rocky.” He lifted his phone and did a quick spin, showing a small gym barely big enough to hold a ring and a few hanging bags.
“I can see that,” I signed with one hand.
He chuckled. “I need you to trust me right now.”
I used the corner of my T-shirt to wipe under my eyes. “I’m trying!” I exclaimed.
He read my lips. “Well, try harder.”
I rolled my eyes. If he only knew.
“Now, stop freaking out. Hang up. I’m gonna send you an address. Come straight here. And I’m gonna warn you: You’re probably going to freak when you get here, but take a deep breath and do it anyway.” He smiled teasingly. “Stop crying, crazy. We’re good.” His dimple danced on the screen, easing my nerves.
I nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Hurry up. I have an asshole to kill in two months. I actually do need to work out today.” He laughed before ending the call.
I was still trying to collect myself when my phone pinged with an address.
I recognized it immediately.
Quarry had been wrong; I didn’t even need to arrive before I started freaking out again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Quarry
IT WAS COLD AS BALLS, but I was sitting on the front steps when her car pulled through the security gate I’d left open. The last few weeks had been a crazy roller coaster of emotions, and this moment right here was either going to be the highest of highs or yet another terrifying low. Who the hell knew with Liv though? She’d been all over the place recently. I never would have guessed that she would have flipped out the way she had when she’d realized I wasn’t at On The Ropes. The jealous bit was usually my thing. And that was the only reason I’d calmed down while we had been texting. I hated the way she’d reacted. But I fucking loved the idea of Liv getting all cavewoman possessive over me. I would have acted way worse if I’d thought she was lying to me, so I had to cut her some slack.
Plus, it’d damn near broken me when she’d called me out on the nothing-changes-between-us promise I’d made her. I refused to fail on the very first test, even if it meant spilling a secret I’d been hiding for several years.
When she cut the engine, I stood up and walked over to her. Pulling her door open, I found her just as I’d expected—scared as fuck. It made me an asshole, but I laughed.
“Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that,” I said. Taking her hand, I helped her from the car.
“This isn’t the gym,” she said, craning her head back to look into my eyes.
Throwing an arm around her shoulders, I curled her into my side and strolled up the front steps. “Nope.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief until I pushed the front door open.
Then she got all kinds of stiff.
Her hands flew to her mouth, and she gasped my name.
The house was a fucking mess. My shit was everywhere. Boxes upon boxes of products my sponsors had sent over sat unopened in the massive foyer. One side of the split staircase was lined with my shoes that no longer fit in my closet at our apartment. The other side served as a filing cabinet for all the paperwork, news clippings, and fan mail I didn’t know what to do with. I had a cleaning lady who came in every two weeks, but even she didn’t know how to organize a virtually empty six-point-four-million-dollar house that was being used as nothing more than a glorified storage unit.
“Soooo.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I was kinda hoping to get things cleaned up before showing you this place.”
Her face had paled. “Did…did you buy this?”
Pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, I mumbled nervously, “I did. You still like it?”
She quickly stepped out from under my arm, heading directly to the huge living room that ran the length of the house, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the large backyard nestled against a private lagoon. It was the room she couldn’t stop talking about when we’d first looked at the place years earlier. I swear she and the realtor had fully decorated that room before we’d even stepped foot into the rest of the place.
When I’d first walked into that house, I’d had zero intentions of buying it. It was nearly twice what I’d wanted to spend and about ten times bigger than I’d ever need. It was a home in every sense of the word. The kind you raised a family in. The kind Till had bought for Eliza the minute he’d had the money. The kind Flint had bought for Ash even while she had still been running away from him. The kind a bachelor like me had no business even looking at.
But, for some inexplicable reason, after I’d seen Liv’s excitement as she’d raced from one end to the other, sucking the oxygen out of each room as she’d oh’d and ah’d, I’d put in an offer the same night.
I had been confident when I’d bought the place, but now, watching her exploring the room—running her hand over the back of our old couch, which appeared miniscule in the massive space—I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“When?” she whispered.
I drew in a sharp breath. “Two years ago.”
Her confused eyes immediately lifted to mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried. Remember when we came to look at it a second time and I asked you which bedroom you’d pick?”
Her hand slapped over her mouth, and her face turned sad in understanding. “Oh, God. You’d already bought it?”
I nodded. “Yep. I’d signed the contracts not even an hour before you informed me you weren’t moving into a house with me.” I laughed at the memory. “You said it would be weird for us to continue living together…especially after I�
�d bought a house. Funny thing is I’ve only recently realized that ‘it’s weird’ is your go-to phrase when you freak out. If I’d known back then, I would have pushed harder.”
“It would’ve been weird.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Says the woman who’s still freaking out.”
She rolled her eyes and then moved to the windows at the far end of the room. “Living in an apartment together was one thing, but buying a house together. Quarry, it was too much.”
After following her to the windows, I stopped at her side but shoved my hand in my pocket to keep from looping it around her waist. “It wasn’t too much for us. It was too much for you.”
Her voice was thick with regret. “That’s probably the truth.”
An awkward silence fell between us, and I swiftly pulled my phone out and turned a playlist on. Propping it on the edge of the window, I gave her the time she needed to process it all. But I didn’t allow her to do it in silence.
Her face turned soft, and her hand caught my elbow, tugging my hand from my pocket before intertwining our fingers in unspoken gratitude.
We must have stood in front of that window for at least ten minutes. Watching her closely out of the corner of my eye, I squeezed her hand reassuringly when I felt her emotions build.
Finally, she asked the window, “Why didn’t you leave? You bought this gorgeous house but spent the last two years in a cheap two-bedroom apartment.”
“You,” I told the same window.
She shook her head and dropped her chin to her chest. “That’s insane.”
It wasn’t. Not knowing what I knew now. I might not have been fighting the need to strip Liv naked all those years ago, but I’d loved her all the same. And living without her hadn’t been an option.
I cleared my throat and sighed. “I couldn’t sleep that night. As naïve as it sounds, I’d never actually stopped to consider the possibility that you wouldn’t move with me when we started house shopping. You were—are—a huge part of my life. I was still in a bad place back then, and I wasn’t sure I could do it on my own.”
