Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(7)

“I’m good. I swear.” And, for the first time since Till had dropped the bomb, it wasn’t a lie.

I now had a purpose.

And her name was Liv James.

She craned her head back, and her big, brown eyes bored into my soul unlike anything I’d ever felt before. They were puffy and red from her crying, but they were still mesmerizing.

And comforting.

And exactly why I had to look away.

“What the hell!” Slate boomed.

I released her hand seconds before her fist landed on my chest.

“You jerk!” she yelled at me, but her eyes never turned angry. If anything, they softened.

My gaze flashed to Slate, who looked murderous.

“This is the boys’ locker room, Liv!” he barked, clearly mad to have found her in there. But probably angrier that she was in there alone—with me.

A devilish grin formed on her pink-glossed lips before she spun to face him. “Sorry, Uncle Slate. Quarry pushed me in the hall. I couldn’t let him get away with it. You taught me better than to let a boy hurt me.”

Son of a bitch!

I couldn’t see her face, but I was positive she was batting her lashes. And, as she sniffled and wiped her hands under her tear-stained eyes, I knew she was milking it.

Dropping my head back, I cursed at the ceiling.

“Quarry!” he snapped, but I didn’t need him to finish.

I walked toward the door. “Yeah. I got it. Six laps. I’ll meet you in the ring when I’m done.”

Just as I got to the door, her angelic voice called out, “Later, Q!”

Shaking my head, I responded, “Later, Liv!”





AS TIME PASSED, QUARRY AND I only became closer. We were best friends. And, even though we didn’t get to see each other every day, it was unforgettable each time we were together.

Over the next year, Till’s dream came true as he started boxing professionally. Uncle Slate was his trainer, which meant, as the head of his security, my father was on the road with the Page family more often than not. It also meant that I got to see Quarry almost every weekend. Those visits were the highlights of my week. I spent Monday through Friday at my private school in Chicago, counting down the days until I got to see those hazel eyes and that boyish smirk again.

Quarry followed through on his promise to me and tried really hard not to go deaf, and I followed through on my promise to him and learned sign language just in case. I had to quit soccer in order to make the nightly classes at the local community center, but I was okay with that. Quarry was more important, and to be honest, shin guards and grass stains clashed with everything.

When I was ten, Quarry beat the snot out of some kid at one of Till’s professional boxing matches for having called me a nerd. I hadn’t even heard the comment because I’d been wearing my headphones and engrossed in a book. But that didn’t mean I didn’t take great pleasure in watching Quarry teach that jerk a lesson. He was always there for me, even when I didn’t even know I needed him to be. It was yet another layer of security my timid soul so badly needed.

A fragility only Quarry knew existed within me.

And one he protected regardless of the punishment that usually followed.

When I was eleven, I broke my arm after he’d finally given in to my constant begging and agreed to teach me how to skateboard. He’d tried to catch me as I’d fallen, but the skateboard had clocked him pretty nicely in the head when it shot out from under my feet. He never left my side as I lay crying on the sidewalk. After ordering a kid to get my mom, he rubbed a soothing hand up and down my back while whispering profuse apologies intertwined with a million curse words. Just before we left for the hospital, he brazenly climbed into the backseat beside me even after my dad had told him that he couldn’t go. Quarry didn’t budge though.

Burying his hands in his lap, he boldly returned my dad’s stare in the review mirror and said, “No disrespect, Leo, but this is my fault. I’m going.”

We all knew that it wasn’t his fault, but after a quick glance at me, and at my mother’s urging, my dad gave up and slowly pulled out of the parking lot.

With a black-and-blue knot on his forehead, Quarry spent four hours painting my cast to look like a zombie hand. My dad laughed and patted Quarry’s shoulder as I proudly showed it off around the gym. It was badass—especially after my mom had added a purple bow around the wrist.

Later that same year, Quarry’s life got even harder when his oldest brother suddenly went deaf. The whole On The Ropes family pitched in to help the boys during the initial adjustment. And that family included my mom and dad. We spent a week in Indianapolis. I hated the reason why we were there, but spending a whole week with Quarry was the equivalent of a Disney vacation for me.

Unfortunately, it didn’t feel like one. During that time, I saw something in Quarry Page I’d never be able to forget: fear. Of course, he’d never admit it, but the broken innocence hidden behind those hazel eyes was devastating even to a young girl like me. My heart shattered for him.

For the present in which he was forced to watch his brother fumbling through his new life in silence.

But mostly for the future in which he’d share the same fate.

He leaned on me. Or, more accurately, he let me sit beside him while he repeatedly held his breath and pretended the world didn’t exist. Quarry wasn’t lying; he did like the quiet. He also liked the dark. So, with my headphones blaring in my ears and my iPad illuminated in my lap, I spent countless hours in a secluded corner, pretending tears weren’t dripping off his chin. We were at least six inches apart and we never spoke a single word. But we were together all the same. My company was the only comfort Quarry would allow me to offer him.