Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(73)

We didn’t announce to the public that Till had suddenly lost his hearing. He had made his way onto the professional boxing scene after his win over Lacy, but it wasn’t like the press was beating down our door for an official statement or anything. I thought Till liked it that way too. He hated advertising his shortcomings—and that was exactly how he viewed it.

Slate spent months developing a system that would enable Till to know when the round was over. Most of the time, the ref would dive in and divide the fighters, but if Till was still swinging after that bell, he would risk losing a precious point. Back home in the quiet gym, Till could faintly make out the bell, but in a crowded arena, it was swallowed by cheering fans. Ten seconds before the end of the fight, Slate would pound three times on the mat, and Till would count it down in his head before he quit swinging. It was simple, but it took some getting used to. He eventually perfected it—probably a little too well.

“You son of a bitch!” Slate screamed as Leo James tried to drag him away from the other boxing trainer.

Tears fell from my eyes as Till lay on the mat forging his way back to consciousness.

“I will ruin you!” Slate threatened wildly as the crowd snapped pictures of The Silent Storm losing his shit.

It was all I could do not to join him.

The Silencer had just suffered his first defeat. TKO in the sixth round. There was not a single doubt in my head that the judge’s cards had him up by several points. He was dominating the fight in every aspect—except for hearing the bell.

I saw the other trainer watching Slate each round. He’d see Slate pound the mat and his eyes would fly back to Till to watch for a reaction. He knew something was going on; he just couldn’t figure out what.

In the sixth round, with thirty seconds left, that opposing trainer pounded three times on his side of the ring. Slate started shouting immediately, but it was too late. I sat in the front row, holding my breath as I nervously counted to ten. When I got to nine, I watched Till throw one last punch knocking his opponent back a step. As the ref got close, Till dropped his hands and started to turn away. Because he was completely unprotected, a glove landed on his chin and sent him to the ground.

Celebration erupted across the ring, and well . . . that’s when Slate erupted as well.

“Calm the f*ck down!” Leo barked as Slate continued to scream profanities at the other corner.

Flint hopped the railing and rushed to the ring, where they were trying to get a stool under Till. I was breathless as I watched him slowly come around. Flint was signing a million miles a minute, but Till’s face spoke the real words—and they were tragic.

“Come on.” Leo appeared beside me as I watched a much more subdue Slate helping Till from the ring.

“Is he okay?” I asked as I pulled on Quarry’s shirt to drag his attention from his brothers.

“Yeah. His pride’s the only thing that took any kind of real damage.”

“That was so f*cked up,” Quarry said as Leo ushered us back to the dressing rooms.

“It really was,” he replied.

When we got to the door, I could hear Slate yelling, and I steeled myself for a similar reaction from Till, but the second I walked through the door, he smiled and I burst into tears.

“Oh, Jesus. She’s crying,” he teased as he walked over and pulled me into his arms. “I’m fine,” he reassured me, but they were angry tears. There was no soothing them.

I leaned away and signed as I spoke, “That was so messed up.”

“Yeah. It was. I’m good though.”

“Are you sure? You’re entirely too calm right now.”

“I think he’s pissed enough for both of us.”

We both looked over at Slate, who was marching around the room with his phone glued to his ear. He was barking at someone about the boxing commission and integrity. It was so unlike anything I had ever seen from Slate that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, what now?” Quarry asked as he signed.

“Now, we go get some food,” Till replied.

“No, I mean, how bad is it that you lost?”

“Well, it sucks. But the check still cashes the same.” He winked. “Yo, Slate. Let’s get some food. We’re gonna need to figure out a new bell plan.”

Slate waved him off as he continued to rant on the phone.

I watched as Till walked away seemingly unfazed. It was eerie and worrisome.



Oh, God, I silently whispered to myself as I sank down the wall to the cool bathroom floor.

I replayed that ten-count in my head at least a million times. Over and over, I tried to figure out how to make the outcome change.

Quarry’s words scrolled through my mind. “What now?”

I had no f*cking idea.

It wasn’t career ending to lose a fight, but maybe going deaf was. And that little revelation shook me to the core. I had no plan B. I loved boxing, but it was always about the paycheck. Watching that savings account grow meant more to me than any belt I could wrap around my waist. The pursuit of greatness and the dreams of being a legend were great, but Eliza and the boys didn’t rely on me for those things. Their futures rested on my shoulders. The same shoulders that had been flat out on the mat because I couldn’t even hear a f*cking bell.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but the effects were what really did the worst damage.