by Aly Martinez
Chapter Thirty-One
Liv
“I’M NOT SCARED,” I WHISPERED, sinking even deeper into his arms. The warmth of his strong chest pressed into my back, reminded me of the security that only existed when I was with him. “I knew you’d come.” I turned my head to nuzzle against his bicep, his arms tightening around me. “I’m safe with you, Quarry,” I mumbled—my words from all those years ago, wholeheartedly believing them all over again.
Even if he was only in my imagination, nothing could hurt me when I was in his arms.
Not Davenport.
Not knives.
Not guns.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Not when I was with him.
“Just a few more minutes,” I whispered.
A tear dripped off my chin, joining the growing collection in my lap.
“Just a few more minutes.” I repeated.
Not even a second later, a soundless sob tore from my throat as Otis Redding’s White Christmas filled the silence.
My breath caught on a shudder. “He’s coming.”
Quarry
The officers had just gotten Davenport in cuffs, and I didn’t wait for a sign, nor did I ask for permission before I rushed into the community center in search of Liv.
“She’s in the supply closet in the hall,” Clay called out as he lay face down in a pair of cuffs.
My heart stopped, and the very idea of her hiding in a dark closet made me want to kill Davenport that much more. And I’d already wanted to watch him burn alive. Now, even that was too kind.
That would have to wait though.
I paused only long enough to press the power button on the speaker system, turning it as loud as it could go before sprinting down the hall.
“Rocky!” I yelled over the Christmas music. I began snatching door after door open, finding each one empty. With only one left at the end of the hall, I sucked in a deep breath, holding it as I slowly opened the door.
There she was.
Still breathing.
Heart still beating.
Scared to fucking death, hiding in a motherfucking closet.
But she was still alive.
Still mine.
Forever.
“Liv,” I said softly, dropping to my knees beside her.
Her arms were wrapped around her legs, her forehead resting on her knees. She flinched when I brushed her hair off her shoulder.
“Are you okay, baby?”
I could barely hear her when she asked, “Are you really here?”
My voice lodged in my throat. I couldn’t be positive of the answer, but if it were a dream, I never wanted to wake up.
“Yeah, Rocky. I’m here. You’re safe now.”
All at once, she dove into my arms. Burrowing her face in my neck, she clung to my shoulders as sobs ravaged her. “I-I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Shhh. You did good.” I stood up with her in my arms.
Leo was just outside the door, his pale face etched with relief. I was sure it matched my own.
“I knew you’d come.”
“Always.” I kissed the top of her head. “Always.”
I carried her into a breakroom across the hall. Settling in a chair, I held her securely tucked against my chest. Her mom, along with Till and Flint, appeared in the doorway, and Leo paced the length of the room, only stopping to snap his fingers when an officer would try to interrupt us.
The Christmas music had been turned down, but it still softly played in the background as I allowed her the time to collect herself.
“Is…is Don okay?” she finally asked.
“Don?” The proverbial light bulb went off above my head. “Oh, God. Is the old guy your assistant?” If I hadn’t been holding her safely in my arms, that would have been the moment my blood began to boil all over again.
She nodded without looking up.
“He’s fine,” I said shortly, looking to Leo, Till, and Flint, whose angry faces told me they were sharing my little realization.
“Can I see him?”
“No,” we all snapped entirely too roughly given her current state.
Her head popped up, and she looked at me before nervously flashing her gaze around the room. “Why not?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Because he’s probably on his way to jail right about now.”
“No!” She jumped to her feet. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“His name isn’t Don, Rocky. It’s Clay Page.”
Her eyes grew wide in understanding. “No way.”
“I have no idea what this was about, but I’m gonna find out. I swear, if he had anything to do with this—”
“He didn’t,” she whispered sadly. “He tried to save me. He yelled at me to run after he shot Davenport…but I remember what he did to Flint and Eliza.” She stopped, and tears once again filled her eyes. “This is too much. Can we just go home now?”
“Yeah, babe… Jesus!” I cursed when I saw her swollen and contorted ring finger.
“I’m fine,” she immediately lied as her father closed in on her.
“No, you are not!”
“What the fuck!”
“Shit!”
That had all come from the door.
“Medic!” Leo yelled.
“Oh my God, Daddy. Stop! I’m fine.”
“Let me see,” Till said, busting into the middle.
“Move!” Sarah exclaimed, pushing him out of the way.
Flint even got in on the action, lifting his iPhone and talking out loud as he started Googling finger injuries.
I didn’t move. Not even an inch. I sat in the chair, watching her cop an attitude with her parents while batting off my brothers’ concerned hands.
I swallowed hard as the adrenaline started to leave me. My mouth dried, and I folded my hands together, linking them behind my neck to hide the fact that they had begun to shake. My mind went to work terrorizing me with all the possible what-ifs that could have happened. I felt like the biggest pussy to have roamed the Earth, but the intensity of it all was crippling. I must have looked like hell, because Liv’s attention snapped to mine, concern and understanding painting her face.
“Everyone out,” she demanded. “Now.”
Till walked over and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re okay. She’s okay. We’re all okay. Nothing else matters, Q. Not Dad. Not Davenport. Nothing.”
“I know,” I replied unconvincingly, my impending breakdown only seconds away.
I was still struggling to collect myself when the door clicked behind them. A second later, Liv climbed into my lap.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Nope.” I sucked in a deep breath, holding it as I stared up into her dark-brown eyes.
The warmth only she possessed slid through me, soothing me from the inside out. Her tender gaze slowed the vortex in my head, and with a slight reassuring tip of her lips, the world suddenly became manageable again.
“But I will be,” I finished.
“We both will be.” She brushed her lips across mine. “Every. Single. Day, Q.”
It was a promise.
And the only words that could ever quell the anxiety blazing within me.
“Every. Single. Day,” I repeated back to her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Flint
Six months later…
“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!” I yelled at Quarry after he’d taken a hard right. “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted over the sold-out crowd in the same Vegas arena we had almost been ruined in all those years earlier.
“Give him a minute!” Liv shot back, nervously twirling her wedding ring around her finger.
After the whole Davenport incident, Quarry had thrown one of his testosterone-induced temper tantrums and insisted Liv marry him as soon as possible. She’d reluctantly agreed, and then we’d watched yet another one of his fits when he realized “as soon as possible” wasn’t the very next day. As u
sual, Liv had talked him off the crazy-train, and three months later, they’d said, “I do,” in front of over five hundred guests in an insanely over-the-top wedding in Chicago.
“He’s not going to have a minute if he doesn’t get his head together,” I retorted, flinching when he caught another blow.
“He’s got this,” she assured. “You know Q can’t do anything without being dramatic. This is just the buildup.”
“He does love the drama,” Ash stated in agreement.
“You are entirely too chill right now,” I told Ash. “Just so you know, if he wins this fight, we make double on the next one.”
Her eyes flashed wide, and then she shot to her feet, shouting, “Get your fucking hands up, Q!”
I laughed without dragging my eyes off the action in the ring.
The bell rang, and Till and Slate climbed into Quarry’s corner, forcing him on to the stool and icing his swollen left eye. Till’s hands were signing a mile a minute, and Quarry was smiling and shaking his head at everything he said.
Little shit.
Some things never change.
At least they didn’t until I caught Liv signing to him, You’re scaring me.
Quarry’s face turned to stone, and he quickly nodded at her.
“You want to sit down?” Ash asked, ducking under my arm.
“No.” I smiled.
Tipping her head to the side, she asked, “What are you smiling about? I figured you’d be cranky Flint after that round.”
I flashed her a wide grin. “This is the dream, Ash. For all of us. I’m standing here, with my wife, in the building where I was shot and paralyzed over a decade ago. Till won his fight. He’s no longer deaf. Eliza’s safe. My father is in prison. And we all have the opportunity to replace the memories of that God-awful night with this moment right here.” I squeezed her tight into my side and kissed the top of her head. “My little brother is about to achieve his lifelong goal of fighting for the world heavyweight championship, where, win or lose, he’ll make enough money to support even our great-great-grandkids. When we were kids, we couldn’t even dream of something this big. And look at us now. We have it all. Cranky Flint doesn’t even exist in this moment.”
Till
“Stop showboating and finish this shit!” I signed, squirting water in Quarry’s mouth.
If his wicked grin was any indication, though, he didn’t give a damn what I’d said. He was going to finish the fight the way he wanted. Such was life with Quarry. And it had only gotten worse over the last few months.
When Davenport had been deemed mentally incompetent to stand trial, Quarry had changed. I’d expected him to do what he usually did and get pissed off and show his ass in one of his usual hotheaded ways. He hadn’t done any of that though. Quarry had actually chilled out. It was like that wedding ring Liv had slipped on his finger held some sort of magical powers—or, at the very least, tranquilizers. When the judge had issued his verdict, I hadn’t been required to wrestle Q to the ground in order to keep court security from tasering him. He hadn’t even flinched, actually. He’d just walked out of the courthouse with his arm draped around his new wife and never looked back.
Liv was a saint. I’d spent my entire life up until that point trying to keep Quarry from overflowing, and she could do it with a single glance. Like the one she’d just shot him from outside the ropes. It was exactly why he was smiling. And the only reason I had any faith that this might actually be the final round.
As Q pushed to his feet, I followed Slate out of the ring.
“He gonna stop screwing around?” Slate asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shrugged. “Hell if I know. Ask that one.” I pointed over to Liv, who was nervously toying with her ring but doing it while sporting a mischievous smile that matched my brother’s.
My eyes drifted to Eliza, who was doodling on a sketchpad, not paying any attention to the fight. She loved boxing. She just hated watching Quarry. I couldn’t imagine how she was going to handle it when little Slate got in the ring. He was already chomping at the bit, but she’d made me promise to wait until he was at least eight. Only a few more months.
As if she could sense me watching her, her gaze flipped to mine. “You did it,” she mouthed as she signed.
I arched an eyebrow and signed back, “Did what?”
“This.” She motioned her finger down the front row, where Liv, Ash, and Flint were all sitting. “That.” She pointed to Quarry in the ring. “All of it.”
I shook my head as the bell rang, starting a new round. “They did this.”
She smiled and then tipped her chin to the ring.
I looked back up in time to see Quarry storm forward, dodging a jab before landing a combination ending with a knockout left hook.
The arena exploded in loud cheers as the ref started to issue the count.
My heart exploded when he got to ten.
He did it.
He fucking did it.
Pride soared.
Flint and Liv appeared at the ring before I even had a chance to climb inside. Liv wasn’t exactly one to adhere the formalities, so she was in the ring with her legs locked around his waist before his opponent had even made it off the mat.
My mind was reeling as I spun in a circle, listening to the crowd chanting our last name. It made me a bitch, but the emotions of it all were staggering. Photographers clicked away, capturing history. The crowd roared, celebrating right along with us. Every major network on television had a cameraman on the skirting, fighting for the best angle.
I could have been blind and still would have had the best seat in the house just because I was his big brother.
That was how championships were supposed to be won. Quarry didn’t have to rush from the ring to find out his brother had been shot. His pregnant wife hadn’t been kidnapped. He got to actually enjoy it.
And, because of that, I was wearing an impossibly wide smile and enjoying it too.
Amongst the chaos, I found myself looking for Eliza once again. Ringside was a mess, but I finally located her standing on her chair in the front row, holding her sketchpad up. Scrawled across it, in big letters, were the words: This is reality.
I couldn’t fight back the emotions any longer.
Reality didn’t seem like the right word at all.
That moment felt a whole lot like fantasy to me.
Quarry
Standing in the middle of the ring while thousands of cameras flashed around us, I kissed Liv one last time before lowering her back to the feet.
“Go. Celebrate,” she signed, backing into my corner.
The sound of the announcer’s voice was so loud that even my weak ears couldn’t miss it. “Winner and new heavyweight champion of the world, Quarry ‘The Stone Fist’ Page!”
The ref made a move to grab my glove, but I had other plans. Evading him, I walked to my corner. Tearing at the tape on my gloves with my teeth, I yanked them off without even asking for help.
Slate smiled proudly as I lifted both fists and bowed to him with immeasurable gratitude.
“Thank you,” I mouthed.
He continued to grin and simply nodded, wrapping his arm around Liv’s shoulders.
“Yo! Come here!” I yelled at Till, who was staring at Eliza in the crowd. Then I turned, snatched Flint’s cane out of his hand, and tossed it into the corner. “Come on.” I dipped my shoulder under his arm to help him balance.
The three of us walked to the center of the ring together.
I hadn’t won that fight alone.
I wouldn’t have even made it to the fight without them.
Sure, we all had wives now. They had kids. We owned homes—huge ones. Our bank accounts held more zeros than we could have ever imagined. Yet, somehow, we were still the three broke kids in stained shirts and dirty jeans, eating ramen noodles in our filthy kitchen.
And that was exactly how I knew we had truly made it.
Till, despite the fact that he’d been
forced into parenthood at twenty-one years old, still smiled with the crooked grin and mind-blowing confidence I’d spent my entire life trying to mimic.
Flint walked with a cane, yet every single step he took had a purpose. Whether it was digging clothes from the free bins at the local church or negotiating a sixty-million-dollar contract, he’d always been there for me no matter what.
I wasn’t the only champion in the ring that night.
So, with Till on my right and Flint on my left, I lifted all of our fists in victory.
Epilogue
Liv
“I’M NERVOUS!”
Quarry laughed and shook his head. “Why?”
“What if my voice is annoying?”
He looked at the audiologist. “Any chance this baby comes with a mute button?”
I slapped his leg. “I’m serious!”
“So am I!” he teased, brushing my hair over my shoulder.
Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms and rested them on my swollen belly.
Quarry had been wrong the day he’d proposed. Nothing stays the same forever. Over the years, everything had changed for us. However, it wasn’t a bad thing, because we’d changed together.
After the Davenport incident, my life had flipped upside down. The press had launched full force on the community center when the story broke. While I had been insanely proud of everything I had accomplished while working there, it had been clear that it was in everyone’s best interest for me to resign. Once Quarry had won the title, he’d been even more famous than before, and as his wife, my life had been slung into the spotlight right along with him. I couldn’t teach anymore, but sign language was still my passion. So I became an advocate and spokeswoman for the National Association of the Deaf. With a little help from Q, we were able to raise enough money to fund over twenty new ASL programs across the country.
Three years after Quarry had first won the title belt, his hearing suddenly took a significant turn downward, and within a few months, he was completely deaf. As to be expected, I flipped. He just laughed and held me. I was six months pregnant at the time, and what I had expected to be a meltdown as my husband entered the world of silence turned into a hormone-induced fit of epic proportions. Quarry wasn’t concerned in the least though. He was sad that he was going to miss hearing the baby cry for the first time, but he simply stated that holding his son safe in his arms would be more than enough to make up for it. And the day March Leo Page was born, I knew he’d been right. Watching my husband—my soul mate—tough, tattooed fighter, Quarry “The Stone Fist” Page, holding his son was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. And that said a lot because Quarry had given me a beautiful life.