Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(81)

He laughed loudly. “You’re so full of shit.”

I really was. Not a toy in the world could replace Quarry. Which was exactly why it was no longer in my nightstand but rather untouched in my panty drawer. I’d gone through more batteries than I’d ever admit over the last few years, but now that he was in my bed every night, I had no use for them anymore.

“Whatever,” I replied when a witty retort failed me. After nabbing a box off the floor, I threw it in his direction. “Okay, you pack the top shelf in my closet, and I’ll handle my unmentionables. Then we can get the hell out of here. The packers can do the rest.”

“Oooo, the top shelf! Whatcha got hiding up here?” he teased.

I shrugged, grabbing my own box and going to work on my drawers. “Not much. Just my collection of midget porn. And the dominatrix whip I’ve not had the chance to use on you yet.”

“Shut the f*ck up!”

“I believe the correct answer is: Yes, mistress. But I’ll give you a free pass for now since I haven’t beaten you into submission yet.”

He chuckled, and I heard him digging around in my closet.

A few seconds later, he sighed. “I’m not sure what it says about me, but I’m disappointed to find out you were kidding. Maybe we should make a stop before heading back to the house.”

I shook my head with a huge smile on my face. “Just pack,” I told him, mentally scheduling a stop at the sex shop to pick up a few last-minute Christmas gifts for my guy.

We both went back to packing boxes.

Holiday music was playing through the speakers in my room while I meticulously folded my underwear, matching them with my bras, when a loud curse caught my attention.

I spun and found Quarry reading papers I immediately recognized.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?” he boomed, murderous eyes jumping to mine.

My chest tightened, but my pulse spiked in anger. No one got to read my letter from Mia. Not even him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I stomped toward him and tried to snatch it from his hands, but he lifted it over his head, holding it out of my reach.

“Please, God, Liv. Tell me this is a f*cking joke,” he snapped.

I stared at him in confusion. What was he mad about? He was reading my letter—not the other way around. I never would have done that to him. Never.

“Did you seriously just read my letter from Mia?” I yanked at his arm, but it was useless. He was too tall and strong for me to do anything about it.

“I damn sure did,” he sneered, storming out of the room.

“Give that back to me. You have no right to…” I rushed after him but paused when I reached his room.

The muscles in his neck were straining, and his nose was still buried in my letter, but his other hand was outstretched, offering a hot-pink envelope my way.

“Why the f*ck have we never traded letters?” he asked without looking at me.

“Uh, because they’re private,” I said, lunging forward and trying to snatch my papers from his hands.

He backed out of my reach.

After tossing the envelope on the bed, he started counting something on the paper.

“Damn it, Q. Give that back to me!”

He finally looked up—a mischievous smile softening his irate face.

“Twenty-seven,” he stated in an eerie whisper. “Twenty-f*cking-seven, Rocky.” He took a dangerous step in my direction.

I instinctively backed away. “W-what?”

He passed me by and snatched the envelope off the bed. “Read it.”

I shook my head. “She wrote that for you. It’s none of my business what it says.”

“You aren’t even the tiniest bit curious?” He quirked his lips, incredulous.

I glanced at the envelope and lied. “If she’d wanted me to read it, she’d have addressed it to me.”

Groaning in frustration, he looked back down. “Right. Loyal to a f*cking fault. Okay.” He laughed without humor. “Quiet, quick, quilt, quirk, quaint, quizzical, queasy, quality, quill, and quasi.” His eyes flashed back up. “And that’s only the first paragraph.” He dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “For f*ck’s sake, Liv. Please tell me you are not this blind.”

Clearly, I was, because I had no clue what the hell he was ranting about. I did know he had my letter and was acting like an * for no reason. I focused on that.

“Give me my letter!” I shrieked, losing all patience.

Quarry had already lost his though. He picked his letter up off the bed and made a dramatic show of opening it and then reading. “‘I love you, Quarry Page. And I know you loved me too. But, if you’re reading this, I’m past tense. You can’t be afraid to move on. Live, Q! Love. In the present! Go! Like, right now! Put this letter down.” He paused and lifted his eyes to mine before finishing. “‘And live.’” He dropped his paper back on the bed and then flipped to the back of mine. “‘You can’t be afraid of the quiet, Liv. The only thing hiding in the silence is the loneliness in your heart. Quell the silence and find a way to move on. Quit living in fear and quench your thirst for life the way you’ve always wanted to. You deserve it.” He stopped and looked up, unimpressed. “Please f*cking tell me that you realize that bullshit makes no f*cking sense.”