Page 132 of A Million To Fall

It has to be done.

“Boss is homeless.”

Right on cue, they both gasp.

Before they can start firing questions, I dive in, telling them everything I know: that he’s been homeless for the last two years, that he sleeps in his car, that his mom was arrested—this part they already knew—and that he’s trying to get custody of Cassie and Bronx.

“He’s been looking for a place,” I continue. “Something big enough for the three of them.”

My parents’ full attention is locked on me, their food abandoned in the containers.

My mom sits up straighter. “What’s the issue?”

“Credit, mostly,” I say helplessly. “He doesn’t have any credit history because… well… he was homeless for years. He finally found a place that would’ve been perfect, but they wouldn’t approve him.”

Questions come quickly after that. Most of them I don’t have answers for.

All I can offer are pieces—how hard he works, how long he’s been trying to get his siblings back, how much his family has already been through.

“You know how amazing he is, Mom. And what his family went through after Mr. Rawlings died,” I remind her. I take a deep breath because I know what comes next could change everything. Not just for Boston. For me, too.

“I have to help him.”

The words seem to settle in the room.

If Archer found out I was sitting here asking my parents to help Boston, he’d lose his mind. If Mr. Longfellow found out…

I close my eyes for a moment and breathe. My heart is thrashing in my chest like a caged animal. This is more than just crossing a line.

I’m obliterating it altogether.

“I know the Commons are for domestic violence victims. And they’re supposed to be temporary—” I say.

“NorthStar owns the Commons. And I own NorthStar,” my mom says without hesitation. “I get to decide who is welcome there and whether housing is temporary or long-term.”

I hold my breath.

She folds her hands in her lap. “I have a two-bedroom unit open right now.”

I blink.

“You mean… Mom, do you think this could work?”

She holds my gaze for a long moment. “Yeah. Maybe.”

forty

Skye

It feels like fire ants are crawling under my skin as I sit in my car, waiting for Boston.

It’s barely noon, but I’ve been here twenty minutes already, too restless to stay home, too anxious to do anything productive. I keep checking the clock. Checking the parking lot. Checking the clock again.

I have no idea how he’s going to react.

He might be thrilled.

Or he might be furious that I went behind his back.