Page 29 of A Million To Fall

My heart feels all gooey in my chest.

My mom sets her fork down slowly. “You’re absolutely right, Archer,” she says. “And that’s one of the biggest gaps. Emergency shelter exists, but not nearly enough. It tends to be overcrowded. Some shelters limit spaces to men, others don’t have appropriate family resources. And temporary housing options are scarce and often require extensive paperwork or take too long to secure. That’s all time a lot of victims don’t have.”

Archer’s brow furrows. “So, what happens?”

His dad responds in my mom’s stead. “Victims go back to their abusers or they never leave in the first place.”

My mom nods, while Archer exhales, shaking his head. “That feels… backwards,” he says. “Like, if the most dangerous point is when people try to leave, that’s when they should be most protected, right?”

My heart flutters at how serious he sounds.

My dad nods slowly. “Brandy’s talked about expanding services for years. Her dream is to provide permanent transitional housing through NorthStar. Somewhere secure, discreet. But it’s… a giant undertaking.”

“A massive funding issue,” my mom adds quickly, almost apologetically. “Property, security, insurance… I already have the land scoped out. It was developer-owned, but the project went bankrupt just a few months prior to completion. It already has buildings that can be finished, but… yeah, finances.”

Mr. Longfellow leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “How much are we talking?”

My mom blinks. “I… well, my estimate is a hundred-fifty to three hundred thousand per unit, turnkey, for a total of up to fifteen million for a fifty-unit complex. And that’s just to get it off the ground.”

There’s a brief pause.

Then Mr. Longfellow nods. “Send me a proposal.”

My mom blinks. “Pardon?”

“A formal proposal,” he repeats. “Scope, timeline, projected costs. I can’t promise anything without seeing details, but…” He glances at Archer, then back to my mom. “This sounds like exactly the kind of project that should exist. And if it’s as well-run as NorthStar, I’d be very interested in supporting it—personally and through my network.”

My mom’s mouth falls open, her eyes welling up. Just like that, fifteen million dollars turns from a pipe dream to an actual conversation. My dad always says connections only hurt those who don’t have them. I finally understand that phrase.

“Oh, that’s… incredibly generous,” she says, voice cracking. “I’ll get started immediately.”

“Not tonight,” Mr. Longfellow says warmly. “Tonight, you’re our guest. Enjoy dinner first.”

I smile widely at Archer, who radiates pride.

My mom reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Archer.”

I was right. This is serious.

fourteen

Skye

It’s been almost four months.

Four months with Archer, of morning wake-up calls and Sunday brunches, of movie dates and steamy make-out sessions.

And it’s been four months without Boston.

He never came back to school. None of us have heard from him. Our texts and calls go unanswered, and with each passing week, the notifications fade into a void that doesn’t send anything back.

Winter melted into spring like nothing had happened, and despite the way Boston vanished—literally from one day to the next—it doesn’t seem like anyone outside of our group is concerned. No announcements. No social media alerts. No missing person flyers tacked to telephone poles or the school’s bulletin board. Nothing.

Like Boston never existed.

I brought it up with my parents a few times. Each time, they gave me the same vague reassurance.

His family probably moved, Skye. These things happen.