Page 18 of A Million To Fall

Archer

Woke up and immediately thought of you. You looked so beautiful last night. I’m so damn lucky to call you mine.

Mine.

I’m his.

Warmth spread through my chest, slow and syrupy. No one’s ever wanted me like this before.

My parents approve. How could they not because when Sunday came, so did a massive bouquet. Fifty pink roses delivered directly to my front door.

At first, I thought they were for my mom. Maybe from my dad, or someone she’d helped through her non-profit. But she just smiled and handed me the little card.

Always and forever trying to give you things that are as beautiful as you. Always and forever failing because nothing even comes close. –Love, Archer.

Yeah. Giddy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

We spent all weekend together—brunch at the country club with his parents, getting a crash course in golf, watching movies and hanging out at his place.

By Sunday night, I, too, had changed my status.

“So, Archer’s parents invited my family to dinner at their house this weekend,” I tell Lily when I meet her at school this morning.

She gasps. “Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Holy… that’s, like, a big deal!” she says. “It’s like, your parents are meeting the in-laws.”

I breathe a laugh. “Not you calling me Mrs. Archer Longfellow again.”

“I mean, this is obviously serious.”

We enter the building, the warmth immediately caressing my cheeks.

“We’re high school seniors!” I say like that somehow means that Archer’s and my relationship hasn’t progressed… fast.

She shrugs. “So? My parents got married right out of high school.”

“Still,” I mutter, following her down the corridor to our lockers.

“Skye, do you think Orson Longfellow—the District Attorney—would invite your entire dang family to dinner at their place if he didn’t get the impression you and his son had, like, long-term potential?”

I blink. “I don’t know, I—”

She pulls me to a stop.

“What?” I follow her gaze.

Boston. Of course.

I almost roll my eyes, expecting her usual lovesick expression, but Lily doesn’t look dreamy.

She looks horrified.

Boston’s by his locker, and—my heart stops—his left eye is swollen, a bruise blooming across his cheekbone, temple discolored.

I move instinctively, Lily on my heels. “Boss,” I say, breathless. “Are you okay?”