Fighting Shadows (On the Ropes #2)(44)

A lot of things happened over those years spent searching for Ash.

I couldn’t find her, but the most amazing thing happened: I found my fight for life again.

In desperate need of distraction, I threw myself into the gym and physical therapy. If and when I saw her again, I wanted to do it standing so I could tell her to f*ck off eye to eye.

Or strip her naked and lose myself inside her.

Or send her packing without so much as a backward glance.

Or lock her in my bedroom so she could never leave again.

Or walk away, showing her exactly what she had been missing out on.

Or lie in that patch of weeds while listening to her laugh for all of eternity.

Like I said: lots of ups and downs.

I also got really serious with school, graduating from college in just two and a half years.

I added my diploma to the list of things I could throw in her face, proving how well I had done without her.

Or that I could use to provide for her forever.

One of the two.

Definitely one of the two.

But regardless of the reason, positive or negative, Ash was always my motivation.

Moving on was hard, but the world kept spinning and time never stopped.

I got older; I assumed she did too.

I got stronger; I prayed she didn’t need to.

I built a life; I hoped she did too.

I never stopped wishing she would come back; I didn’t even care if she wanted me to.

Then, on a cool Friday morning, the world stopped spinning.

And time came to a screeching halt—at least, for me.

Three years, four months, one week, and five days after Ash Mabie had taken off, I brought her home.



“Wake up, sunshine,” Till said, sauntering into my room, kicking the foot of my bed.

“Jesus Christ, I knew I shouldn’t have given you a key,” I grumbled, clearing the sleep from my eyes.

“Like you had a choice. I made the down payment on this baby.”

“It was a gift, and I said I was gonna pay you back, *.”

He lifted a silver boxing glove keychain in the air and jingled it at me. “Yeah, but until then . . . I get full access.”

“Why are you here”—I rolled over to look at the clock—“at six A.M.?”

“Well, I would have been here at three, but Eliza made me wait. She also made me feed and change little Slate since I was already awake. That took forever. That boy has entirely too much of Quarry’s attitude in him.”

“Did he flip you off and tell you to f*ck off like this?” I asked, giving him the finger as I sat up, only mildly amused by the conversation.

“He might as well have. The kid’s only four months old, but I swear to God he said ‘shit’ the other day.”

I let out a loud chuckle, shaking my head. “Seriously, why are you here?”

“Oh, right. You need to get dressed. We’re going on a road trip.”

“If this has anything to do with scouting another fighter, it can wait until I clock in at nine.” I rested my elbows on my knees, cradling my head and wishing I could go back to bed. I still had two hours before my alarm clock went off; I was in no mood to go on any impromptu road trips.

He didn’t say anything for several seconds until I glanced up to find him watching me warily.

“What?” I growled.

He took a giant step back, well out of my reach, before he said the words I’d both dreaded and dreamed about for over three years.

“We found her.”

My stomach dropped.

My heart stopped.

Flames shot through my veins only to be iced by the nerves that immediately collided against them.

“What?” I repeated on a whisper.

“She’s about ninety miles away. Someone at Willing Hearts homeless shelter started digging around on Victoria Mabie. It pinged on our end, and when the guys got there, they found out she’s been living there for over a year.”

Chills spread over my body as rage brewed in my soul. I blankly held Till’s eyes while anger, relief, and hope all warred inside me.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and passed it to me. Sure enough, there was a picture of Ash smiling, huddled between two elderly women at what looked like some sort of office Christmas party.

Same hair.

Same eyes.

Same face.

Completely wrong smile.

Before Till could even object, I hurled his phone as hard as I could, shattering it and denting the wall.

“Well, okay, then. We’re gonna need to make another stop now.”

“Fuck her,” I said, pushing to my feet and grabbing my forearm crutches, which were leaning against my nightstand.

“Flint—”

“Get out,” I snapped, limping my way to the bathroom.

“Flint, don’t do this.”

Oh, I’m doing it. “I need to get dressed. Have the coffee ready,” I snapped.

Till loudly clapped his hands. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”



Less than two hours later, Till and I arrived at Willing Hearts. It wasn’t the hellhole I had expected, but it still infuriated me that she’d lived there—just within my reach—for so long.

“We’re here to see Judy Jenkins. My name’s Till Page. I believe she’s expecting us,” Till said into the small intercom at the front door.