Mia spent a good bit of time at Quarry’s apartment. I, however, wasn’t allowed over there at all. My dad had gotten over his issues with Quarry about the same time I had. He knew we were only friends, but he did not approve of his high school daughter hanging out at a guy’s apartment. He never said anything about Flint’s house though. So, on the weekends I was in town, we’d all go over there. It worked because we all loved Ash and she somehow even managed to make grouchy Flint fun.
When it came time for me to go off to college, picking a school and a major was easy. My two best friends were deaf and living in Indianapolis. I didn’t delay in enrolling in the local university there and declaring American Sign Language as my major. Picking a roommate was equally as easy. Mia and I got an apartment right next to the college, only about ten minutes from Quarry’s.
Without the distance dividing us, Mia, Quarry, and I were inseparable.
We were living the dream of college kids everywhere.
Which only made Mia’s deceit that much more unbearable.
When I was nineteen years old, I learned that dreams didn’t exist.
Our happy lives were nothing more than the gentle melody that lulls you into a nightmare.
Mia March died three weeks before her twentieth birthday.
Parts of Quarry and me slowly died for years to come.
“MOVE!” I ROARED, PUSHING THROUGH the cameras all furiously snapping pictures around me.
“Just keep walking,” Slate said, nudging my shoulder before pushing his palm into the chest of a waiting reporter.
I wasn’t famous. Hell, I’d never even stepped foot inside the ropes of a professional ring. The only reason I’d been on the covers of magazines was because of my connections and my bloodline. But I guess when your girlfriend is put on life support the same day you’re supposed to announce your professional boxing debut, the paparazzi makes their own definition of fame.
I’d spent years wishing for the attention Slate and Till got. However, right then, I wished I could push every one of those assholes into the giant pit and light that bitch on fire. Hell, given the way I was feeling, maybe I’d dive in myself.
I dipped my shoulder out of Slate’s grip. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
“Walk,” he growled, pushing me toward my sports car.
Cameras continued to click.
After tugging on the knot, I ripped my tie off and threw it at the closest scumbag, wishing it were my fist instead.
“Quarry! Quarry! Quarry!” the reporters clamored as I pushed a pair of sunglasses up my nose to hide my red-rimmed eyes. “Is it true you were against Mia March being taken off life support?”
Ha! I hadn’t just been against it. I had been fucking rabid about it. And it was exactly why I was being escorted out of her wake. I hadn’t been able to sit there a minute longer and watch her piece-of-shit parents mourn the daughter they’d killed. They’d pulled the plug. They’d made that decision. I would have fought for the rest of my life to keep her alive. But they’d just fucking quit, throwing in the towel before Mia had even had the chance to prove she was stronger than everyone gave her credit for.
“No comment,” Slate barked as flashes continued to fire off around us.
“Quarry! How long had you known about her brain tumor?”
About ten fucking minutes after I’d lost her. She had taken that fun fact to the grave—literally. Bile rose in my throat.
“No comment!” Slate once again pushed a reporter out of our path.
“Slate. Is it true that Quarry’s first fight has been set for next month against Madden? How do you think Mia’s death will affect him in the ring?”
In the ring?
In the fucking ring?
I froze as an angry chill spread over my skin.
Deep breath. Hold it…
Oh, fuck it.
Swinging a hand out, I sent that asshole’s camera flying. I quickly twisted my fist into the front of his shirt, forcing him against a car.
“In the ring, you motherfucker? It’s going to affect my entire goddamn life!”
Slate’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as he desperately fought to drag me away. “Stop!”
I couldn’t though.
She’s gone.
I tightened my grip, staring murderously into his eyes. “You people show up at a funeral home? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t worry about how this is going to affect me in the ring. You should be more concerned with how it’s affecting me right fucking now.”
“Let him go!” Till ordered, appearing beside me. After looping an arm around my waist, he dragged me away.
Flint stepped in to run interference with the douchebag reporter.
“Jesus Christ, Quarry! Calm down. You’re making it worse.” Till pointed toward the building where the woman I loved lay dead in a coffin.
Oh, God.
My eyes, tunneled by rage, flashed around the mob of reporters before landing on the front steps of the funeral home, where an even bigger crowd of Mia’s friends and family were watching me violently break down—again.
“I need to get out of here,” I mumbled, straightening my shirt.
“Good idea,” he replied, shoving me toward my car. “I’ll drive.”
“No. I want to be alone.”
“You can’t drive right now, Q.”
“Watch me.”
“You cannot be behind the wheel…” He carried on with some explanation, but I was more than done listening. The silence had never sounded so good.
Looking up at the sky, I sucked in a breath so deep that it caused my lungs to ache. I refused to release it though.