by Aly Martinez
God, I missed her.
“Ash!” I tried the door again, surprisingly finding it unlocked. When I swung it open, I found her wearing nothing more than a teasing smirk.
“Orrrr . . . we could have shower sex.”
“Or we could have shower sex,” I confirmed, slamming the door behind me.
It was a much better plan.
BE NICE TO ELIZA.
Be nice to Eliza.
Be.
Nice.
To.
Eliza.
“Hey, I was waiting for you,” she said, pulling me into a hug as soon as we walked into the crowded gym. I went stiff—until Flint slid his hand down my back and squeezed my ass.
“Hi!” I chirped, swatting his hand away.
She released me and slapped Flint on the chest. “You’re late.”
He tipped his head to me. “Her fault. And before you ask . . . don’t.” He tossed her a wink.
“Ewww,” she cried then turned to look at me. “No offense.”
I laughed. “None taken.”
“Well, you better get back there. Till’s been stomping around for some reason. I’d way rather you handle that than me.”
“Fantastic,” he deadpanned. “Hang on. I need to introduce Ash to someone first.”
Eliza looked at me. “I saved you a seat.” She pointed to the front row with reserved signs taped to the backs of the chairs. “Just come find me when you’re done.”
My body relaxed as I watched her walk away.
Flint leaned down and whispered into my ear, “She likes you.”
“Oh goodie,” I snarked, causing him to chuckle.
Lifting a crutch, he pointed to a door marked Gym Staff Only. “Come on.”
I followed him as he skillfully navigated through the crowd. I wasn’t sure how he did it. I was only using two legs and bumped into more people than he did.
He led me into a large, open office that branched off into three other offices. Two of them could be seen through the glass windows that overlooked the gym, and once I’d seen the names listed on the door, I understood why.
The one on the left sported the On The Ropes logo above the words Former Heavyweight Champion of the World, Slate “The Silent Storm” Andrews.
The door on the right had the words The Silencer cut out of a sound wave with the title Former Heavyweight Champion of the World, Till Page.
But it was the door at the back that really caught my attention: Head of On The Ropes Sports Management, Flint Page.
I looked up at him, and his prideful smile matched mine.
“That’s really fucking cool.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal.” His smile spread.
I pressed up onto my toes to kiss his cheek. “Liar.”
He laughed and pulled a key from his pocket. After unlocking the door, he flipped the light on, not surprisingly revealing a clean and clutter-free desk with three shelves packed with books behind it. A laptop sat on one side, and with the exception of a picture frame and a piece of brick, the rest of the desk was empty.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” He kissed the top of my head then left.
I chose to sit in his chair behind the desk. Tracing my fingers over the wooden desk, I wondered if he had ever sat in that same spot and thought about me. Just the idea warmed me.
I discovered that the picture frame held a photo of Flint in the boxing ring. He was mid punch, and judging from his opponent’s face at the point of impact, it was a knockout. I smiled to myself as I saw him standing without the aid of his crutches for the very first time. Sure, Flint could take a step or two on his own, but that picture was different. He was strong and fierce. And it left me wondering if that version of Flint would have been so hell-bent on being with a girl like me.
Thankfully, before I got lost in my imagination, Flint interrupted me.
“It’s from the building.”
“Huh?” I looked up to find him leaning against the doorjamb.
“The brick. It’s from the building you vandalized the first night we got together.”
I picked it up and spun it around. It was no bigger than an apple, but I could still clearly make out a yellow stripe of paint on one side.
I heard his four-beat gait approach, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the brick.
“I have no idea if that’s a mark you made or someone else, but the day after they tore it down, I had Quarry hop the fence and steal it for me.”
“I . . . I was still here when they tore it down,” I stuttered, glancing up just as he sat down on the corner of his desk.
He took the brick from my hand and set it down. Then he snagged my arm and tugged me against his side. I went willingly, resting my head on his shoulder as he folded his arms around my waist.
“Yeah, but even then, I was trying to hold on to you.”
I melted into his arms.
All. The. Feels.
“Stop talking,” I mumbled against his neck.
His hands teased under the back of my shirt. “What? That wasn’t even dirty.”
Just as I was about to ask for something dirty, a loud and strangely familiar voice boomed into the room.
“I swear to God I hope that boy gave you hell for that stunt you pulled.”
My head popped up, and a half laugh, half gasp escaped my throat. “Max!” I cried, scrambling from Flint’s embrace.
In a pair of jeans that had probably never seen the dirt and a black On The Ropes collared shirt, Max glared at me from the doorway. He was pissed . . . and I couldn’t have cared less. I rushed over and threw my arms around his neck.
“Oh my God! What are you doing here?” I asked when he released me.
“Me? I work here. What the hell are you doing?”
I spun around to Flint, who was watching us with an amused grin. “He works here?”
He shrugged and crossed his thick arms over his chest.
I looked back at Max. “You have a job?”
“Yep. Your boyfriend there got me the gig not long after you left. Donna too.”
“Donna! Where is she?” My eyes jumped to the door.
“Oh, she’s not here, baby girl. She shacked up with Slate’s old boxing trainer. She lives in L.A. now.”
“No. Fucking. Way,” I breathed.
“Yep. Jimmy’s a good guy, dotes on her like she’s the Queen of Sheba. She’s still cranky as hell, so brace yourself for when she finds out you’re back. Let’s just say she is not happy with you.”
I laughed. “Was she ever happy with me?”
“Nope.” He shook his head with a smile. “Listen, I’ve got to get back out there. I’m pulling security at the back door. We’ll catch up at dinner after the fight.”
“Okay.” I gave him another hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“You shouldn’t be. You and I are going to have a serious chat tonight about that running-off bullshit.”
I watched him leave then turned to find that Flint had shifted to his chair.
“You,” was all I said as I approached him.
He flipped his computer open, not bothering to look at me. “Me?”
“Wheels, I’m not sure what to say.”
He smiled at the screen.
“You got Max and Donna jobs?”
“It’s no big deal. They helped me search for you when you left. We became friends.”
I teasingly gasped, spinning his chair until he was facing me. “Judgey McGee became friends with two middle-aged, homeless people?”
He shrugged. “They’re good people despite their situation. Some chick with a knack for running away told me that.”
“She sounds awesome.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “She sounds like I’m gonna make her ass red tonight.”
I climbed to straddle his lap, briefly taking his mouth. “She sounds like she would love that.” I smiled and his mirrored mine.
“Get out of here. I have work to do.”
“Does yo
ur work involve me riding you in this chair?”
He barked out a laugh. “In twenty-four hours, I’ve turned you into a fiend.”
I latched on to his neck, trailing openmouthed kisses up to his ear. “No, you keep doing sweet stuff that makes me all tingly. I show my appreciation in the same way I apologize.”
“Fuck,” he cursed as I circled my hips over his hardening dick.
I was reaching down to his button when I heard Till’s angry voice behind me.
“You’re late! Oh . . . Shit. Sorry.”
Embarrassed, I buried my face in Flint’s neck, but he let out a loud laugh that had me joining him.
“No, it’s okay. I was about to come find you.” He guided me off his lap. “Ash is on her way to find Eliza.” He pecked me on the lips and nudged me from behind the desk.
“Right. Yes. Find Eliza,” I mumbled, smoothing my hair down.
Till lifted his chin toward Flint as I walked to the door. “You keeping that one in check?”
“I was trying,” I said sarcastically.
He bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “I can see.” He winked and shoved his hands in his pockets as I passed.
I made my way to the row of seats Eliza had pointed out earlier, finding then blissfully empty.
Ducking under the chain blocking them off, I heard, “Sorry, miss. Those are reserved for families of the fighters.”
I spun to find a big guy with dark hair and an olive complexion leaning over the railing. As soon as we made eye contact, his head snapped back and his eyes grew wide.
“Holy. Shit.”
“I’m here with—”
“Flint,” he finished for me. “Hi. I’m Leo James, Slate and Till’s head of security.” He extended a hand.
“Hi. I’m—”
“Ash Mabie.” He once again filled in the blank. “I’ve spent a lot of time looking for you.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to react. Was he mad?
I went with attitude. “Funny, I’ve heard that a lot.”
“I’m not going to lie. I’m a big fan of yours.”
It was my turn to snap my head back in shock. “Huh?”
“I hated it for Flint, but I was seriously impressed with how long you were able to elude us. You have no idea how many times we missed you by mere minutes. You’re good. Really fucking good.”
I tipped my head at the strange compliment. “Thanks?”
“I heard they found you, but I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
I blew out a breath. “Well, you aren’t the only one. Flint, however, can be quite persuasive.”
“He’s a good kid. Dealt a shit hand, but what all of those boys have done with their lives . . .” He paused and shook his head. “Anyway, it was great meeting you. Officially. Enjoy the fight.”
I groaned when I caught sight of Eliza approaching as he walked away. Leo paused to hug her before disappearing into the crowd.
“I see you’re making friends already,” Eliza noted as we both sat down. “Can I please just tell you how much I both love and hate fight nights? You would think after all these years that the nerves would be gone. Nope. I want to puke right now.”
I turned my head and mentally grumbled at her attempted conversation before reminding myself to be nice. “You’re nervous? About the fight?”
“Yeah. I have no idea why. I could watch Till and Flint box all day long, but Quarry makes me anxious. It doesn’t matter that he’s six foot three and two hundred pounds. He’s still twelve in my book.”
“He’s six foot three?” I shrieked.
Eliza giggled. “I’m gathering that you haven’t seen Q yet.”
I shook my head.
“Yeah. He’s all grown up. Bigger than Till, smaller than Flint. Same foul mouth though. He graduates from high school in a few months.”
“No fucking way.”
Quarry was one person I was stoked about seeing again. I’d missed that kid almost as much as I had Flint. Okay, not quite that much. But I thought about him a lot while I was gone.
“Listen, did Flint mention to you anything about Quarry’s condition?”
“Condition?”
“Yeah. He’s lost a good bit of his hearing over the years. He wears hearing aids when he’s out of the ring, and those seem to help, but we use a lot of sign language.”
“He’s deaf?” I gasped, and my face must have paled, because she reached out and squeezed my hand.
“No! He’s . . . just . . . heading in that direction,” she amended. “He can still hear some, and with his hearing aids, it’s significantly better. I’m only telling you this because tonight, at dinner, you’ll probably be the only one who doesn’t know sign. Sometimes, when the guys get going, they’ll forget to talk.”
I stared blankly ahead as the weight of having been on the run for the last three years sank in. “I can’t believe I missed all this,” I told her without looking in her direction. “First, it was Flint’s first steps. Now, Q’s deaf.”
“Oh, Flint’s first steps were no big deal.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I yelled entirely too loudly. “He told me the exact same thing. I’m sorry, but walking is a huge deal!”
She was sitting only a few inches away, but I’m relatively sure half the gym heard me.
“Shhh,” she urged, looking over her shoulder to see how many people had witnessed my sudden outburst. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ash. It’s just . . . His first steps weren’t a big deal. It was the day he put away the wheelchair for good that was so huge for him. That was the day he regained a part of his life. I went with him and Till when he donated his wheelchairs. I begged him to keep one—just in case, ya know? But he was adamant that he wanted them all gone. With the exception of this afternoon, I’ve never in my life seen Flint happier than that day when he walked back to the car wheelchair-free.”
With the exception of this afternoon.
I looked down at my lap as my cheeks began to flush.
Yeah, I was pretty happy this afternoon too.
“Besides, you should never listen to anything Flint says is no big deal. He graduated college in two years.” She threw up a pair of air quotes then said, “‘No big deal.’ He landed one of the biggest professional boxers on the scene his first week on the job.” More air quotes. “‘No big deal.’ The kid used a lump sum of money Till had given him as a graduation present to buy a house at twenty-two.” She looked at me.
“No big deal?” I guessed.
“Not to Flint.” She shrugged. “There has been exactly one ‘big deal’ as long as I’ve known him.” She leaned in close and reiterated. “One. Any guesses?”
Oh, I had a guess. I just wasn’t brave enough to utter it. I shook my head instead.
“You,” she whispered with a smile before her face shifted to serious. “Ash, you seem like a great girl, and I can’t wait to get to know you, but I’ll be very honest here. We’re all worried about how this is going to go down with you two. The reason we poured every resource we had into finding you is because if Flint thought you were a big deal, then it was infinitely bigger than that. It was the enormous, life-changing, forever kind of deal.”
My eyes glistened as I became fascinated with my shoes to hide the emotion her words were causing.
“I don’t know what to say,” I told the ground.
“Say that you’re serious about him.”
I could have said that. It would have been the truth. But for some reason, I had more important things to air out.
I lifted my head to stare into her kind eyes. “I hate you,” I told her.
“I know,” she replied, seemingly unfazed. “You made that pretty clear this afternoon.”
“Eliza, by all accounts, you’re only one step away from sainthood as far as the Page brothers are concerned. But knowing how he felt about you . . . I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but they were strange. She didn’t look like a woman who ha
d just been injured by words. She looked . . . happy.
“And I’m completely okay with that as long as you love him.”
Forget the one step. Sainthood has been achieved.
“I . . .” I opened my mouth just to close it again.
“Ash, when this conversation ends, I’m going back to pretending I don’t know how you feel about me. All I’m asking is that you truly consider how you feel about Flint before you shred him again over his misinterpreted feelings about me. I think of him as a son and nothing more.”
“It was never about the way you felt for him!” I snapped.
She bit right back, “Then let it go! Don’t punish the man for the thoughts of a boy.” Pausing, she flipped her long, brown hair and looked around to make sure no one was watching our quiet altercation. “When you took off, Flint was a mess. He over-rationalized how he felt about you. He couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with a sixteen-year-old girl he’d only known for a month. That shit didn’t happen in his guarded and square existence. But it did, Ash. Now, tell me that you share these feelings . . . even in the past. And you can go back to hating me all you want.”
I was taken aback by her honesty. I also respected the hell out of her for it.
And for that alone, I answered, “I’ve always been in love with Flint. It’s present tense for me.”
“Good,” she drawled on a breath.
I dropped my head and watched her from the corner of my eye as I said, “Which is exactly why I’m not sure I can stay.”
“I’m gonna do a quick time-out on you hating me.” She threw her arms around me in an awkward side hug. “I know Flint and it’s present tense for him too.” She squeezed me tight for several seconds then released me and reclined in her chair. “Time in,” she whispered.
Crossing her legs, she retrieved a sketchpad and pencil from her purse. She didn’t attempt to engage me in any further conversation as we waited for the fights to start. Instead, she silently drew an elaborate pair of eyes. I watched in awe as Flint’s long, black lashes came to life through the lines on her page. When she finished, she didn’t even lift her head to acknowledge me. She just tore the paper out and passed it over to me.
I eagerly took it. Those were Flint’s eyes, and they belonged to me—even if it was her hand that had drawn them.
