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simply before settling next to him. My parents weren’t going to worry if I didn’t come home, but I’d worry about Till waking up in time if I left. “You know if you ever need . . .” He interrupted me before I could offer any assistance.
    “Night, Doodle.” He rolled away, halting all further conversation.
    Eventually, I fell asleep. We weren’t cuddled up next to each other the way I would have preferred the first time we ever slept together, but after a terrible night, I still fell asleep with cheeks that were sore from smiling.
    Even at seventeen I knew I loved Till Page, but I didn’t have grand dreams of how perfect our lives would be together. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. But I think it was more because I didn’t want to face the fact that there was a future at all—one that may or may not have included him. I just wanted to live with Till in the present where there was no pressure to pretend to be anyone else. A present where I kept his stomach full of canned foods, and he kept me warm and needed. I scratched his head, and he healed my heart.
    One day they were going to knock down that building and snatch that life away from us. But with a half boy half man snoring loudly beside me, I was blissfully blinded by the present.

THE DAY I FOUND ON The Ropes boxing gym, my life changed forever. I had been going to high school, working two jobs, and spending almost all of my paychecks to keep a roof over my brothers’ heads. I’d walked past that old vacant building every day on my way to and from my job at the grocery store. Then, one day, there were about twenty trucks outside and workmen covering the sidewalk. I didn’t give it much thought as I passed, but I swear, by the time I went home that night, there was a brand-new gym complete with decaled windows.
    The next day at school, they passed out fliers advertising a new after-school program at On The Ropes. It contained my favorite word in the English language: free. Rumors were flying around that the former professional heavyweight champion Slate “The Silent Storm” Andrews owned the gym and would be personally running the program. Half the school had plans to enroll just to meet him.
    In those days, I liked to keep myself as busy as possible. But when football season was over, I was left with entirely too much time between school and when Eliza would show up at the apartment. I sure as shit didn’t want to spend that time at the piss pot my parents called home—the same one I was working two jobs to pay for since they couldn’t get their shit together.
    A free boxing program sounded like the perfect fit.
    I decided to skip chemistry to scope it out and, hopefully, secure my spot before the after-school rush hit.
    “Well, that was fast,” Slate fucking Andrews said from the front desk as I entered the gym.
    The place was amazing. Everything was new and crisp white, red, and black. Two rings stood in the middle of the huge, open room, weights and various types of punching bags filling the rest. Mirrors covered the length of the room on one side, and jump ropes were hanging from hooks in every corner. But my eyes were instantly drawn to the giant words painted in script above the mirrors:

    “Your name going in that blank?” he asked when he followed my gaze.
    “Uh . . .”
    “Okay, maybe we should start with: what’s your name?” He pulled a clipboard from behind the tall, wooden counter.
    “Um . . .” I continued to stutter, starstruck.
    He chuckled and extended a hand. “Slate Andrews.”
    I wiped my palm on my jeans before lifting it to his. “Sorry. Till Page.”
    “Well, nice to meet you, Till.” He pushed the clipboard in front of me. “Our gym rates are as stated, depending on the membership plan you choose. We have yearly, monthly—”
    “Oh, um, sorry. I thought it was free.” I looked up, embarrassed.
    “Free?” His eyebrow quirked as he crossed his arms over his