Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(19)

I dipped my shoulder out of Slate’s grip. “Get your f*cking hands off me.”

“Walk,” he growled, pushing me toward my sports car.

Cameras continued to click.

After tugging on the knot, I ripped my tie off and threw it at the closest scumbag, wishing it were my fist instead.

“Quarry! Quarry! Quarry!” the reporters clamored as I pushed a pair of sunglasses up my nose to hide my red-rimmed eyes. “Is it true you were against Mia March being taken off life support?”

Ha! I hadn’t just been against it. I had been f*cking rabid about it. And it was exactly why I was being escorted out of her wake. I hadn’t been able to sit there a minute longer and watch her piece-of-shit parents mourn the daughter they’d killed. They’d pulled the plug. They’d made that decision. I would have fought for the rest of my life to keep her alive. But they’d just f*cking quit, throwing in the towel before Mia had even had the chance to prove she was stronger than everyone gave her credit for.

“No comment,” Slate barked as flashes continued to fire off around us.

“Quarry! How long had you known about her brain tumor?”

About ten f*cking minutes after I’d lost her. She had taken that fun fact to the grave—literally. Bile rose in my throat.

“No comment!” Slate once again pushed a reporter out of our path.

“Slate. Is it true that Quarry’s first fight has been set for next month against Madden? How do you think Mia’s death will affect him in the ring?”

In the ring?

In the f*cking ring?

I froze as an angry chill spread over my skin.

Deep breath. Hold it…

Oh, f*ck it.

Swinging a hand out, I sent that *’s camera flying. I quickly twisted my fist into the front of his shirt, forcing him against a car.

“In the ring, you motherf*cker? It’s going to affect my entire goddamn life!”

Slate’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as he desperately fought to drag me away. “Stop!”

I couldn’t though.

She’s gone.

I tightened my grip, staring murderously into his eyes. “You people show up at a funeral home? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t worry about how this is going to affect me in the ring. You should be more concerned with how it’s affecting me right f*cking now.”

“Let him go!” Till ordered, appearing beside me. After looping an arm around my waist, he dragged me away.

Flint stepped in to run interference with the douchebag reporter.

“Jesus Christ, Quarry! Calm down. You’re making it worse.” Till pointed toward the building where the woman I loved lay dead in a coffin.

Oh, God.

My eyes, tunneled by rage, flashed around the mob of reporters before landing on the front steps of the funeral home, where an even bigger crowd of Mia’s friends and family were watching me violently break down—again.

“I need to get out of here,” I mumbled, straightening my shirt.

“Good idea,” he replied, shoving me toward my car. “I’ll drive.”

“No. I want to be alone.”

“You can’t drive right now, Q.”

“Watch me.”

“You cannot be behind the wheel…” He carried on with some explanation, but I was more than done listening. The silence had never sounded so good.

Looking up at the sky, I sucked in a breath so deep that it caused my lungs to ache. I refused to release it though.

Don’t exhale.

Ignoring Till’s protests, I dug my keys from my pocket and folded into my car. Barely managing to squeeze around the relentless reporters, I started toward the exit.

This is not happening.

Don’t breathe.

My lungs were on fire, but it felt a hell of a lot better than what was going on in my heart, so I bit my lip and let it blaze—praying that it would eventually engulf me.

Glancing in my review mirror, I saw the cops rolling into the parking lot, but that wasn’t what made me stop. My breath left me on a rush as I slammed on the brakes the moment she came into view.

Liv was standing in the middle of the road, staring at my taillights.

Her big, brown eyes were as empty as I felt, and her face was painted with absolute anguish. Without out a single second of hesitation, I leaned over and pushed the passenger’s side door open in invitation. In a pair of heels and a short, black dress, she sprinted forward, not slowing until her ass hit my leather seat. Her door hadn’t even shut before I was off again.

After turning her cell phone off, she tossed it in the glove box. Mine quickly followed. She didn’t ask any questions as I pulled onto the highway in the exact opposite direction of both of our apartments. She didn’t want to go home any more than I did.

Our destination was unknown, and that alone made it infinitely better than the one we’d just left.

I drove.

And drove.

Then, when I was sick and tired of aimlessly driving, I drove some more.

With the exception of Liv flipping the radio on when the sun went down, we sat in absolute silence for over four hours.

Alone, yet still together.

Finally, around ten p.m., with an empty tank of gas and sleepy eyes, I slipped into a parking space in front of the apartment Liv and Mia shared. Liv didn’t delay in pushing the door open, but that’s the only effort she put into getting out.