Page 99 of A Million To Fall

“I dunno,” Bronx whispers.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry you had a rough night.”

There’s a pause. Then, even softer, Bronx says, “I want to live with you. And I miss Mommy.”

My heart cracks. I see the flash of pain in Boston’s face.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I’m working on it. I promise.” The words sound simple, but now that I know about the hurdles Boston’s facing, I hear the strain in his voice.

We spend an hour at a small neighborhood park. Boston helps Bronx cross the monkey bars, hoisting him up with easy strength while Bronx giggles. Cassie and I play some clumsy rounds of hopscotch drawn in sidewalk chalk, her sneakers thudding beside mine as she laughs every time I miss a square.

Boston calls over to me, “I’m gonna take Bronx to the bathroom. Mind keeping an eye on Cass for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” I say.

Cassie tugs at my hand as Boston walks off with Bronx. “I really like you,” she says out of nowhere.

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely touched. “I really like you, too.”

“You should be Boston’s girlfriend,” she declares. “Because he really, really likes you.”

“Oh, really?” I stammer. My heart has no business doing somersaults like this.

“Yep.”

“How… how do you know?”

She shrugs. “He told me. But I had to promise to never say anything, so… don’t tell him.”

I laugh despite myself. “Well, I already have a boyfriend.”

“The guy who picked you up after you got hit in the head the other day?”

I nod.

Cassie looks unimpressed. “I have two boyfriends. Ezekial and Bobby.”

That makes me laugh harder. “Oh yeah? And how do Ezekial and Bobby feel about that?”

“We all play together, so they don’t mind,” she says nonchalantly.

“Smart girl.”

She nods seriously. “How long have you had your boyfriend?”

“Umm… about two and a half years.”

Cassie’s eyes go wide. “Oh, wow. That’s like a really long time.”

“It is.”

“But Boston has liked you longer than that,” she says, her expression more solemn now.

“He… he has, huh?”

Cassie nods. “Since, like, forever.” She looks down at her sneakers, scuffing one against the pavement. “I wish he hadn’t left.”

I nod because, same sis. “How old were you when Boston left?”