Page 96 of A Million To Fall

“You’re putting water in eggs?” What is this sorcery?

“Yup. Add liquid, make more. Learned that quick.”

I watch him whisk.

“You didn’t know that?”

“No.”

“Huh… well, that probably means you had enough food growing up.”

“Yeah, I did,” I say, chest tight. “Did you go hungry a lot?”

“Sometimes,” he says without looking at me. “When I first became homeless. It was kind of a learning curve, you know? How to survive, I mean.”

“How long would you go without eating?”

He glances at me for a beat. “Three days was the longest,” he says in a way that gives me the distinct impression he’s not looking for pity, doesn’t want my sympathy, probably would prefer we change the subject. “But I figured it out fast. Food became the priority. I learned where to go. What to look for.”

“Three days?”

A knot forms in my throat. While I was stressing over prom dresses and college roommates, Boston was figuring out where his next meal was coming from.

He’s survived things I can’t even fathom, yet here he is showing up for people—for me—so selflessly.

Boston pours the eggs-and-water mixture into a pan. “It’s been a while since that happened. Mostly in the beginning. After that, I usually managed to eat. A night here and there maybe, but I promise, I’m okay.” He pats his stomach. “See? Solid.”

I laugh. He might as well be knocking on a steel plate. “If you’re trying to convince me you’ve got extra pounds, you’re failing. Your body is…” I trail off, catching my bottom lip between my teeth.

His gaze drops for just a fraction of a second, but I don’t miss it—the forced bob of his Adam’s apple.

“So, what are your plans for today?” he asks, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“I don’t really have any. How about you? Got exciting things planned on your day off?”

“Oh, uh, well, I gotta take care of some stuff this morning. And this afternoon, I’m picking up my siblings. I’ll probably take them to the park or—”

“Can I come?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“To the park?”

I nod.

It sure beats spending the day all by my lonesome. Thinking…

“You sure? It’s pretty boring.”

“Sounds lovely,” I say.

He stares at me for a moment. “Uhh, I mean, sure. I need to… I have some stuff I need to take care of this morning, but I can pick you up around noon.”

True to his word, Boston pulls up just before twelve. He’s in a fresh pair of light-washed jeans and a black t-shirt that, once again, fits him obscenely well—clinging to his chest and shoulders in a way that makes my mouth dry. Or maybe wet.

Whatever. I’m not proud of how long I stare.

We haven’t talked about… last night. About the moment when everything between us suddenly felt too big and too real to ignore.

Only, we ignored it anyway.