“I was in the kitchen. Why are you just standing out there?”
“Honestly? Slate killed me today at the gym. My entire body hurts. You’d have to be dying or have that cheese potato stuff for me to come in tonight.”
“It’s a twice-baked potato, Till. I told you how to make it.”
“I tried! I wasted my last five bucks on burnt potatoes. No, thank you! I’ll just wait for you to make them again.” He leaned in and sniffed the air. “Now, I’m hungry. You’re not making them tonight, are you?”
“No,” I answered then began to laugh when his shoulders fell with disappointment.
“It’s probably for the best. I’ve got the boys tonight. They’d just eat it all. Hey, can you come up and help Quarry with his homework? It’s official—fifth-grade math is over my head. It was a real blow to the ego.”
“Oh, God, no! Not your fragile ego!” I slapped my hands to my cheeks and feigned horror, earning me one of Till’s one-sided grins.
“I know. I took it hard. I had to flex in front of the mirror for a full five minutes before I was able to come down here.”
This probable truth earned him one of my wide grins. “Just five minutes?” I asked suspiciously.
“Okay, fine. You got me. It was ten.” He played along and threw his hands up in the air, only to wince from the movement.
“Give me a second. I was making a meatloaf. I’ll cook it at your place. Did you guys eat at the gym?”
“Yeah, but I’m always down to eat some more.”
“You got any rice? That way we won’t all starve splitting one baked potato?”
“I’ve got noodles!” He waggled his eyebrows, knowing exactly how much I hated his coveted ramen.
“Right. Okay, then. I’ll bring the rice.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll meet you out front.”
After packing the food up, I met him outside. Till immediately took the pan from my hands and waited for me to walk up the stairs ahead of him.
“Why do you have the boys on a school night?”
“My mom got a visit from a truancy officer today. Apparently, Q thought collecting cans for recycling was a more lucrative than going to school. He skipped ten days straight. Thank fuck the officer was willing to brush it under the rug after I asked Slate to take him into the program early.”
“Wow! Ten days?”
“Yep. He wants to drop out. Warning: he’s pouting about it too. So he’ll most likely be a rude little shit tonight.”
“Oh, please. Quarry loves me. He won’t be rude to me.”
Till shrugged and pushed his front door open.
My eyes immediately landed on Quarry, who was lying facedown on the couch with Flint sitting on top of him. Quarry’s arms and legs were flailing and Flint was laughing.
“Hey! Get off him,” Till growled.
“He tried to take off when you went downstairs.” He turned his attention me and grinned. “Hey, Eliza.”
Flint Page was fifteen-years-old and virtually a carbon copy of his older brother—same black hair and one-sided smile. The only exception being his baby blue eyes. He loved to box and, by all accounts, was amazing at it. But his true love was between the pages of a book. He was a voracious reader that you would never find without a book from the library.
Every other Saturday, the boys would spend the night at Till’s. I would take Quarry to the gym to watch Flint and Till fight in the local amateur league Slate hosted in conjunction with a few other local gyms. I had never seen Flint lose, but, to be honest, I had never even seen Till take a decent punch. They were both the top seeds in their divisions.
“Hey, Flint,” I responded, and he winked.
He was the quiet type but still a flirt just like both of his brothers.
“Get off me, you dickhead.” Quarry struggled to get up as Flint held his position sitting on his back.
Till stomped over and leaned down into Quarry’s face. “Did you just say dickhead? What the fuck did I tell you about cussing? You are ten, not twenty. Act like it! ”
Quarry stilled under Till’s angry gaze. “Then make him get off me,” he whined, reminding me how young he really was.
“You gonna try to take off again?”
“No.”
“I swear to you, Q, if you leave this apartment, I will hunt you down and then drop you off at the police station myself. Who knows! Maybe Dad could use some company in prison.”
The mere mention of their father sucked the energy from the room. Quarry immediately looked ashamed, and Flint’s eyes dropped to the floor. I hated seeing those faces. I might have only been in love with one Page man, but I absolutely loved all of the Page boys.
“All right. Flint, get up,” I ordered, and he stood without question. “Till, put that meatloaf in the oven, and, Quarry, let’s do some homework. I bet you have a ton to catch up on.”
At least they followed directions well. Till went to the kitchen and turned on the oven, Quarry grabbed his backpack, and Flint cracked a book open.