Fighting Silence

by Aly Martinez

  I watched from the floor as Till’s picture and stats flashed on the screen. My chest ached to get out of there and back to his side, but it pained me that he was losing his one shot at greatness. I should have been sitting ringside, giddy with excitement and hope. He should have been walking to that ring with his head held high and his determination firmly intact. We’d all lost though.

  “It’s about fucking time you got back. Did you bring me—What the fuck!” Frankie shouted, jumping to his feet as Flint came storming through the door. His blue eyes were dark and barbaric.

  Frankie rushed to the table where his gun was, but Flint was faster. Grabbing his throat, he slammed Frankie to the ground. Their tangled bodies knocked over the table, sending the gun tumbling across the carpeted floor. Flint didn’t say a single word as he landed punch after punch with his right hand. Each blow landed harder than the one before, but he never released his hold on Frankie’s throat. Flint’s knuckles turned white as Frankie’s face turned red.

  I scooted away as far as the door I was tied to would allow as Flint unleashed a savagery I had never witnessed before. I wanted to stop him. That brutal look didn’t belong on my Flint’s face, but I didn’t exactly belong tied to a door either. Frankie lay immobile underneath him, and with the threat gone, I really just wanted to get the hell out of there.

  “Flint!” I yelled, and his head snapped to mine.

  “Shit. Eliza.” He crawled over and patted down my stomach and sides, searching for injury. “Are you okay?”

  “Um . . . I want to go home.” I tried to choke back the sob, but it was a losing battle.

  Flint grabbed both sides of my face and tipped it down to kiss my forehead. “Then let’s get out of here.” He rose to his knees in front of me and went to work untying the knot at my wrist.

  Hope began to swell in my chest. We were so close to getting out of there. Everything was falling into place the way it was supposed to be. The cruel universe had given it a good shot, but the Page family had won in the final round. Till was in the ring, the roar of the crowd on the TV told me that much, and now that I was safe, he could actually have a fair fight.

  My entire body buzzed with the idea that for the first time ever we really could have it all.

  Maybe.

  “Don’t fucking move!” was barked from the doorway.

  Flint’s hands froze as he turned to look over his shoulder. I caught sight of Alex in the doorway, his gun aimed at Frankie. Flint immediately slid in front of me and pushed me over backwards. It wasn’t until I felt the first shot that I realized how wrong I truly was.

  I heard the second shot as I lay on the ground with Flint on top of me. Blood sprayed from Frankie’s head as he too collapsed on the floor.

  Maybe having it all was never meant for us.

  As the bell rang to end the second round, I sat on the stool, exhausted. After the day’s events, I was in no condition to be fighting at all. However, I was fighting for her—there wasn’t a boxer in the world who could have taken me down. But I would fall anyway.

  I opened my mouth to spit out my mouthpiece when one of the water boys stepped in front of me. As my trainer, Slate should have been the one to do it, so my senses immediately went on alert. I looked over my shoulder to find him just outside of the ring, secretively whispering with Leo. It was a sold-out arena in Vegas. No one should have been whispering in that chaos.

  Leo pointed to the side, and Slate’s eyes drifted for only a second before he rushed to the ring. His face was pale, but his expression was murderous.

  “What’s wrong?” I stood up, but he roughly pushed me back down. “Is she okay?”

  He squatted in front of me. “One round. Then I’m calling the fight. You knock this motherfucker out right now or it’s over.”

  “I’m supposed to fall,” I stated as panic built in my stomach. I pushed to my feet. “What the fuck is going on? Where is she?”

  He looked down to Leo and swallowed hard. Leo responded with a nod, and Slate slowly lifted his arm and pointed to the far side of the arena. I swung my head to follow his direction.

  My breath failed me as the weight of the world fell away.

  Eliza.

  She was wrapped in a blanket and surrounded by two uniformed officers, but she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her before. The second our eyes met, she burst into tears, and it was all I could do to keep my knees from buckling.

  “Oh, God.” I breathed. I lifted my hands to sign before remembering my gloves.

  “I’m okay,” she mouthed with a steady stream of tears dripping from her chin.

  I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. I wouldn’t believe it until I held her. I’d started to climb through the ropes when Slate grabbed my arm.

  “No. Finish this.”

  I looked back at Eliza and smiled weakly.

  “Why only one round if she’s okay?” I asked Slate without tearing my eyes off Eliza. I bounced on my toes and shook out my arms, trying to get myself back into the fight but finding it impossible.

  Slate didn’t have a chance to respond before Eliza gave me the answer.

  From under the blanket, she lifted a shaky hand to wipe away her tears, but her fingers left a streak of blood across her cheek.

  My eyes went wide. “Eliza!” I called out, but there was no way she could hear me over the crowd.

  I love you. I’m okay, she signed as one of the officers started to guide her away.

  “Eliza!” I yelled as I traced the ropes down the side of the ring to follow her. I was vaguely aware of the ref pushing me back to my corner, but all I could see was the blood painting her face.

  Slate moved in front of me as she disappeared around the corner. “One round.”

  “Why is she bleeding? What the fuck is going on?” I shoved his chest.

  “She’s fine. Get your ass in that corner. Three minutes. Then you are out of here.”

  I studied his eyes. “Swear to me she’s okay? Swear it!” I barked, backing into my corner.

  “She’ll be fine. Now, hurry this the fuck up. You have one round to secure your entire future. There are millions on the other side that bell. Claim them.” He pointed across the ring as he folded out. “Silence him.”

  That I could do.

  With a deep breath, I called up every bit of strength I had left. I drew from Eliza and the images of the life we were going to have together. The future I could provide not just Blakely, but also Flint and Quarry. I could win this for them.

  The fight had been somewhat one-sided until that point—and not my side. It was obvious that Matthews wasn’t the same fighter I’d easily knocked out all those years ago. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t the same Till Page either.

  Sixty seconds later, with the same combination I’d knocked him out with the first time, I made my own dreams come true. Rick Matthews stumbled back against the ropes before collapsing to the mat. The combination wasn’t anything special or unique to boxing, but it was conceived from a desperate need for me to get to Eliza’s side. And for that alone, it was unstoppable. I counted around my mouthpiece as the ref issued a ten-count, but I could have told you at three that the fight was over.

  When the ref waved his hands to call the fight, the crowd went nuts. The vibrations from the cheering fans were unforgettable, but it was the sight of thousands of fans twisting their open hands in sign language applause that choked me up. I lifted a glove in appreciation to the fans on all four sides of the ring, but that was my only celebration.

  “Let’s go!” I barked at Slate as he started pulling my gloves off. For a man who had just won his very first championship belt, my corner was entirely too subdued.

  “Wait,” he signed back. “Let them lift your glove and we’re out of here, okay? There’s a car waiting out back.”

  “A car? Where is she?” I asked as the opposing trainer came over to offer a handshake and the customary congratulations. But I wasn’t having it. I stepped around him and got int
o Slate’s face. “Where the fuck is she?” I growled.

  His hands lifted to respond, but he dropped them and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? What the fuck is going on?” My stomach dropped.

  I searched his face for answers, but he had them all stoically hidden away. Fuck having my glove lifted in the air. If there was a car out back headed for Eliza, I was getting in it.

  I shoved him out of the way and climbed out of the ring, not even bothering with the steps as I jumped off the skirting and made my way through the crowd. People were slapping my back as I rushed from the ring, and it wasn’t until I slammed the back door open that I realized Leo and Slate had followed me.

  Slate yanked the door open to a blacked-out Escalade, and I crawled inside. No sooner than the door was shut, I yelled, “Start fucking talking. Now!”

  “Eliza’s fine. So is the baby.”

  I blew out a relieved breath, but he continued.

  “She’s at the hospital with Flint.”

  My head snapped back in surprise. “Flint?”

  “I’m afraid so, son. He’s the one who found her. Frankie put up a fight, and Flint was shot in the scuffle.”

  “Flint?” I barely squeezed out as my chest took the painful blow of his words. “Is he okay?”

  “He was shot in the back, but according to Johnson, he was talking as the paramedics wheeled him out.”

  “In the back?” I whispered.

  Leo said something and my eyes flashed to Slate for the translation. With a quick swipe of his hands, pride—and guilt—consumed me.

  “He was protecting Eliza.”

  “TILL!” I CRIED AS SOON AS he shoved the door to my hospital room open.

  His hands were still taped from the fight and he was only wearing his trunks and an On The Ropes T-shirt, but it was the anger in his eyes that looked the most out of place. His whole face softened as soon as he saw me.

  He rushed to the bed and wrapped me in his strong arms. I had been mildly holding it together up until that moment, but I lost it as I buried my face in Till’s neck.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Eliza.”

  As he lifted me off the bed, the wires dangling from my stomach all snapped off. I clung to him anyway.

  He gently sat me back down. “What is all this?” He pointed to the monitors attached to my stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

  “She’s fine. When I was talking to the police, I started having contractions.”

  His eyes widened.

  “It was just stress,” I quickly clarified. “I haven’t had any more since they hooked me up to the monitors.”

  “Thank God,” he exhaled, resting his hand on the curve of my stomach.

  “How’s Flint? Did they tell you anything?”

  He swallowed hard, and instead of speaking, he only signed back. He’s in surgery.

  I nodded sadly, and he lifted my hand to kiss the palm. I sat there for several minutes just staring into space. I was in Till’s arms, but my body remained stiff.

  “Eliza, the police and Alex filled me in on what went down at the hotel, but do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head and nervously toyed with his fingers. I fought really fucking hard to hide what was really going through my head. It was wrong, and I felt extremely guilty for even thinking it. However, that didn’t stop me from feeling it. And as tears leaked from my eyes, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it hidden from Till.

  “It’s just . . . I’m so fucking mad at him right now.” I paused to collect myself but failed. “He’s so goddamn stupid. Why the hell didn’t he go to the police instead of storming in and trying to take care of it himself?” My chest ached as the memories filled my mind. “He shouldn’t have been there at all. It’s so messed up, but I want him to get out of surgery so I can . . . kick him or something.”

  Till coughed a laugh that was dripping with emotions. “I’m pissed too. But he took a bullet for my wife and daughter. I’m gonna have to figure out a way to get over it.”

  I couldn’t let it go though. I would have done anything for those boys, and apparently, he felt the same.

  “I met your dad,” I said as I tried my damnedest to stop envisioning Flint when he rushed through that hotel door.

  “I heard.” Till snapped.

  “How the hell does he know sign language?”

  “I have no fucking idea. But if I ever find that motherfucker, he won’t be alive long enough for me to ask.” He looked down and kissed my forehead.

  We quietly sat there for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts, but mine were just a never-ending replay of the day. My anxiety climbed with the vision of a gun being smashed into Quarry’s face, then Flint—

  Till interrupted my spiral downward. “You’re shaking. Talk to me.”

  I couldn’t stop the words as they flew from my mouth. “It was terrible, Till. I’ll never be able to forget the way Flint’s body jumped when the bullet hit him. Even as he fell on top of me, he was thinking enough to catch himself with an arm so he didn’t land on my stomach. He has to be okay. We can’t lose him.”

  Till was chewing on his bottom lip, and I knew for certain he didn’t need to hear any of it, but I also knew for certain that it would engulf me if I didn’t talk to someone so I selfishly kept going.

  “Oh, God. I really thought he was dead. Then he woke up when the paramedics got there, but he just kept repeating my name.” I dropped my chin to my chest and tried to rid myself of the memories that would haunt me forever.

  “Shhh. I’ve got you. He’s okay. We’re all okay,” Till choked out before pulling me into a hug.

  I couldn’t see him, but it was okay. Talking wasn’t helping the ache in my chest that was threatening to devour me.

  He eventually wedged his massive body onto the bed beside me and let me cry into his chest until I fell asleep. I loved Till Page, but not even his arms brought me comfort that night.

  “I’m sorry,” the surgeon said, pulling off his hat. “I don’t have any answers.”

  Slate translated beside the doctor. Eliza was sobbing in the bed, and I blindly reached down to hold her hand.

  “You . . .” I paused as my legs started to shake. “You’re a doctor. How can you not know?” I swallowed hard.

  “Spinal injuries are difficult to predict. It’s case by case, really. We’re going to do everything we can, but there is a good chance that he may never walk again.”

  I choked on a shocked breath. Quarry bolted from the room, Erica hot on his heels.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see. Give him some time to recover and let his body heal.”

  I watched Slate’s hands, but when I made it to his eyes, they mirrored the devastation in my own.

  “No. That’s not a good enough answer. Fix him.” It was worthless. I knew there was nothing the doctor could do, but that didn’t prevent me from taking an angry step forward and demanding again, “Fucking fix him.”

  Slate stepped in front of me, but I didn’t explode like I was sure he was expecting me to. I was exhausted. So instead, I backed up and sat down on the edge of Eliza’s bed. She wrapped her arms around my neck from the side, and I looked up to Slate.

  “I’m so sick of fighting.”

  He reached forward and squeezed my shoulder. “I can’t blame you. But let’s just hope Flint doesn’t feel the same way. This isn’t your fight anymore.”

  I kissed the top of Eliza’s head and rested a hand on her stomach. It was going to kill me, but Slate was right. I would have to watch this one from outside the ring.

  It was Flint’s turn to fight.

  BLAKELY PAGE WAS BORN THREE months after that horrible day in Vegas. She was the bright light during a dark time for all of us. With a head full of Till’s straight, black hair and my deep-blue eyes, she was beautiful—there was no disputing that. She had a tiny freckle-sized birthmark on the top of her hand that Till quickly fell in love with. He was such a great dad. He always had been though.
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  “The Silencer” Till Page lost his title belt after a rematch with Rick Matthews only a few months later. However, as the defending champion, the contract read a little differently that night. With a guaranteed eight figures in his pocket, “The Poor Kid Fighting For A Better Life” Till Page smiled with genuine excitement as The Brick Wall’s glove was lifted into the air. It didn’t matter one bit that he’d lost his final fight as a professional boxer. Till was the absolute winner as he walked out of that ring.

  The day Till received his cochlear implant was extremely bittersweet. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as he heard Blakely cry for the very first time. Unfortunately, not everyone was there to witness it firsthand.

  Flint and Quarry never truly came back from Vegas. Sure, they both returned home with us when Flint was well enough to travel, but my boys weren’t on that flight.

  They lived under our roof, but after that the smiles were never as wide nor were the laughs as loud. The apartment became entirely too quiet. I understood why Flint had changed so drastically, but even my sweet, foul-mouthed Quarry withdrew. We tried too hard to make everything go back to how it used to be, but ultimately, we were forced to let go and make the best of the present.

  The first thing Till did after he lost his title was write two enormous checks. Slate was more than happy to sell him fifty percent ownership of On The Ropes. Even though the funds were transferred electronically, Slate made a huge production about Till coming up to the gym late one night to deliver the check personally. It was all a ploy though. When Till walked through the door, Slate surprised him with his name painted in the coveted blank on the wall. Till was, in fact, On The Ropes’ first world champion, and he had been on every possible news and sports network you could imagine, but nothing validated his success more than seeing his name on that wall.

  The second check Till wrote was to the old construction company where he used to work. We spent over a week sketching our dream house. As soon as we were finished, Till rushed it down to the architecture firm to have formal plans drawn up. It wasn’t anything huge, but it was a mansion for us. I was banned from visiting the build site. I knew he was hiding something, but Till gave me a classic one-sided grin every time I brought it up, so I let it slide. Finally, the day we were presented with our keys, he let me in on his little secret.