Page 61 of A Million To Fall

I raise my eyebrows, waiting as he opens the passenger door for me.

“You. Me. NYC,” he says, grin widening. “Oh look, it rhymes.”

“What?” I ask, caught off guard.

Archer walks around the car, then climbs into the driver’s seat. “My parents are visiting Wilder the weekend after the hunting trip. My mom and my sister-in-law want to see some Broadway play,” he says, bored. “They told me to ask if you’d want to tag along. And since you’re not going without me, I thought we’d spend the weekend in the city. Have some fun, you know?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Okay,” I repeat.

Satisfied, he starts the car but unlocks his phone first. “I’m texting the guys,” he says. “We’ll meet them for dinner.”

“Who’s coming?”

“The usual. Jake might bring that girl he met bowling.”

I hesitate, fidgeting with my seatbelt. “Is Boston coming?”

Archer doesn’t even look up. “No. Why would he?”

Because I want him to.

I stare out the windshield, nibbling on my bottom lip. “Because he’s our friend?”

Archer snorts. “Not mine. I don’t even know why everyone else still wants to hang out with him. He was gone for a long damn time.”

“Why would that change anything?” I ask, keeping my tone soft. “We all went to different colleges yet we still hang out.”

Boston being back still feels like a dream, and even though I was initially skeptical of working for my mom this summer—and the Riverfront Sports Complex assignment in particular—working alongside Boston twice a week has become one of my favorite parts of summer. He’s always so calm. So interested in what I have to say. So attentive and present for the kids, even when the exhaustion is all but written on his face. And the way he loves his little brother and sister—and how fiercely they love him back—is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed before.

Archer glances at me, eyes narrowing. “Skye, people like him will only drag you down. My dad wouldn’t like us associating with someone like Boston, especially given the shit his mom’s involved in.”

A familiar pressure creeps in under my ribs. “Boston’s not his mom. And we don’t know the full story.”

I immediately regret my comment. Archer’s face contorts, that vein pulsing in his forehead. “Skye, his mom was arrested in a drug raid. My dad said Boston’s siblings were there. They had to sit at the police station in the middle of the night while their mom was getting locked up,” he thunders. “And then she got busted again when she tried to blow an undercover cop.”

I flinch. “I didn’t know all that.” I really didn’t.

But it still doesn’t change the fact that Boston wasn’t involved.

“I hate that you’re spending all this time around him now.” He reaches for my hand, all sweetness again. “But I know it’s because your mom makes you do it. Right?”

I hesitate just long enough to hate myself for it.

“Arch…” I lace my fingers through his. “You know I love being with you.”

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it.

But I don’t miss the tick in his jaw right before.

It’s close to ten-thirty, by the time we’re all soaking in the hot tub in Jake’s backyard. The sky above us is dark and scattered with stars, and laughter drifts through the steam.

Dinner was lovely.

Jake even brought the girl he “chatted up” at the bowling alley. Cameron. She’s tall, blonde, and clearly smitten. She barely touched her gnocchi, too busy giggling at everything Jake said. Even the not-so-funny bits. Jake was gracious as always, but Lily and I agree: Cameron won’t be around for long.

“There’s a charcuterie board in the kitchen for you all to enjoy,” Jake’s mom says, stepping outside, a glass filled with something bubbly in her hand.

She’s barefoot in a pale silk robe. The fabric clings to her curves as she moves, the neckline shifting with each step, toeing the line of risqué. Her makeup’s flawless—even at this time of day—hair pinned into an effortless chignon.