Page 31 of A Million To Fall

“Okay, so they didn’t move,” Jake mutters, pacing.

“Or they moved and just came back to visit,” Lily offers.

I shake my head before I can stop myself. “Boss wouldn’t just go no-contact with us.”

Jake sighs, pulling out his phone as my fingers instinctively fumble for mine.

We fall silent while he walks slow circles around us. But only a minute later, Jake shoves his phone back into his pocket like it personally offended him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Why won’t he answer? I don’t get it. None of this makes any fucking sense.”

He drops into a chair, his face buried in his hands.

Jonathan leans over and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sure there’s a good reason. Something with his mom, maybe. You know how private he is.”

“But you just said you saw Boss’s mom with a guy you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with,” I say. “What if something happened to Boss? Remember what he looked like the last time we saw him?”

I do. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.

“Yeah, but—”

“Fuck,” Jake snaps. “Why are Skye and I the only ones worried about him?”

Archer shoves up from his chair. It scrapes loudly against the concrete.

“Jake, I’m gonna tell you this one last time: let it go. I want to enjoy this party and I’m not talking about Boston anymore.” He glances around. “Anyone want another drink?”

When no one answers, Archer marches back inside.

Lily clears her throat. “For what it’s worth, I think Arch might be right. We’ve done what we can.”

No one argues, silence settling between us heavy and unfinished.

I only last ten seconds before I get up and follow Archer inside.

I find him in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone. He looks up and smiles when he sees me.

“Hey,” I say. “You okay?”

“Just annoyed,” he says. “I don’t get the obsession with this whole Boston thing. It’s been like four months.”

“Yeah,” I say carefully. “But it’s weird how Boss just vanished, don’t you think?”

Archer shrugs. “I don’t think about it much. People move. Families have stuff going on.”

I sigh. “I don’t know.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “Why are you still thinking about him?”

“I’m not. I mean—just sometimes. Because it’s weird. That’s all.”

“You sure that’s all?” he asks. “You don’t have a thing for him or something?”

His blue eyes are locked on mine, like he’s trying to penetrate my skull and catch me in a lie.

“What? No. Of course not.”

Why’s my throat so dry?