Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(6)

I was stuck only two buildings away, babysitting my brothers. Flint was eleven. He probably would have been fine sleeping alone in the apartment, but Quarry was only six. I couldn’t just leave.

“Shit!” I shouted, pulling my beanie off and throwing it onto the couch. “Tonight of all f*cking nights!” I began to rant to myself.

“Till?”

I heard Quarry as he walked out of his bedroom, fully dressed in dirty clothes. As far as I knew, the kid only owned two pair of jeans. Forget about pajamas.

“It’s all good, buddy. Go back to bed.”

“Mom’s still not back?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“No, but it’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” I ruffled his thick, black hair.

“Don’t you have a date?”

“Something like that.”

It was the biggest understatement of the year. It wasn’t something like that. It’s Eliza. It was bigger than a date. I’d spent f*cking weeks saving up to buy her a present. Now, I couldn’t even give it to her on her actual birthday.

I rolled my bottom lip with my fingers and debated what to do. Mom would show up eventually, but I was sure it wouldn’t be until the morning. God only knew where the hell my dad was. He was even more worthless than she was. I had never missed a night with Eliza, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to start on her birthday.

“Hey, Quarry. Put on some shoes. Take a walk with me real quick.”

“Okay!” he said excitedly, making me laugh for the first time in hours.

I went to the boys’ room and nudged Flint. “Hey, I’m taking Q and going for a walk. You gonna be okay for a few minutes alone?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, rolling over and falling immediately back asleep.

I opened the hall closet and pulled out the vase I’d stashed in the back.

“Ready!” Quarry exclaimed.

I ran my eyes over his dirty shirt and shook my head. “Let’s go.” I headed out the door with him hot on my heels.

He talked nonstop as we weaved through the buildings. “Hey, where we goin’? Did you make those flowers? Is that for your girlfriend? Do you even have a girlfriend? What’s her name? Can I meet her?”

“Jesus! Quarry, shut it!” I growled, but he quieted for only a minute.

“Does she live here?” he whispered, and I gave him a frustrated glare that only made him smile and shrug.

When we got to the apartment, I could see the light peeking out of the window. She is in there.

My heart began to race—just like it did every time before I saw her.

“Stay here,” I said to Quarry as I started to approach the window, but I heard his footsteps following me. I quickly turned to face him. “What are you doing? I said to stay on the sidewalk.”

“It’s dark!” he whined as an answer.

“You can’t go with me. Just . . . Stay. Here,” I continued toward the window, and Quarry once again moved with me. “Stop following me!” I whisper-yelled.

“It’s really dark, Till!” he whisper-yelled right back.

I let out a huff. “Then go stand in that breezeway under the light.” I pointed to the building next door.

“Fine. Walk me over there.”

I gave him an impatient look that sailed right over his head. “Come on.” I stomped off, frustrated.

Even at six years old, he actually had the balls to giggle as he followed.

Once I had Quarry planted inches away from a light, I made my way back toward the window. My heart was pounding, and the vase in my hand rattled as I drew near.

It was just Eliza.

Shit. It was Eliza. My pulse spiked once again.

“Hey!” she exclaimed as I pried the window open.

My nerves calmed immediately at the sight of her face. She’s still there. Almost four years later and she was still there.

“Hey, birthday girl!” I was careful to keep my hands low so she couldn’t see her present.

“Why are you standing out there? Get in here.”

“Ugh. I can’t. My mom took off . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to dump all of my shit on her tonight. I should have been singing “Happy Birthday” and holding her sketchpad—or, more accurately, staring down her shirt while she leaned over to draw.

“Where’d she go?” she questioned, standing up from a blanket on the floor. I made a mental note to find something more comfortable for her to sit on.

“To get cigarettes . . .”

“Oh, okay.”

“Six hours ago,” I finished.

“Ah.” When she stopped, she was only inches away, but a whole world in the shape of a window divided us.

“I’m sorry, Doodle. I can’t leave them alone. I just . . . Well, happy birthday.” I lifted the vase filled with paper flowers into her view.

“Till!” she gasped as her hands covered her mouth. Then a loud laugh escaped her throat as familiar tears welled in her eyes.

Eliza was a crier. She pretended that it was only when she was mad. That was bullshit though. She cried every time the wind blew north. Happy, sad, angry—it didn’t matter.

I loved it when she happy cried. I laughed when she angry cried. I was gutted when she sad cried. I’d held her through all of them. But her reaction that night was extraordinary. I guessed my present was pretty extraordinary too though.