Page 48 of A Million To Fall

“Yes?”

He points at the snack boxes Lily is now in the process of stacking into something akin to a pyramid. Clearly, she’s having fun with this. “Can I have one?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know.” I look around for an adult in charge. “Do you normally have a snack time or is it, like, a free-for-all?”

The boy tilts his head, a small crease between his brows. “What’s a free-for-all?”

“It basically means you can just grab one whenever.”

His face explodes into delight. “Yeah, it’s a free-for-all.” He moves to grab a box.

Lily gasps a surprised “Oh my god,” just as I hear a male voice call, “Bronx!” The voice comes from across the gym, low and familiar enough to make every nerve in my body go still.

The little boy steps back quickly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, a look on his face like innocence personified. I glance toward the unexpected voice of authority and… oh.

Now I understand why the boy looked so familiar.

Boston’s little brother.

I've met him before. Plenty of times, back when he was really little. But it’s been years, and kids have a way of changing so quickly that they almost become different people.

Boston is walking toward us, a mesh bag of soccer balls slung over one shoulder, his eyes fixed on Bronx.

“Bronx,” he says again, softer this time, though there’s still warning in it. “You know it’s not snack time yet.”

Bronx’s shoulders climb toward his ears. “She said it was a free-for-all.”

“I said I didn’t know if it was a free-for-all,” I correct quickly.

Boston’s gaze flicks to me, recognition dawning in real time. Everything in his face changes. Not dramatically, but enough. His mouth parts, then closes again, and the strap of the ball bag shifts in his hand.

“Stormy,” he says quietly.

No one’s called me that in years. It’s one look, one word, yet my whole body responds like it remembers him better than my mind does. It’s so… inconvenient and totally unhelpful.

“Hey, Boss,” I say, too breathy, too quiet, too—

“Well, hello, sir!” Lily exclaims and throws herself into Boston’s arms.

“Hey, Lil.” He pats her back with his free hand.

Bronx looks between the three of us. “Do you know them?”

He doesn’t remember me.

Boston clears his throat. “Yeah. This is Lily,” he says before his gray eyes lock on mine. “And that’s Skye.”

Bronx’s mouth drops wide open. “Skye? The Skye that—”

Boston’s eyes widen. “Bronx!”

The Skye that... what?

“What?” Bronx says all innocence again. “Cassie said—”

“Snacks,” Boston cuts in, pointing. “Go ask Jess when snack time starts.”

“But—” Bronx starts to protest, but Boston stops him with a look usually reserved by parents for their disobedient children.