Page 188 of A Million To Fall

I let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “You’re telling me he loves me, Jake, but he’s been sleeping with your mom? Your mom, Jake! How are you so calm?”

“Because I know the full story,” he shoots back. “Trust me, there was a reason I beat his ass last night, but—” He drags a hand through his hair. “There’s a lot more to it than him just… banging my mom.”

“But he… he cheated on me.”

The words feel wrong the second they leave my mouth.

We were never together. Not really.

And I—

God. It’s all so messed up.

Still, the thought of him with her is unbearable.

Jake shakes his head. “You’re telling me you weren’t still with Archer while you were already falling for Boss?”

I don’t respond. We both know he’s right.

I have zero right to feel this way.

And yet, I do.

“Look,” Jake says, softer now. “I’m not telling you what to do about you and Boss. But I am telling you—begging you—to hear him out.”

He rests a hand on my shoulder. “All you have to do is listen, okay? Please. We owe him that.”

I don’t know how long I stand there, but it’s long enough for my breathing to slow.

Jake’s eyebrows rise. “Let’s head back in?” His hand drops from my shoulder.

I nod, then turn back toward the room.

My chest still feels tight. My head still spinning.

None of this makes sense. None of it feels fair. But I guess Jake’s right. I owe it to Boston to at least listen.

I push the door open, my heart thumping so hard it drowns out the beeping of the machines.

Boston hasn’t moved. He’s still lying against the stiff hospital pillow, pale and bruised.

The second I enter the room, his eyes find me. Judging by the look on his face, I think it’s safe to say that our feelings match. We’re both terrified of what comes next.

I hesitate in the doorway, but step in when Jake squeezes past me.

He pulls his chair back this time. Away from Boston’s bed and to the wall. Giving us space.

I walk back to the chair beside Boston’s bed and sit, stiff and uncomfortable. I don’t reach for him this time. Just rest my hands in my lap.

“I’m listening,” I say, eyes locked on him, trying not to let my emotions—my nerves—give away how much of a mess I am. Probably too late, but I’m desperate to hold on to a shred of dignity.

Boston’s gaze drops to his blanket, then to the IV, then to Jake. Anywhere but me.

His jaw ticks once. Then again.

“I didn’t—” he starts, then stops.

Swallows.