I removed a hand from his waist only long enough to shove them in my ears. Quarry pressed play on my music and my whole body slacked as the familiar sounds washed through me.
We must have stood there for fifteen minutes before he slowly led us back toward the couch. He was amazing and handled me with absolute caution. Not prying my hands away, he patiently waited for me to take the cue and lie down. Once I’d settled, he climbed on the couch in front of me. His large body teetered on the edge, but he turned and gave me his back again. Then he snagged my arm and draped it over his waist. I could only assume it was the teenage-boy version of holding me tenderly.
But it was Quarry doing it, so it didn’t take but a second for me to realize that it was the best version of all.
And it absolutely ruined me at only twelve years old.
But, then again, Quarry had ruined me long before that.
Even if I hadn’t known it yet.
It should have been difficult to find sleep with as scared as I’d been when I’d woken up. But, with my headphones blaring in my ears and Quarry guarding my front, there was little to fear. He’d rescued me from the deepest, darkest demon hiding in the shadows of my mind.
With him, I was invincible.
We slept tangled together until my father yanked him off the couch, pissed as hell to have found us sleeping together. Quarry didn’t cower or offer any excuses as to what we had been doing. He looked my father squarely in eyes and told him, “She was afraid. I laid down with her and she wasn’t anymore. Sorry. Not sorry.”
It was one hundred percent Quarry Page. Breathtakingly unapologetic.
Emphasis on the breathtaking part.
As he sauntered out the door that night, I called out, “Later, Q.”
And, for the very first time, his response changed.
I only caught the side of his face as he glanced over his shoulder, but that was more than enough to make my cheeks heat. The corner of his mouth lifted in a heart-stopping smile.
“Later, Rocky.”
SOMEHOW, OVER THE NEXT SIX months, I magically found myself in the world’s good graces again.
Till had worked his way up the ladder in the professional boxing world, earning his very first title shot. Win or lose, it was a dream come true.
Eliza was pregnant and expecting their first child—a girl. Thank God! We didn’t need any more Page boys.
Flint had recently graduated high school and was gearing up for college. He was ridiculously smart and could have gone anywhere he wanted. He bitched out, though, and decided to go to the local university in order to stay close to the family. Eliza was ecstatic. I guessed that’d had a big role in his decision. He was weird about her in those days.
I was kicking ass on the amateur boxing circuit, well on my way to following in Till’s footsteps like I’d always dreamed since I’d first climbed through the ropes.
The Page family was happy, and life was simple again.
I should have known it would be short-lived.
We were all in Vegas for two full weeks for Till’s big title shot—and the best part was that we included Liv.
Little did I know that the trip would end up being the biggest nightmare of my entire life…at that point.
In a desperate attempt to settle a gambling debt, my father, Clay Page, crawled out of the woodwork for the first time in years in order to convince Till to throw the fight. His bookie, Frankie, had other ideas. He showed up at our room with a gun and kidnapped Eliza.
I’d fought, but in the end, I was left bleeding and unconscious on the floor as he dragged her from the room.
That was the first time I felt the paralyzing anguish of failing a woman I loved.
I should have been the first line of defense in protecting what was ours. Eliza might have been married to only Till, but she belonged to all of us. I failed my entire family that day.
I could have prevented it all if only I’d been stronger.
Tougher.
Patient.
Careful.
Smarter.
In other words, not Quarry Page.
And I had to live with that knowledge while the police searched for Eliza, not knowing if she was alive or dead.
Flint got to be the hero that day, and his reward was a bullet he took in the back to protect Eliza and her unborn daughter.
It gutted me.
I should have been man enough to do that the moment Frankie had stormed in, waving a gun around. I hadn’t though. After everything they had given me—sacrificed for me—I’d failed them all.
An insurmountable guilt devoured me the day the doctors told us that Flint might never walk again. I would have rather sat in a wheelchair for my entire life than watch the painful reality crumble my brother’s face, knowing that it was all my fault.
It broke me in ways that could never be healed.
I wasn’t a man.
And, for that reason alone, I lost it in the middle of Flint’s hospital room with Eliza, Till, Erica, and Slate all watching on.
“Hey, Q,” Flint called from his bed.
I didn’t turn to face him as I answered, “Yeah.”
“You crying over there?”
I deserved that for what I had done. And especially for what I hadn’t done—protect them.