“Stop showboating and finish this shit!” I signed, squirting water in Quarry’s mouth.
If his wicked grin was any indication, though, he didn’t give a damn what I’d said. He was going to finish the fight the way he wanted. Such was life with Quarry. And it had only gotten worse over the last few months.
When Davenport had been deemed mentally incompetent to stand trial, Quarry had changed. I’d expected him to do what he usually did and get pissed off and show his ass in one of his usual hotheaded ways. He hadn’t done any of that though. Quarry had actually chilled out. It was like that wedding ring Liv had slipped on his finger held some sort of magical powers—or, at the very least, tranquilizers. When the judge had issued his verdict, I hadn’t been required to wrestle Q to the ground in order to keep court security from tasering him. He hadn’t even flinched, actually. He’d just walked out of the courthouse with his arm draped around his new wife and never looked back.
Liv was a saint. I’d spent my entire life up until that point trying to keep Quarry from overflowing, and she could do it with a single glance. Like the one she’d just shot him from outside the ropes. It was exactly why he was smiling. And the only reason I had any faith that this might actually be the final round.
As Q pushed to his feet, I followed Slate out of the ring.
“He gonna stop screwing around?” Slate asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shrugged. “Hell if I know. Ask that one.” I pointed over to Liv, who was nervously toying with her ring but doing it while sporting a mischievous smile that matched my brother’s.
My eyes drifted to Eliza, who was doodling on a sketchpad, not paying any attention to the fight. She loved boxing. She just hated watching Quarry. I couldn’t imagine how she was going to handle it when little Slate got in the ring. He was already chomping at the bit, but she’d made me promise to wait until he was at least eight. Only a few more months.
As if she could sense me watching her, her gaze flipped to mine. “You did it,” she mouthed as she signed.
I arched an eyebrow and signed back, “Did what?”
“This.” She motioned her finger down the front row, where Liv, Ash, and Flint were all sitting. “That.” She pointed to Quarry in the ring. “All of it.”
I shook my head as the bell rang, starting a new round. “They did this.”
She smiled and then tipped her chin to the ring.
I looked back up in time to see Quarry storm forward, dodging a jab before landing a combination ending with a knockout left hook.
The arena exploded in loud cheers as the ref started to issue the count.
My heart exploded when he got to ten.
He did it.
He fucking did it.
Pride soared.
Flint and Liv appeared at the ring before I even had a chance to climb inside. Liv wasn’t exactly one to adhere the formalities, so she was in the ring with her legs locked around his waist before his opponent had even made it off the mat.
My mind was reeling as I spun in a circle, listening to the crowd chanting our last name. It made me a bitch, but the emotions of it all were staggering. Photographers clicked away, capturing history. The crowd roared, celebrating right along with us. Every major network on television had a cameraman on the skirting, fighting for the best angle.
I could have been blind and still would have had the best seat in the house just because I was his big brother.
That was how championships were supposed to be won. Quarry didn’t have to rush from the ring to find out his brother had been shot. His pregnant wife hadn’t been kidnapped. He got to actually enjoy it.
And, because of that, I was wearing an impossibly wide smile and enjoying it too.
Amongst the chaos, I found myself looking for Eliza once again. Ringside was a mess, but I finally located her standing on her chair in the front row, holding her sketchpad up. Scrawled across it, in big letters, were the words: This is reality.
I couldn’t fight back the emotions any longer.
Reality didn’t seem like the right word at all.
That moment felt a whole lot like fantasy to me.
Standing in the middle of the ring while thousands of cameras flashed around us, I kissed Liv one last time before lowering her back to the feet.
“Go. Celebrate,” she signed, backing into my corner.
The sound of the announcer’s voice was so loud that even my weak ears couldn’t miss it. “Winner and new heavyweight champion of the world, Quarry ‘The Stone Fist’ Page!”
The ref made a move to grab my glove, but I had other plans. Evading him, I walked to my corner. Tearing at the tape on my gloves with my teeth, I yanked them off without even asking for help.
Slate smiled proudly as I lifted both fists and bowed to him with immeasurable gratitude.
“Thank you,” I mouthed.