Page 164 of A Million To Fall

Wife.

“Boss?” Jake says softly. “You okay?”

I fall back onto the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “I don’t know.” It comes out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, man,” he says, and I believe him. “I just thought you should hear it from me. Before it shows up on social media or something. I didn’t want you to be blindsided the next time you see her.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I appreciate that.”

He pauses. “What are you gonna do?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. “Nothing to do. I mean… we weren’t together. I don’t have a right to—” I stop. Try again. “There was never anything between us.”

We both know that’s a lie.

For a long moment, I hear only the sound of faint conversation traveling through the phone. “Want me to come over?” Jake finally asks.

“No. I just… I think I need a minute.”

“Okay. But call me, yeah? If you need anything.”

“I will,” I lie, and hang up.

The silence is no longer comforting. It’s suffocating, tightening around my throat.

I don’t know why I do it. Maybe I’m trying to prove Jake wrong. Maybe I want it to be a joke. A mistake. Maybe I want to hurt myself a little, just to make it real.

I open the first social media app on my phone.

I don’t even have to scroll. It’s right there, smacking me in the face.

A picture of Archer with his arm slung around Skye’s waist and… god.

She’s wearing a white silk gown covered in light pink flowers. It looks soft and delicate. My heart squeezes with how much she looks like a bride already. The fabric hugs her beautiful curves, her makeup is flawless, hair done up. She looks like something out of a movie. Out of a dream.

My dream.

And just below the picture:

@_King_Archer_: She said ‘Yes!’ Can’t wait to make this girl my wife.

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Something sharp pierces my chest.

Not just hurt. Something hotter and way uglier.

She didn’t trust me to talk through her plan to help me. She decided for both of us.

And for a second, I hate that she did that.

I hate that she didn’t give me the chance to tell her I don’t need saving. That I’d never ask her to take the hit for me.

My jaw locks.

What if she isn’t sacrificing herself?

What if she actually wants this—Archer, that life, that name?