Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)

Don’t exhale.

Ignoring Till’s protests, I dug my keys from my pocket and folded into my car. Barely managing to squeeze around the relentless reporters, I started toward the exit.

This is not happening.

Don’t breathe.

My lungs were on fire, but it felt a hell of a lot better than what was going on in my heart, so I bit my lip and let it blaze—praying that it would eventually engulf me.

Glancing in my review mirror, I saw the cops rolling into the parking lot, but that wasn’t what made me stop. My breath left me on a rush as I slammed on the brakes the moment she came into view.

Liv was standing in the middle of the road, staring at my taillights.

Her big, brown eyes were as empty as I felt, and her face was painted with absolute anguish. Without out a single second of hesitation, I leaned over and pushed the passenger’s side door open in invitation. In a pair of heels and a short, black dress, she sprinted forward, not slowing until her ass hit my leather seat. Her door hadn’t even shut before I was off again.

After turning her cell phone off, she tossed it in the glove box. Mine quickly followed. She didn’t ask any questions as I pulled onto the highway in the exact opposite direction of both of our apartments. She didn’t want to go home any more than I did.

Our destination was unknown, and that alone made it infinitely better than the one we’d just left.

I drove.

And drove.

Then, when I was sick and tired of aimlessly driving, I drove some more.

With the exception of Liv flipping the radio on when the sun went down, we sat in absolute silence for over four hours.

Alone, yet still together.

Finally, around ten p.m., with an empty tank of gas and sleepy eyes, I slipped into a parking space in front of the apartment Liv and Mia shared. Liv didn’t delay in pushing the door open, but that’s the only effort she put into getting out.

Dropping her head against the headrest, she whispered at the windshield, “Her parents told me she left letters for us. We can pick them up whenever we’re ready.”

“I don’t want a fucking letter. She lied. She’s sorry. I got it. Nothing left to say.”

“Maybe it will explain stuff though. It might help.”

My angry gaze jumped to her, but she was still staring out the window.

“Will it bring her back?” I asked. “No? Then I don’t need a goddamn letter. Fuck that. Fuck her parents too. I don’t want shit from them.”

“They didn’t kill her, Quarry.”

“How can you say that?”

Her eyes finally met mine. “It was what Mia wanted. She signed the Do Not Resuscitate order, not them.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Please, God, tell me you are not actually siding with them? Because, if I recall correctly, we both begged them not to give up on her. They didn’t give a shit about anyone. Liv, they didn’t even get a second opinion.”

“I’m not siding with anyone but Mia. She made a choice. We have to respect it.” Her expression was emotionless, even though her voice trembled.

“Respect it? Fuck her shitty choice. She should have respected me enough to let me have a say.”

She laughed without humor. “You never would have let her go, Q.”

I slammed the heel of my palm against the steering wheel. “You’re goddamn right I wouldn’t have!”

“She had brain cancer. It was going to happen one way or another. She knew it. And she made a decision. We don’t get to be mad about that.”

“Get the fuck out of my car.”

“No. Listen to me—”

“I’ll start listening the moment you stop spouting the bullshit her parents shoved down your throat tonight.”

She raised her voice for the first time all day. “It’s the truth!”

“It’s bullshit! All of it. How am I supposed to respect the fact that she lied to me for six months? Six fucking months that I could have used to prepare for this.”

“Oh my God, Quarry!” she yelled, exasperated. “Do you seriously think six months could have ever prepared you for this? I could have known since the day I met her and I still wouldn’t have been ready to lose her.”

“I could have tried! I could have spent that time devoted to being with her instead of traveling to fights. Jesus Christ, Liv, last weekend, I went out with the guys from the gym to play pool. The last fucking Saturday night of her life on this Earth and I was shooting pool with a bunch of assholes I can barely stand. Six months she kept the fact that she was dying a secret. Six. Fucking. Months. You’re right. I wouldn’t have been ready to let her go, but at least I could have figured out how to say goodbye. Instead, all I got was to squeeze her hand, say, ‘I love you,’ and then be escorted out of the hospital by security. Fuck!”

“That’s because you were acting like a fool and threatening her family! That was your choice!”

“Get the fuck out of my car. Now!”

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