Fighting Silence (13 page)

“Wow! Ten days?”

“Yep. He wants to drop out. Warning: he’s pouting about it too. So he’ll most likely be a rude little shit tonight.”

“Oh, please. Quarry loves me. He won’t be rude to me.”

Till shrugged and pushed his front door open.

My eyes immediately landed on Quarry, who was lying facedown on the couch with Flint sitting on top of him. Quarry’s arms and legs were flailing and Flint was laughing.

“Hey! Get off him,” Till growled.

“He tried to take off when you went downstairs.” He turned his attention me and grinned. “Hey, Eliza.”

Flint Page was fifteen-years-old and virtually a carbon copy of his older brother—same black hair and one-sided smile. The only exception being his baby blue eyes. He loved to box and, by all accounts, was amazing at it. But his true love was between the pages of a book. He was a voracious reader that you would never find without a book from the library.

Every other Saturday, the boys would spend the night at Till’s. I would take Quarry to the gym to watch Flint and Till fight in the local amateur league Slate hosted in conjunction with a few other local gyms. I had never seen Flint lose, but, to be honest, I had never even seen Till take a decent punch. They were both the top seeds in their divisions.

“Hey, Flint,” I responded, and he winked.

He was the quiet type but still a flirt just like both of his brothers.

“Get off me, you dickhead.” Quarry struggled to get up as Flint held his position sitting on his back.

Till stomped over and leaned down into Quarry’s face. “Did you just say dickhead? What the fuck did I tell you about cussing? You are ten, not twenty. Act like it! ”

Quarry stilled under Till’s angry gaze. “Then make him get off me,” he whined, reminding me how young he really was.

“You gonna try to take off again?”

“No.”

“I swear to you, Q, if you leave this apartment, I will hunt you down and then drop you off at the police station myself. Who knows! Maybe Dad could use some company in prison.”

The mere mention of their father sucked the energy from the room. Quarry immediately looked ashamed, and Flint’s eyes dropped to the floor. I hated seeing those faces. I might have only been in love with one Page man, but I absolutely loved all of the Page boys.

“All right. Flint, get up,” I ordered, and he stood without question. “Till, put that meatloaf in the oven, and, Quarry, let’s do some homework. I bet you have a ton to catch up on.”

At least they followed directions well. Till went to the kitchen and turned on the oven, Quarry grabbed his backpack, and Flint cracked a book open.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I asked Till three days later as he paced a hole in my bedroom floor.

“I mean the apartment was empty! I went to the front desk and they said she wasn’t evicted, but she didn’t turn in her keys when she left either.”

“What about all of the boys’ stuff?”

“It was gone too! I found some clothes in the closet, but all the furniture and their stuff, like Quarry’s video games and Flint’s books, were gone.”

“Maybe she got robbed?” I offered the only reasonable explanation I could think of.

“She took off with that asshole. I can almost guarantee it. She doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but herself. My father was a piece of work, but he was the only thing that kept her rooted to the family. I can barely believe she lasted three years without him.” Till stopped pacing and ripped the black beanie off his head before throwing it against the wall. “She fucking abandoned them!” Then he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

I took a deep breath and looked knowingly at the ceiling. “I know this is overwhelming, but they’re better off with you anyway.”

He lifted his eyes to mine and whispered, “I’m not sure they are.”

“Are you kidding me? You love them, and sometimes, that’s the hardest thing to get as a kid.”

His eyes grew warm with understanding.

“You would never leave them, so that security alone is better than whatever they had with her.”

“So, what do I do? I share a two-bedroom apartment. Scott’s cool when the boys stay on the weekends, but moving them in is a little different.”

“Till, he’s never there anymore. He spends every single night with Anna. If you didn’t have to help your mom with rent, you could afford to carry the whole apartment by yourself. Maybe bring it up to Scott. Who knows? He might be happy to get out from under the lease and move in with his girlfriend.”

He stared at me, nervously toying with his bottom lip. “Keep going,” he urged.

“Let Flint get a job.”

“No,” he answered firmly.

“Till, he could help out with some of the bills.”

“No,” he repeated.

“We were both working almost thirty hours a week when we were fifteen.”

“Yeah and I also didn’t graduate high school because of it. He makes straight A’s and actually enjoys it. He’s not getting a job. That’s the end of it.”

Suddenly, Flint’s voice came through the ceiling, joining the conversation. “What if I only work a few days a week or on the weekends? I promise I won’t let it mess with school.”

Till’s chin fell to his chest in defeat. “What if you stop eavesdropping and butt out of our conversation? Go watch TV or something.”

Then Quarry spoke up, making me bite my lip to restrain my laugh. “Can I just say, I like Eliza’s idea too. I’d way rather live with you than go back to Mom’s. I can’t believe she took my damn Xbox.”

“Quarry!” Till and I yelled in unison.

“Sorry. It slipped.”

“Go!” Till barked at the ceiling before looking back at me with exaggerated frustration.

“You can do this. I know you can.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Won’t I have to do all kinds of custody stuff? I don’t have money for an attorney.”

“I wouldn’t even bother right now. She took off. Do you really think she’s going to show up tomorrow and fight for them? If, by some miracle, she suddenly decided to get her shit together and be a mom, that’s when we can worry about it. Just keep the boys in school and out of trouble and no one has to know they live with you. It won’t be long before Flint can move out if he wants to, and we’ll worry about Quarry if the time comes.”

He stared at me blankly and started rolling his bottom lip. “I’m really nervous about basically being a parent at twenty-one.”

“Well, would it help if I made twice-baked potatoes for dinner to help ease you into your new role?”

His eyes snapped to mine. “Don’t tease me, woman.”

“I just bought a whole bag of potatoes,” I playfully sing-songed.

“Damn it! Say yes!” Quarry yelled from upstairs.

Which was followed by Flint scolding him. “Really freaking smooth, Q.”

“What? I want those potatoes!” Quarry retorted, making me burst out laughing.

Till let out a huff and shook his head, but he stepped forward, pulling me into a hug. “Okay. You get the potatoes, and I’ll call Scott.”

“Score!” Quarry celebrated upstairs.

I understood, because wrapped in Till’s arms, I was celebrating too.

“Ehm.” He cleared his throat as I snuggled in even closer.

“Oh, right. Potatoes.”

“Just so you know, I’m going to need two. You know . . . fuel for my added duties and all.”

“Right. Of course.” I played along. “How about I just make all of them?”

“I like the way you think, Doodle. That is one sexy brain you are working with.”

My cheeks heated at his compliment. After one last squeeze, Till let me go and headed for the window.

“I’ll make burgers. Bring the potatoes up and make them at my place. Quarry would
love
to help,” He announced over his shoulder, causing Quarry to groan and stomp from Till’s room upstairs.

SCOTT WAS THRILLED WHEN I told him that I wanted to take over the apartment. His lease wasn’t up for another nine months, but he was planning to propose to Anna, so the timing really worked out for everyone. After hearing why I needed the apartment, he made me a killer deal on his bed and furniture. So by the end of the phone call, I had not only a room but also a bed for the boys and a dresser for them to store the trash bag full of clothes I had been able to recover from my mom’s.

Finally, something was going my way.

Two weeks later, everything was going as smoothly as possible. The boys were in school, Quarry seemed to be getting his shit together, and Eliza came over every night when she got off work to help with their homework. We were still counting pennies to pay the bills, but we were together. It had been well worth the sacrifice.

Flint was pissed when I put my foot down about him getting a job. So he decided to take it into his own hands and tattled to Slate, who, thankfully, took my back on the issue—kind of. He agreed that Flint needed to focus on school, but he also thought that it was Flint’s right to be able to contribute to our household. So Slate did what he always did for us—he fixed it.

Flint became the first kid hired at On The Ropes to be paid in actual cash. He still had to earn his keep around the gym, but for two hours every afternoon, Slate paid him to tutor the kids who were struggling in school. Flint loved it, and every week, he signed his paycheck over to me. I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t help. It did, but we weren’t exactly eating steak and lobster every night. Kids were fucking expensive. Especially two growing boys. Jesus, they could eat.

I loved having them around. We felt like an actual family for the first time ever. We still fought over bullshit things, and Quarry wouldn’t stop cussing no matter what I did, but they were good, honest, and respectful kids. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how that had happened when they had been raised by two wheeling-and-dealing scumbags like our parents. I had Eliza to thank for the way I’d turned out . . . but they had figured out how to be decent people all on their own.

It was Saturday night and we were headed to a league fight at On The Ropes. I loved fight nights, but this one in particular had us all buzzing—especially Eliza. It was the night Quarry would debut in the ring. He’d only been boxing for a few weeks, but Jesus, he was a natural. I knew I was good, but I’d never seen someone take to a pair of gloves like Quarry “The Stone Fist” Page. (He announced the nickname approximately twelve seconds after Slate agreed to let him fight.)

“Yo, Till!” Derrick Bailey strutted into the locker room in a pair of khaki slacks and a teal button-down. He was such a tool.

“’Sup. You not fighting tonight?” I asked only so I didn’t look like a dick when I ignored him.

“Nah, man. Slate didn’t tell you? He’s taking me pro!”

I tilted my head questioningly. Not only were my ears failing me but they were now making up words just to fuck with me on their way out.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Yep. I’m going professional. My first fight is next month.” He bounced on his toes and put his hands up triumphantly. “I’m gonna get paid to fuck people up in the ring.” He threw a slow-motion uppercut under my chin.

I was too stunned to even play along with his little game. “Slate doesn’t do pro,” I stated, confused.

“Well, he does now. I guess he decided he couldn’t just pass up talent like mine.” He dusted off his shoulder playfully, but he was wearing at least a hundred-dollar shirt, so he just looked like a douchebag.