“We have high hopes that you’ll walk again? but until your body starts healing, we just don’t have any clear idea of when that will be.”
“Have you had other people with similar injuries walk again?” Till asked when Eliza finished signing the information for him.
“Of course!” the doctor answered enthusiastically.
But I felt like I had been punched in the gut. “You’ve also had some not though, right? I asked, bitterly.
“Well, yes. Every patient has a different recovery.”
“So, it’s basically a coin toss, huh?”
He didn’t respond as he exchanged a knowing glance with Till.
“Right. Well, you should know, Doc. The coin fucking hates the Page brothers.” I laughed without humor. Pointing at Till, I announced, “Deaf.” Then I waved my arm at Quarry. “Going deaf.” Then I stabbed my finger at myself. “Paralyzed.” I shook my head, looking down at my worthless legs, cursing them for failing me.
“It’s not permanent, Flint. We’re gonna fight this. We’ll get you back on your feet. I swear to God we will,” Till vowed, barely able to contain his emotions.
I wanted to scream and yell that he couldn’t possibly make that promise. But it would have only added to my mounting guilt.
I know, I signed back to him with a forced smile. “Really. It’s okay,” I whispered as Eliza, who was securely wrapped in Till’s arms, broke down.
My attention was drawn away by a knock at the door.
“You up for some company?” Slate asked as he walked in, his wife, Erica, in tow.
Slate Andrews was the former heavyweight boxing champion of the world. But to me and my brothers, he and Erica were the parents we’d never had. Slate owned a boxing gym for underprivileged kids, and considering that the three of us had never fit into a category more, we’d spent most of our time at On The Ropes. He was tight with a lot of the kids at the gym, but it was obvious to everyone that he had formed a special bond with us—or, more accurately, with Till. Like so often in our lives, Quarry and I were just part of the package.
A few years earlier, Slate had given Till the opportunity of a lifetime by bankrolling his efforts to become a professional boxer. A fated chance that had ultimately led us to a moment where I lay paralyzed in a bed and my brother sat across from me as the current heavyweight champion of the entire fucking world, holding the woman I loved.
It didn’t exactly seem fair, but not much in my life was.
“Yeah. Come on in,” I replied, looking around the room at the solemn faces.
My eyes landed on Quarry, who was in the corner, peering out the window. If it weren’t for the softest shake of his shoulders, I wouldn’t have thought much of it.
“Hey, Q,” I called.
He didn’t turn to face me as he answered, “Yeah.”
“You crying over there?” Yep. I went right for it. He was my little brother. Even in a moment that, by all means, should have been emotional, it was still my job to give him absolute hell.
“Fuck you,” he barked at the window.
My lip twitched at his response. “Hey, you can’t be a man and a baby. Either cuss or cry,” I teased, making sure to sign as I spoke so Till could join in the fun.
Slate groaned beside me, and Till shook his head before kissing Eliza’s temple.
“Leave him alone,” Erica urged.
I couldn’t do that at all though. I needed that interaction to keep my mind from spiraling out of control.
In an exaggerated baby voice, I mocked, “Q, you want me to ask the nurse if she has a lollipop?”
“I hate you,” he mumbled, pushing to his feet and storming toward the door.
“I’m just kidding, Quarry. Christ, don’t be so sensitive,” I yelled after him.
When he reached the doorway, he looked up and flipped me off. Tears painted his face, and it would have been a lie if I didn’t admit that it fucking killed me to see him like that, but at least the attention was on him.
“Seriously, Flint? He’s worried about you. Cut the kid some slack, ” Erica huffed as she went after him.
Cut him some slack.
Cut him some slack?
What exactly that meant, I would never understand. We were the Page brothers. Slack was not something we would ever receive—and truth be told, we couldn’t afford to. You know what slack did to a person? It made you soft. Slack left you unprepared and gave you a false sense of safety, all the while slowly working its way around your neck, leaving you a tangled mess and fighting for your next breath. Fuck that. I was doing Quarry a favor by keeping him on his toes. The world didn’t hand out slack.