Page 100 of A Million To Fall

“Six,” she says, like the memory is carved into her bones. “Eddie said it was because Boston didn’t want to be with us anymore, but I know that wasn’t true.” Her little chin lifts, full of conviction.

“Who’s Eddie?”

“My mommy’s friend.” Her voice lowers. “He hurt Boss.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

Cassie nods. “He hit him really bad. Boston slept for a long time after that.” She pauses, looking down at the chalk drawings as my stomach bottoms out.

“He slept for a long time?”

She nods. “Like a whole night and day. And then later, when Boss left, Eddie made us move to another place. I was so scared that Boss wouldn’t find us.”

Her words lodge deep in my chest.

“I don’t like Eddie,” she adds after a beat, her voice small.

I don’t blame her. I’ve only heard two things about the guy and already want to scream.

“Where’s Eddie now?” I ask cautiously.

Cassie shrugs. “He had to go with the police the night they all came to our house and took my mom. And a lot of Eddie’s friends, too.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat, bracing myself for the answer to my next question. “Has Eddie… has he ever hurt you or Bronx?”

Cassie shakes her head. “No. But he hurts my mommy.” Anger reddens her little face. “That’s why he hurt Boss. Because Boss came to stop him from hurting my mommy, so Eddie hurt Boss instead. I don’t like Eddie,” she repeats.

Tears burn hotly at the back of my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Cassie,” I say. “But you have such a good big brother. He loves you and Bronx so much.”

“I know. And he goes and visits my mom every Sunday. He always gives us messages from her and her messages from us.”

“He visits her? On Sundays?”

She nods. “In jail. I wish she could come home, but Boss doesn’t know when she’ll be allowed to leave. He says the police say she did some really bad things and that it could be a long time before we can see her again.”

I don’t know what to say.

“I wish we could stay with Boss. I don’t want to be in foster care anymore.” Her words make my heart lurch so violently in my chest it’s as if it’s trying to find a way out of my body.

Bronx barrels out of the restroom and launches himself at the hopscotch squares, nearly shoving his sister aside. “Can we play soccer?”

“Absolutely not,” Boston calls, trailing a few feet behind, that beautiful, content smile still residing in his features. He’s looked so much lighter since we picked up Cassie and Bronx.

“Aww, why not?” Bronx whines.

“Because I prefer Skye conscious. Besides, it’s almost time to go,” Boston says and is met with dismayed groans. “You got five more minutes.”

I watch them play, trying to suffocate the burn in my chest.

All I've ever seen is Boston taking care of other people, sacrificing pieces of himself to make sure the people he loves are safe and sound.

But who takes care of Boston?

thirty-one

Boston

Five minutes ago, I was sure I’d donate my left kidney for a little peace and quiet. But the second I slide back into my car after dropping my siblings off with their newest fosters, I regret the mere thought.