On The Ropes Series Box Set

by Aly Martinez

  My conscience had needed Till and Eliza to be assholes who deserved that.

  Unfortunately, I’d gotten far more than I’d bargained for.

  He was in love with her.

  “Thank you,” Flint said as I finally got my emotions under control and was able to give up the show of laughter.

  “For what?”

  “Being weird. And making me lie under the stars on a pile of weeds.” He brushed a hair off my face. “And for calling me Wheels.”

  My head snapped to his. “You hate that nickname.”

  “Yeah. It’s really fucking rude.” He laughed. “But it’s also a truth that doesn’t necessarily have to be taken as an insult. You’ve never pitied me, Ash. Not even for being a sad bastard with an Oedipus complex.”

  “I have a freakish toe,” I announced.

  Flint bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “Oh yeah?” he asked, amused. Then he slid an arm under my neck and pulled me against his side, shifting me awkwardly until my head rested on his chest.

  “Yep. It’s, like, way shorter than the others. I would hope you wouldn’t pity me for it.”

  His shoulders shook as he kissed the top of my head. “Maybe I should start calling you Toes.” His foot gently tapped on the sole of my shoe.

  “Oh my God! Flint, you moved your legs!” I screamed, suddenly sitting up. My eyes must have been huge, because he looked at me like I had transformed into a maniac. “It’s a miracle!” I proclaimed.

  He laughed, shaking his head.

  “You want to get up and try to walk?” I asked in all seriousness. “Come on. I’ll help.” I grabbed his arms and started pulling.

  “Ash, stop. I can’t walk.”

  “Would it help if I start singing ‘Eye of the Tiger’? You’re a boxer. That’s a very inspirational song.”

  He barked out a loud laugh and yanked on my arm, forcing me back down. His mouth landed on mine before his smile even had a chance to disappear. Holding me against his lips, he breathed deeply for several seconds. I kept my eyes open, but his were reverently closed. I wasn’t completely sure what was going through his mind, but I had a feeling it was something big, a fact that was confirmed when his eyes opened and stared so fiercely into mine that I felt as though he were branding me from the inside out.

  It was a moment I would remember for the rest of my life.

  He could love her. I could learn to be okay with that. Because as his eyes held mine, I knew I’d never belong to anyone else, something I needed more than any love he could ever provide.

  Releasing my mouth, he whispered against my lips, “I can move my legs.”

  “Oh,” I breathed, still reeling from our moment.

  “I mean, a little bit. It takes a lot of concentration, and they don’t do much, but . . .” He paused, and his foot lifted an inch before falling back to the ground.

  “Oh,” I repeated.

  “But I do appreciate your offer to sing,” he teased.

  I started to roll back to my spot on the grass, but Flint held me tight, forcing me to lie tucked against his side—something I loved so much that I instinctually avoided it at all costs. I simply couldn’t allow myself to get used to the way my whole body warmed or the feeling of security he gave me with the simple drape of his arm. I knew that, if I ever lost it, I’d never be able to enjoy my life in the cold world that was left behind. I didn’t need to know how truly amazing life could be at his side.

  Rolling away, I asked, “Do you think you’ll ever be able to walk again?”

  He let out a groan that I thought had more to do with me moving than the question. “I don’t know. I hope so, but I’m not sure. I mean, my doctors say it’s promising that I can move my legs. But I try not to get my hopes up. Disappointment’s a real bitch.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” I answered, remembering his little revelation about Eliza.

  “It is what it is,” he said, dismissing the topic as he scooted over an inch and pulled me back against his side.

  That time, I didn’t move away. Instead, I gave myself a minute to dream of a future with Flint. It was the best dream I had ever made up—and a dream that would later turn into a nightmare, haunting me for years to come.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Flint

  Me: What are you doing today?

  Ash: Sitting on your couch?

  Me: Excellent answer.

  Ash: I’m glad you approve.

  Me: You want to go to a birthday party with me?

  Ash: Oh. My. God! I’ve never been to a birthday party!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Me: Wow! That’s a lot of exclamation points!

  Ash: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Me: You done yet?

  Ash: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Me: Should I wait for an answer or just assume the exclamation points are a yes?

  Ash: !!!!!!! Ok. I’m done now. !!!! Sorry those just slipped.

  Me: So . . . party?

  Ash: Yes, I’ll go! Q told me there was going to be a clown and a bounce house.

  Me: Probably.

  Ash: Pick me up at 12:30. We need to stop so I can get a present.

  Me: Cool. See you then.

  Ash: <3 <3 <3

  I tossed my phone on counter and stared at the invitation to Blakely Page’s first birthday sitting on the table in front of me. It seemed my secret whereabouts weren’t all that secret anymore. I wasn’t sure if Quarry or Slate had finally spilled my address, but earlier that morning, I’d opened the front door to find Till standing on my welcome mat. He hadn’t said a single word as he’d handed me the invitation, but the muscles in his neck had strained, letting me know he’d had a ton of pissed-off words to say and was struggling to keep them under wraps—a fact I immensely appreciated.

  He’d slowly backed away, pausing just before he turned toward the parking lot.

  “I know for a fact that fucking door works. Use it,” he’d gritted out before disappearing.

  I’d sat there staring at the pink envelope in my hand while Till’s old truck rumbled away. He was a millionaire and he still drove that hunk of junk everywhere. Eliza drove a top-of-the-line SUV, and even the van he’d bought me had every possible bell and whistle imaginable. Yet Till still drove the same truck that had already been a piece of shit when he’d bought it years earlier.

  That’s my brother.

  And for the first time since the accident, thinking about Till actually stung.

  Well, that’s not totally true. Thinking about Till used to do far more than sting. It used to devour me. However, this time, it stung in a different way.

  The pain I felt was from guilt instead of resentment.

  Even the idea of seeing Eliza didn’t send me into some sort of panic.

  It was time.

  I was finally going back.

  And she was going with me.

  * * *

  When I arrived to pick Ash up, my mouth gaped open as she sauntered out of the house. She had always been a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of girl, but that day, she had clearly stepped it up a notch. She was wearing a short, red sundress that exposed a tasteful amount of cleavage. Well, tasteful in the sense that it guaranteed I would, in fact, be tasting it again that night—and hopefully other places as well. Instead of her usual flip-flops or flats, she was wearing tall, strappy wedge sandals that immediately hardened my cock. The front of her hair was twisted back, and bright-red lipstick painted her lips, making her look like she had stepped off the front of a 1950s pinup calendar.

  She looked incredible.

  And as a wide smile spread across her face, she made me feel incredible.

  After a long stop at the toy store, where Ash had insisted on asking a mother carting around a toddler to help us shop for Blakely, we finally arrived at Till and Eliza’s house.

  Ash’s eyes all but popped out of her head as we drove through the security gate. But the second I saw that house, my nerves hit in full force.

  “C’mere,” I said to Ash as soon as I parked. Pull
ing her into a hard kiss she enthusiastically returned, I traced up her long legs and under the edge of her dress. “You look beautiful,” I murmured.

  “So you’ve mentioned.” She giggled, and my nerves started to fade away.

  “Just making sure you heard me.” I released her, and she grabbed a wipe from her purse and cleaned the lipstick from my mouth for approximately the twentieth time since I’d picked her up.

  I took a deep breath, and with Ash at my side, we headed toward the party.

  When we got to the backyard, I ran into a myriad of familiar faces.

  “Did the world end and I somehow missed it?” Slate said dryly, walking over from where Erica was watching their kids in the bounce house.

  “Hey,” I replied, embarrassed, remembering how I’d spoken to him that day in my apartment.

  “I’m glad you came, son.” He squeezed my neck.

  “Hey, listen, I’m really sorry about—” I started, but he interrupted me.

  “Who’s this?” he asked, extending a hand over my shoulder.

  “Oh sorry. This is my . . .” I stalled, trying to figure out what to call her. Oh, fuck it. We all knew who she was. “This is my girlfriend, Ash. Ash, this is Slate Andrews. He owns On The Ropes with Till.” I looked up to find her staring down at me in absolute awe. I tossed her a puzzled expression, but she didn’t explain.

  “Hi! So nice to meet you.” She took Slate’s hand.

  Judging by the slight tip of his head, he had witnessed her strange reaction. Whatever. I could worry about that later, because suddenly, as if a ring announcer had just spouted my introduction to the entire party, dozens of eyes all flashed my way.

  I could feel them watching me, but my attention was homed in on a pair of dark blues boring into mine from only a few feet away. Her eyes instantly pooled with tears, and an ache grew in my chest.

  But it wasn’t my heart that hurt.

  And it wasn’t agonizing.

  It was just there.

  Lingering.

  Then, with my eyes still focused on the object of my obsession for most of my adolescence, Ash’s hand closed over mine, and I was hit by a sudden rush of that same ache ebbing from my body—freeing me.

  Eliza warily approached, repeatedly glancing down to where Ash’s hand covered mine. She didn’t attempt to say anything as she stood there with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  A small smile tipped my lips. “Stop crying. I promised I’d come back, didn’t I?”

  And that was it. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. She held me for several seconds, half crying, half laughing. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the ease and relief I felt from her embrace.

  Till appeared and attempted to peel Eliza off me, but she was crying so hard that it was almost comical. Well, that was until I saw the utter devastation covering Ash’s face.

  Shit.

  Ash

  I had been wrong.

  I couldn’t handle it at all.

  I didn’t care that Flint had more than shown that I belonged to him, that he was proud to have me on his arm. And I didn’t care that he would never in a million years have Eliza as anything more than a sister-in-law. I knew how he felt, and that was more than enough to shatter whatever childish dreams I had invented and replayed every single minute of every single day.

  Watching him breathe so deeply, as if he could inhale her. That was mine. And if I’d had to witness the branding blaze of his eyes when he opened them, I would have more than self-destructed.

  Thankfully, Quarry chose that exact moment to offer me an escape.

  “Ash!” he yelled from several yards away. He was waving his hands and pointing at the clown making balloon animals for the kids. “Told you!”

  “Excuse me,” I addressed the group, and then I hurriedly clomped away.

  The one fucking day I wore heels, I had to march across what might as well have been a football field of grass. Although I only actually marched for about three steps before my ankle rolled and sent me crashing to the ground.

  “Ash!” Flint shouted, chasing after me.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, quickly pushing back to my feet and wiping the dirt from my dress. “I’m good,” I said with a smile that should have won me a goddamned Oscar nomination.

  “Stop,” Flint said, taking my wrist.

  “Stop what?” I snapped, trying to pull it from his grasp.

  “Getting upset.”

  I looked up to find a group of people curiously watching us, so I pasted on a grin and replied, “Don’t be silly. I’m just going to see the clown.”

  Flint didn’t buy it for even a second.

  Before I could utter another excuse, his arm folded around my hips and dragged me down onto his lap. “I swear to God, Ash. I will not have this conversation with you out here on the lawn, but you will not fucking run away without allowing me to explain, either. So you have two choices. You follow me inside and talk to me. Or I will tie you to this chair and carry you inside to talk to me. One is tedious, time consuming, and embarrassing. But I am more than willing to give it a go for you.”

  “What the hell? You got a spool of rope in your pocket?” I snarked.

  “I have a belt,” he retorted.

  Normally, I would have sassed back, but I could tell by the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t kidding. While being tied to Flint didn’t seem like a bad option at all, I decided against the embarrassment factor.

  “Lead the way,” I bit out, pushing myself off his lap.

  He nodded toward the huge house. “After you.”

  I walked a little more carefully through the grass, smiling as we passed the onlookers.

  “I’m gonna take Ash inside to get cleaned up,” Flint called out, following closely behind me.

  Instead of going to the front door, he directed me around back toward a long ramp that led inside. A huge room nicer than anything I had ever seen greeted me on the other side of the automatic door. Everything was new, and there was more than enough space for Flint’s wheelchair to maneuver around. It was obvious, based on the empty bookshelves that lined the walls, that it used to be his room. He must have had it really bad to be willing to leave that place in exchange for his tiny apartment.

  Yeah, bad . . . In love with her.

  “Talk,” he demanded as I continued to take in the room and expansive connecting bathroom.

  “I don’t have anything to say.” It was both a truth and a lie. I had tons to say, but the thoughts and feelings were so jumbled in my head that I couldn’t pinpoint where to start.

  “Ash, don’t do this. I know that made you uncomfortable out there.”

  “Maybe just for a minute. I’m okay now.” Now that was definitely a lie.

  “Liar,” he whispered, stopping in front of me and taking my hand. “You don’t have to be jealous of her.” He kissed my knuckle.

  “Yeah, I know,” I replied without meeting his gaze. “Come on. Let’s go back out. I’ve never seen an actual clown before.”

  “Wait. Look at me.”

  My traitorous eyes followed his order.

  “I shouldn’t have told you what I did about her. It’s not a big deal anymore.”

  And with that, all of my thoughts finally aligned.

  And they were pissed.

  “How exactly is it not a big deal that you’re in love with her? Because it’s a really big freaking deal to me!” I snapped with entirely more attitude than I had anticipated.

  “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore—”

  “It matters to me!” I shouted before closing my eyes, wishing I could magically transport myself out of there. Although I wasn’t sure where I would go, because the only place I truly belonged was sitting in front of me. “I love you,” I admitted with my eyes still squeezed shut. I’d wanted to say it, but I didn’t want to see the absence in his own eyes when he was unable to return the sentiment.

  “No, you don’t. You barely know me,”
he whispered.

  I guessed it was his turn to lie, because I knew enough about Flint to have fallen in love with him within twenty-four hours of meeting him.

  I continued talking but never opened my eyes. “I do. I love you a lot.”

  “Ash—”

  “No. Don’t. I know what you’re thinking. Max told me it’s too soon and I’m way too young. But it may have only been a month and I might only be sixteen, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I love you. And it hurts so much to know that you love her.”

  The proverbial record stopped.

  “Wait. What?” He suddenly dropped my hand.

  I pried an eye open to gauge how hard I needed to keep trying to disappear, but when I saw his ghostly white face, they both popped open.

  I had known he couldn’t return my feelings, but I hadn’t expected them to horrify him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ash

  “YOU’RE HOW OLD?” HE GASPED.

  “Sixteen.” I twisted my mouth in confusion. What the hell is his problem?

  His eyes raked over my body in a way that usually sent tingles down my spine, only this time, his eyes never heated. Instead, they became cold and distant.

  “How?” he asked incredulously, only confusing me more.

  “Ummm . . . how old did you think I was?”

  “Not sixteen!” he roared, shoving a rough hand into the back of his hair. “This is not happening.” He began to glide his chair around the room in a nervous pattern.

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “You’re sixteen!” he repeated as if they had become the sole words in his vocabulary.

  “So what?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  His eyes automatically dropped. I would have smiled at the small victory, but we had far bigger issues to deal with. Like him being in love with another woman.