by Aly Martinez
Kids were another thing that changed our lives tremendously. March was born with my dark skin and eyes, but he was one hundred percent his father’s brand of trouble. And that did not bode well for us. We adored being parents, but we both questioned if we could handle another one. We loved March more than life, but one was enough for us.
Or so we thought.
After Ash and Flint adopted a little girl, baby fever hit me—hard. I feared Quarry’s head was going to explode when I told him that I wanted to try for another child. March was starting first grade, and we’d already made several large donations to his private school to ensure he wouldn’t get kicked out—again. Things were finally starting to calm down for us, so Quarry put his foot down on the baby thing. Which caused me to put my foot down and reject his definitive no. We argued for weeks until he finally shut down all further conversations in order to focus on his next fight. I was pissed, but he swore we could revisit the topic afterwards.
Quarry successfully defended his title eight times over the course of his reign in the ring. And, even after he’d lost it, he remained a substantial competitor in the sport. Proof being that, even at thirty-three years old, he was offered another shot at his old belt. A shot he not only took, but also won. That wasn’t all that shocking though. He’d been born to be a champion.
However, it was at the press conference after the fight where he truly surprised everyone—including me—by announcing his retirement. When a reporter asked him what he was planning to do next, his gaze had bounced to mine as he proudly answered, “First, I’m gonna knock up my wife. Second, I’m getting a cochlear implant so I can finally hear my little man screaming at me. And, lastly, I have no fucking clue. But one and two are more than enough to keep me busy for a few years.”
Yep. He was still breathtakingly unapologetic. That would never change.
And that was how I ended up eight months pregnant with our daughter, Quinn Eliza Page, and sitting in a doctor’s office, anxiously waiting for them to activate my husband’s cochlear implant. The entire Page family was not-so-patiently waiting in the hall. Actually, it seemed like Quarry was the only relaxed one. Even March, who was digging through all the doctor’s drawers, seemed edgy.
“You ready?” the doctor asked from behind his computer.
“No!” I exclaimed.
Quarry chuckled and squeezed my leg. “I think he was talking to me, Rocky.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Right. Well, my answer remains the same.”
“Look at me,” he urged.
I peeked up at him, tears already pooling in my eyes.
“What the hell? Why are you crying?” His face gentled. Tossing an arm around my shoulders, he pulled me into his side.
“I have no idea! It’s just a big change.” I sniffled.
“Come on. This is nothing. Now, in a few weeks when you give birth to that hellion growing inside you, that’s going to be a change. This though? It’s the easy stuff, Rocky.”
It was easy. Especially compared to everything we had already overcome together.
Quarry’s dad was definitely one of those hard things for the two of us. Actually, he was a tough subject for all the Page brothers. Clay had had quite the rap sheet, including blowing parole, so when it had come time for sentencing, it was clear he’d never walk as a free man again. This bothered me more than I could ever explain. I owed my life to “Don Blake,” but the rest of the Page family still wore Clay’s scars.
When the truth came out about why Clay had been at the community center with me that night, everyone had seemed relieved. Watching their faces when they’d realized he’d actually done something right for once was the only happy part of the whole ordeal. And, because of that, I never could have fathomed Quarry’s reaction when I’d innocently mentioned mailing his dad a letter in prison. He’d been livid. Till had shared his opinion, but Flint, surprisingly enough, had taken my back on the issue. After multiple heated family discussions, Till, Flint, and—yes—even Quarry had eventually given me permission to mail their father monthly pictures. This agreement had come with caveats. The two biggest being: I was never allowed to give him our address, and I wasn’t allowed to have any correspondence with him. No notes. No chats. For the love of God, no visits. Only pictures. I’d immediately agreed. All things considered, it was more than fair. And it spoke volumes about the amazing men the Page brothers had become.
“Relax,” Quarry urged, brushing his lips across my jaw. “This is a good thing.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, not even the least bit relaxed.
March suddenly flopped into the chair beside his father. “Is she seriously crying again?” he signed.
Quarry smirked and ruffled our son’s dark-brown hair. “If you think this is bad, you should have grown up with Aunt Eliza. She cried about everything, pregnant or not.”
“She still does,” he mumbled. “So, you getting new ears or what?”
Quarry’s gaze drifted back to mine, and he arched an eyebrow in question. “I don’t know. Am I?”
Drying the tears from under my eyes, I straightened in my chair. “Yeah. You’re right. This is nothing.”
Tossing his arm around the back of March’s chair, Quarry anchored his hand on my thigh. “Okay, Doc. We’re ready.”
The doctor began rattling off information, going over a few simple instructions and warning us to keep our expectations low. We had been told that sounds were easy, but it sometimes took a while for voices to become clear with the implant. And, over the last few days, I’d been obsessing over the fact that, sometimes, it didn’t work at all.
I listened with rapt attention, but Quarry barely paid him any mind and instead snuck his fingers down to tickle March’s neck.
I tapped his arm to catch his eyes then snapped, “Pay attention!”
He made teasingly wide eyes at March, which made him laugh, before turning back to me. “Okay. What in the ever-loving hell is going on with you right now? You freaked when I lost my hearing. Now, you’re freaking when I’m about to get it back?”
I swallowed hard, those damn tears appearing once again.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, pulling me back into his side. “Maybe we should come back another day.”
“No!” I shot up straight. “I’m sorry.” I glanced at Quarry, strategically avoiding the doctor, who was impatiently glaring at me. “I guess… It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever realized how much I want this for you. And, now, I’m scared that it won’t work.” I smiled tightly.
His face warmed in understanding.
“Mrs. Page,” the doctor said, interrupting our conversation. “Can I please reiterate what I told you during our phone call last night?”
It was my turn to glare at him. That call was supposed to be our little secret.
“You did not call him last night!” Quarry howled with laughter.
“I was nervous!”
The doctor didn’t wait for us to quiet before continuing. “The failure rate is less than one percent. Mr. Page is an excellent candidate, so I don’t anticipate any problems today whatsoever.”
“Well…what if—”
Quarry cut me off. “So what. So what if it fails? So what if I can never hear again? Is that a bad thing?” he asked me.
“No. Of, course not. It’s just—”
“You hate the silence. After all these years, I know that better than anyone. But I’m not scared. I’m not nervous. I’m not upset. I’m not anything. I want to hear my kids. And you. And my brothers. And their kids. I want to watch a movie. And listen to music. But, if I don’t get that, so fucking what?”
March slapped his arm to scold his father for cussing, but Quarry ignored it.
Taking my hand, he leaned even closer and implored, “Nothing changes, Liv. Whether I hear it or not, our lives are still going to happen. We’re still going to be happy. We’re still going to be together. You’re still going to pop out my daughter in a few days. March is still going to g
row up—God help us all. We’re still a family, Rocky. We go home together and keep living, no matter what the outcome is. It’s what we do. Together. Always together.”
Even I couldn’t argue with that logic.
I did hate the silence. I even still slept with music on, but with Quarry sound asleep at my side each night, the volume was significantly lower—and, truth be told, sometimes it was virtually inaudible.
But I was no longer living in fear.
We had both vowed the day we’d gotten married that fear and insecurity were no longer a part of our lives. Our love was dense—filled with the solitude of our past but empowered because we’d made it through together. Nothing could take that from us.
We had each other.
Every. Single. Day.
Forever.
So, staring into his hazel gaze, I dried the tears from under my eyes and squared my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
A smile spread across his face. “We’re ready, Doctor.”
Moments later, Quarry’s eyes lit.
Moments after that, they filled with tears.
“Hey, Daddy.” March smiled, popping the dimple that matched his father’s.
“Oh, God,” Quarry choked, covering his mouth with a hand. Turning to me, he admitted, “I think you were right. This was a bad idea. I’m never gonna be able to ground him again if he calls me Daddy like that. We’re screwed.” He then smiled, scooped March into his lap, and tickled him.
I let out a loud laugh, and Quarry immediately froze.
His gaze snapped to mine, and his lips twisted in pain.
“Quarry?” I asked, concerned.
He lifted a finger, asking for a second, and then shifted March back to his chair.
Cautiously, I rubbed his back, waiting for him to collect himself.
“I just…” he started in a gravelly voice before clearing his throat to finish. “I didn’t realize how much I missed your laugh.” He gripped the back of my neck and pulled my face against his chest.
His strong heart beat a staccato rhythm in my ear, melting the anxiety away.
Purring, I curled in closer. “I love you.”
He squeezed me tight. “I love you too, Rocky,”
March interrupted our quiet embrace by announcing, “I’m telling Uncle Flint that Daddy cried.”
“Don’t you dare!” Quarry laughed.
In that moment, my smile was unrivaled.
That was one thing that would never change.
Every. Single. Day.
Forever.
THE END
Acknowledgements
And here we are again. Ten books later and I’m pretty sure I have thanked everyone in every possible way. Why? Because I’m one of the few who has been lucky enough to collect an amazing team. I didn’t write this book alone. It took a village.
Allow me to break this down for you.
Poor Mr. Martinez spent countless hours being Mr. Mom for our kids so I could write. (I’m a lucky lady.)
Mo Mabie, Meghan March, Erin Noelle, and Jessica Prince were the lucky four who got to listen to be bitch and complain every step of the way when Quarry wouldn’t do what I told him to. (Trust me, I totally understand how Till feels now.)
Ashley Teague spent many of nights talking to me about Liv’s obsession with Christmas tree cakes. (We may or may not have been dieting and hungry at the time.)
Natasha Gentile spent hours upon hours searching for the perfect gifs to adequately explain how mean I was. (She’s right.)
Amie Knight and Miranda Arnold spent long nights scouring the Internet in hopes of finding just the right hot guy inspiration to keep my words flowing. (It’s a tough job.)
Bianca Smith and Bianca Janakievski read every dreadfully unedited word and pretended that they knew what I was trying to say. (Not even kidding when I say, that is a tough job.)
Megan Cooke slaved over beta notes that were roughly the same length as this book. (She’s awesome like that.)
Mara De Guzman kept me thoroughly entertained by sending me the play-by-play as she read. (And unlike Natasha, she didn’t tell me I was a terrible person once. HA!)
Elle Jefferson sent me the most amazing emails yelling at me for making her cry in public. (It’s a skill of mine.)
Stephanie Rose almost missed her train stop twelve times while betaing this. (Now if that is not dedication, I don’t know what is.)
Danielle Buol saved you all from having to meet Mrs. Marched. (She’s kin to Flinted in Fighting Shadows.)
MJ Fryer and Gina Barrett were my lifesavers. They proofread the hell out of this book. (Unfortunately they didn’t proofread these acknowledgements. You have been warned. HAHA!)
Mickey Reed sacrificed the keys H, A, and D on her laptop. (After adding the word “had” approximately 467897363567 times while editing.)
Stacey Blake has already started filtering her emails waiting for me to send her a million emails to fix a typo in her beautifully formatted book. (I mean seriously. Look at that header!)
TRSOR Promotions has more than likely blocked me on Facebook at this point after my one hundredth message that asked, “How many ARCs are we sending out again?”
The Vegetarians have held my hand for ten books now. Encouraging me with the likes of “Eggplant Friday” and “Vegetable porn.” (Don’t ask. I love them so hard! Pun intended.)
Then there are all the bloggers and readers who have left amazing reviews. (There would be no Page brothers without them.)
So to make a long story even longer…Yes, it took a village to publish this book. And I can’t imagine what I would do without them!
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
About the Author
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
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Other Books by Aly Martinez
The Wrecked and Ruined Series
Changing Course
Stolen Course
Broken Course
Among the Echoes
On the Ropes
Fighting Silence
Fighting Shadows
Fighting Solitude
The Fall Up
The Spiral Down