Page 54 of A Million To Fall

“What?” Cassie yells back.

Boston points at Bronx and the other kids, all of whom have discarded their trash bags—uh, potato sacks—and are lining up again with… their legs tied together?

“Come race!”

“You’re bossy,” she shouts, but skips toward him anyway.

I hear him laugh, and the warmth spreading through my insides, though unexpected, isn’t unwelcome.

“You, too, Skye,” he says, grinning, his eyes pinned to me.

“What? No. I’m cleaning,” I say, pointing at the table.

“Aww, come on, Skye!” Cassie yells over her shoulder. Her plea is echoed by Bronx and the dozen other kids already standing at the starting line.

“Wow, peer pressure much?” I mutter and drop my trash bag, then reluctantly make my way over.

The kids are all talking over each other, arguing over who’s going to be tied to whom, and how tightly the string should be tied. Then Boston blows his whistle and, would you look at that, like a tiny, chaotic military unit, every kid snaps back into formation.

It’s impressive. Mildly terrifying. And also kind of hot.

Boston goes about pairing off kids. It’s clearly strategic, clearly trying to keep one team from steamrolling the others. Then he ties them together with—what is that, kitchen twine?

“Alright, Bronx, you’re with me,” Boston finally announces. “Cass, let’s get you tied to Skye.”

“No fair!” Bronx cries. “Skye’s tall,” he adds lamely.

Boston blinks at him. “Skye’s like five feet tall, dude. And what am I, a garden gnome?”

Far from. Boston’s probably three inches taller than Archer, who’s 6’1”.

“I promise, Bronx, you have nothing to worry about,” I assuage him. “Unless I’m on horseback, I suck at sports.”

“See, we’re going to kick their butts,” Boston says.

Now it’s Cassie’s turn to protest. “Hey!”

Boston laughs again. Really laughs, and the sound finds its way directly into my heart. He was always on the quieter side while we were growing up. Especially once his dad died. Observant, responsible. And as far as I can tell, that hasn’t changed. He’s still serious, protective, and hard working. And seeing him laugh like this, his eyes bright, face alive, is a thing of beauty. It makes me want to find ways to bring that side out of him more often.

He starts to crouch down in front of Cassie and me, like he’s about to tie our legs together himself, but then seems to reconsider. He holds the piece of string out to me sheepishly. “Why don’t you tie this around your and Cassie’s legs.”

“Yes, sir.” I salute him, earning me a grin, before he binds himself to Bronx. His fingers move quickly as he ties the knot.

A minute later everyone’s lined up shoulder-to-shoulder. Cassie and I wobble a little as we test our tied legs.

“This already feels unsafe,” I mutter.

Cassie beams up at me. “We’re gonna win.”

“Your confidence is inspiring, considering I have the athletic ability of an overcooked noodle.”

Across from us, Boston adjusts the knot around his and Bronx’s legs one last time before straightening to his full height.

Bronx points at us dramatically. “We’re crushing you guys.”

“You’re literally nine,” I deadpan.

“I’m eight.”