Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(91)

“Because he’s probably on his way to jail right about now.”

“No!” She jumped to her feet. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“His name isn’t Don, Rocky. It’s Clay Page.”

Her eyes grew wide in understanding. “No way.”

“I have no idea what this was about, but I’m gonna find out. I swear, if he had anything to do with this—”

“He didn’t,” she whispered sadly. “He tried to save me. He yelled at me to run after he shot Davenport…but I remember what he did to Flint and Eliza.” She stopped, and tears once again filled her eyes. “This is too much. Can we just go home now?”

“Yeah, babe… Jesus!” I cursed when I saw her swollen and contorted ring finger.

“I’m fine,” she immediately lied as her father closed in on her.

“No, you are not!”

“What the f*ck!”

“Shit!”

That had all come from the door.

“Medic!” Leo yelled.

“Oh my God, Daddy. Stop! I’m fine.”

“Let me see,” Till said, busting into the middle.

“Move!” Sarah exclaimed, pushing him out of the way.

Flint even got in on the action, lifting his iPhone and talking out loud as he started Googling finger injuries.

I didn’t move. Not even an inch. I sat in the chair, watching her cop an attitude with her parents while batting off my brothers’ concerned hands.

I swallowed hard as the adrenaline started to leave me. My mouth dried, and I folded my hands together, linking them behind my neck to hide the fact that they had begun to shake. My mind went to work terrorizing me with all the possible what-ifs that could have happened. I felt like the biggest * to have roamed the Earth, but the intensity of it all was crippling. I must have looked like hell, because Liv’s attention snapped to mine, concern and understanding painting her face.

“Everyone out,” she demanded. “Now.”

Till walked over and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re okay. She’s okay. We’re all okay. Nothing else matters, Q. Not Dad. Not Davenport. Nothing.”

“I know,” I replied unconvincingly, my impending breakdown only seconds away.

I was still struggling to collect myself when the door clicked behind them. A second later, Liv climbed into my lap.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Nope.” I sucked in a deep breath, holding it as I stared up into her dark-brown eyes.

The warmth only she possessed slid through me, soothing me from the inside out. Her tender gaze slowed the vortex in my head, and with a slight reassuring tip of her lips, the world suddenly became manageable again.

“But I will be,” I finished.

“We both will be.” She brushed her lips across mine. “Every. Single. Day, Q.”

It was a promise.

And the only words that could ever quell the anxiety blazing within me.

“Every. Single. Day,” I repeated back to her.





Six months later…

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!” I yelled at Quarry after he’d taken a hard right. “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted over the sold-out crowd in the same Vegas arena we had almost been ruined in all those years earlier.

“Give him a minute!” Liv shot back, nervously twirling her wedding ring around her finger.

After the whole Davenport incident, Quarry had thrown one of his testosterone-induced temper tantrums and insisted Liv marry him as soon as possible. She’d reluctantly agreed, and then we’d watched yet another one of his fits when he realized “as soon as possible” wasn’t the very next day. As usual, Liv had talked him off the crazy-train, and three months later, they’d said, “I do,” in front of over five hundred guests in an insanely over-the-top wedding in Chicago.

“He’s not going to have a minute if he doesn’t get his head together,” I retorted, flinching when he caught another blow.

“He’s got this,” she assured. “You know Q can’t do anything without being dramatic. This is just the buildup.”

“He does love the drama,” Ash stated in agreement.

“You are entirely too chill right now,” I told Ash. “Just so you know, if he wins this fight, we make double on the next one.”

Her eyes flashed wide, and then she shot to her feet, shouting, “Get your f*cking hands up, Q!”

I laughed without dragging my eyes off the action in the ring.

The bell rang, and Till and Slate climbed into Quarry’s corner, forcing him on to the stool and icing his swollen left eye. Till’s hands were signing a mile a minute, and Quarry was smiling and shaking his head at everything he said.

Little shit.

Some things never change.

At least they didn’t until I caught Liv signing to him, You’re scaring me.

Quarry’s face turned to stone, and he quickly nodded at her.

“You want to sit down?” Ash asked, ducking under my arm.

“No.” I smiled.

Tipping her head to the side, she asked, “What are you smiling about? I figured you’d be cranky Flint after that round.”

I flashed her a wide grin. “This is the dream, Ash. For all of us. I’m standing here, with my wife, in the building where I was shot and paralyzed over a decade ago. Till won his fight. He’s no longer deaf. Eliza’s safe. My father is in prison. And we all have the opportunity to replace the memories of that God-awful night with this moment right here.” I squeezed her tight into my side and kissed the top of her head. “My little brother is about to achieve his lifelong goal of fighting for the world heavyweight championship, where, win or lose, he’ll make enough money to support even our great-great-grandkids. When we were kids, we couldn’t even dream of something this big. And look at us now. We have it all. Cranky Flint doesn’t even exist in this moment.”