“I think it’s too soon.”
“Quarry, you’re up!” he called out, never dragging his gaze away from mine.
“Puh, puh, please, Eliza. We’re hungry,” Quarry exaggerated, full-on batting his long, black lashes.
Till bit his lip to stifle a laugh, but Flint let it fly freely.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re moving my stuff regardless of what my answer is, right?”
“Yep.”
“Absolutely.”
“Hell yeah.”
I once again rolled my eyes, but an impossibly wide smile gave me away.
“She’s in!” Till declared.
He wasn’t wrong.
FOR THOSE FIRST FEW WEEKS after Eliza moved in, I was a nervous wreck pretty much every minute of every day. I waited for her to disappear, proving my theory that she had no business in reality. But each morning as she woke up in my arms, I slowly started to believe that I could possibly have it all.
On the surface, things went right back to the way they always had been between us. Except, instead of sneaking in her bedroom window, I was sneaking into her shower. I couldn’t get enough of her. After years of fighting my constant desire to be with her, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She must have felt the same way, because if I was within her reach, she was touching me too. Her body was healing, but she still offered it to me—and I took it every fucking time.
Derrick Bailey was officially removed from our lives. He had been arrested and found guilty of assault. Not even dear old daddy had been able to get him off the hook, and lord knows he tried. Thanks to Slate speaking at his sentencing, his punishment was rather lengthy. It still didn’t feel like enough for what he had done to my Eliza, but I breathed easy every night knowing he could never touch her again—not as long as she slept at my side.
After my week off to help Eliza heal, I formally began professional boxing at On The Ropes. Slate wouldn’t schedule my first fight until he felt I was ready, and if the way he was training me was any indication, he had been right in holding me back. I was struggling to keep up with the unbelievable regimen he’d created for me. I’d worked hard my entire life, but this was something else completely. By the time I got home from the gym each night, I could barely keep my eyes open. But every day, as I stared up at that painting on the wall, I knew it would be worth it. He couldn’t work me hard enough to erase the image I had of someone painting my name into that blank. I was hell-bent on making it happen.
With the new paycheck, things loosened up around the Page house. We weren’t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but for a crew of kids who truly knew what it meant to be broke, it sure felt that way. Especially on occasions when we could afford to actually celebrate.
“Happy birthday, Quarry!” Eliza clapped as the waiter brought plates for the cake she’d spent half the day baking.
“Eleven feels pretty good.” He rubbed his stomach, sliding down to recline in the booth.
Flint laughed beside him as he polished off his burger.
“I’m serious. I could get used to this life.” Q dragged his finger across the side of the cake, scooping off the frosting and shoving it into his mouth.
“So I was thinking. What about Till ‘The Terminator’ Page?” I asked.
“Lame!” Eliza and Flint vetoed.
“Hey. I kinda like that.”
“Thank you, Q!”
We high-fived over the table.
My new boxing nickname had been the hot topic of conversation over the previous few weeks. Slate had put a special clause at the end of my boxing contract stating that, “Till ‘The Kill’ Page” wasn’t cool enough.” Yes. He’d actually used that exact sentence in a legally binding document. He’d thought that it was pretty funny, but when I’d asked if he was kidding, he’d answered with a resounding no.
We couldn’t decide on anything. It felt like all the good ones had already been used or just didn’t fit. Earlier that afternoon, Slate had informed me that my new name was due by the next day or I was fired for breach of contract. He’d said it with a smile, so I doubted that he was serious, but I’d decided to play it safe just in case.
“Vicious Fury?” Flint suggested then popped a fry into his mouth.
“Fists of Fury!” Eliza shouted excitedly.
“Been used already, baby.” I dropped my napkin on my plate and draped an arm around her shoulders. “The Whirlwind?”
Quarry vetoed that one. “Stupid.”
“Okay, what about Till ‘The Strong Will’ Page,” Eliza suggested as she began cutting the cake.
“Oh no.” Flint threw his hands over his mouth, feigning fear. “You’ll never beat Till Page, he has a . . . a”—his chin quivered dramatically—“strong will!”
We all busted out laughing. Well, everyone except Eliza. She threw a candle.