Page 101 of A Million To Fall

I’ll never not hate leaving them with strangers at the end of the day, even if they’re nice. They’re still strangers. They’ll never love them like I do. They’ll never quit every job at the drop of a dime, move towns twenty-four hours later, or do things they’ll hate themselves for if it means Cassie and Bronx are okay.

But I would.

I did.

I glance at Skye sitting in the passenger seat, just to make sure she’s not somehow reading my face. I swear, sometimes it feels like everyone can see the shame. Like it’s stamped across my forehead.

But Skye isn’t looking at me. She’s too immersed in typing something on her phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask, mainly to fill the unsettling silence in the car, watching my siblings’ temporary home disappear in the rearview mirror.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her look up.

“Texting with Lil.” She shows me her phone, like I could or would read her messages. “She’s back in town. I’m going to sleep over at her place tonight.”

I nod. “Good. So you won’t be alone.”

“Yeah. How about you? Got grand plans for the rest of the day?”

“No,” I say. “I might try and call it an early night.”

Skye huffs a breathy laugh. “Good call. You didn’t exactly get great sleep on that couch last night.”

I smile, even though I have a sneaking suspicion I won’t get great sleep tonight, either. I’m bound to owe Mrs. Davis for not coming back to the house last night.

Skye’s phone buzzes. I suspect it’s Lily, calling to solidify plans for dinner or whatever show they’re going to binge tonight. Or maybe to discuss nail polish colors. I don’t actually know what twenty-year-old women do when it’s just them. Maybe plot world domination. Wouldn’t put it past them.

But when I glance at her, Skye’s face is guarded, head turned toward the passenger window. “Hey Arch,” she answers the call. Suddenly my car feels like a metal box—stuffy and claustrophobic.

“You have reception?” she asks.

I try not to eavesdrop, but… yeah, okay, I’m eavesdropping. Not that I can really avoid it. Archer’s voice is audible even without him being on speaker.

“Just stopped in town for some supplies and thought I’d check in on you,” he says. “Where are you? You’re not home.”

“Oh, uh, just on my way back home, actually,” she says.

“But why were you in the ghetto?”

I frown. Not because of the ghetto comment—though that sure as hell doesn’t help—but because Archer seems to know exactly where she is.

He knows she isn’t home.

He knows she’s driving.

He knows what side of town she’s on.

My stomach tightens.

He’s tracking her.

“Oh, I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Skye,” he growls before she can get another word in. I grip the steering wheel tightly.

“I went to the park with… some families I know from the rec center.” Not a lie. Not exactly.

“Why?” he barks.