17. Chapter 17 #2
He squeezes my hand. “I love you, Skye. You’re mine. Forever. If finishing your degree means that much, fine. But I’m telling you, you won’t need it.”
I only nod.
“What’s happening?” Archer calls out the moment we step through the door of Jake’s home.
Everyone greets us like we haven’t seen each other in years, even though it’s only been three months. Lily practically launches herself at me, squeezing me tightly.
Everyone looks great. Relaxed and happy. Such is the magic of summer break.
“I’m starving,” Pacey announces. “I’m thinking AJ’s. I need a big fucking burger.”
“Works for me,” Jonathan says, already slipping into his sneakers.
Like me, Jonathan goes to school out of state.
Jake stayed in Minnesota, attending a private university in St. Paul.
He turns to Archer. “Hey, what’s the status on Boston’s mom?”
I pause, my whole body reacting to that name. I haven’t heard it in forever. I feel suddenly off balance.
“What’s going on with Boston’s mom?” I ask, willing my voice to stay perfectly on-pitch.
Archer ignores me, responding to Jake instead. “I don’t know much other than she didn’t show for some court hearing, so they picked her up again,” he says casually. “All I could get from my dad was that they’re looking at possession and now prostitution.”
“What?” I stare at him. This is the first I’m hearing of any of this.
“She’s still locked up?” Jake asks.
Archer nods once. “Far as I know.”
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” I ask again, louder this time.
Jake turns to me, that same worn look in his eyes—the one he gets whenever Boston comes up. “She got arrested in March during a drug raid. It was all over local news for a while.”
“Oh my god.” I look at Archer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t think you needed to know.”
“Why not? Boston’s my friend, too,” I snap.
Archer scowls. “This has nothing to do with Boston. Or you. You don’t need to know everything.”
I want to scream—tell him he doesn’t get to decide what I’m entitled to know, that he doesn’t get to edit me out of my own damn life. But I don’t. I’m not about to make a scene with everyone watching.
I focus on Jake. “Is there any word on Boss?”
Jake swallows. “No. I don’t think anyone’s even looking for him. Except maybe me.”
Archer huffs. “I bet Boston bailed when he caught wind of what his mom was up to.”
Jake stiffens, but Archer doesn’t seem to notice. “If my mom was strung out and catching charges, I’d disappear, too. Wouldn’t want to be dragged down with her, you know?”
“No way,” Jake snaps. “Boss would never leave his family, no matter what kind of trouble his mom was in.”
Archer shrugs. “I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. Some people just don’t stick around when shit gets ugly.”
Jake opens his mouth, but Jonathan cuts him off. “Point is, we have no clue where he is.”
The tension in the room eases, just a little. I’ve always admired how Jake, Jonathan, and Pacey never seem intimidated by Archer.
“Can’t your dad ask Mrs. Rawlings?” I ask Archer, pushing past that knot in my stomach.
He shakes his head. “She has counsel. He’s not allowed to talk to her. And Boston’s not part of the criminal investigation. He’s just not on anyone’s radar.”
Jake slumps against the wall, shoulders sagging. “God, I just wish I could find him. Know he’s okay.”
“Yeah, man, we all wish that,” Pacey says, patting Jake’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get food. Forget about Boss for a bit.”
Forget about him. Right.
It’s chaos when we walk into AJ’s—families tucked into booths, teenagers crowded around tables, a jukebox rattling off some 90s tune, the scent of fries and onion rings hanging in the air.
It’s loud and alive. AJ’s has always been a Stillwater favorite, probably because it serves the best shakes and burgers around.
Luckily, we don’t have to wait long before the hostess leads us to a table large enough to accommodate our group.
“You need to try the portobello mushroom burger,” Archer tells me before I get so much as a chance to glance at the menu.
I wrinkle my nose. “But I don’t even like mushrooms, baby.” The texture alone makes me gag.
“Don’t be such a toddler, Skye. Just try.”
Across the table, Jonathan chuckles. “Let her eat what the fuck she wants to eat, Arch.”
Archer just chuckles, draping an arm over my shoulders.
That’s when I notice Jake—frozen, unblinking, lips parted like something just forced the air out of his lungs.
His menu slips from his fingers, hitting the table with a soft thud. He’s staring across the room, his face pale and disbelieving.
“Jake?” I say softly, brows pinching.
He doesn’t respond.
“Dude?” Pacey leans in. “What’s wrong?”
“Holy fucking shit,” Jake whispers. He slowly raises a hand and points.
I’m already turning. “What is it?”
Jake swallows, eyes wide. “Boston.”
My heart stutters. My stomach knots. The world tilts, sound and color draining.
And then I see him.
Boston.
In the flesh.
And very much alive.
He’s standing next to a table, setting down a tray of food like it’s just another Wednesday night.
His hair is just as dark as I remember—not as tightly cropped on the sides as it used to be, but otherwise the same. Everything else about him… isn’t.
His shirt pulls tight across broad shoulders I don’t remember, stretching over the dips and swells of a muscular torso. His forearms flex as he moves, veins standing out under his skin.
I don’t just see Boston. I feel him.
His jaw is sharper, more defined, like time carved him from marble. And was he always this tall?
Jake’s already up and weaving between tables. “Boss?”
Boston turns, shock flashing across his face before it morphs into disbelief, then something softer, more fragile.
He sets the last plate down and meets Jake halfway.
They just stand there for a moment, face-to-face, while we watch, my breath caught somewhere in my chest. Then Jake pulls Boston into a tight hug.
Jake says something I can’t hear, then gestures for Boston to follow him back to our table. Instinctively, I sit up straighter, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
Not sure if it’s my movements or the way I’m staring, but Boston’s eyes move to mine. And hold.
It’s like a lightning strike.
He blinks, brow dipping for just a second, like he’s just as thrown by seeing me as I am by him.
His gray eyes move over me, inquisitive, watchful. Exactly how I remember. Except now, there’s weight behind them. Shadows. Experience.
Beside me, Archer shifts. His hand slides to my thigh, fingers pressing just enough to remind me he’s there.
Boston stops at the table. “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s up, guys?”
God. His voice.
It’s deeper now. Rougher.
My gaze drops to his mouth for a moment, then his chest, the vein running along his bicep.
“What’s up, guys?” Jonathan echoes, incredulous. He stands and pulls Boston into a hug. “More like where the fuck have you been, man?”
Boston hugs him back. “Here and there.”
“Fuck, Boss,” Jake croaks, his hands on his hips like he’s trying not to lose it. “You just disappeared.”
Boston looks down, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t really explain. I just needed to get away.”
“When did you come back?” I ask, trying to hide the wobble in my voice.
Boston looks at me, and I feel that jolt all over again. It’s like live-wire electricity firing through my body.
“End of March.” It feels like he’s only talking to me, and stupidly, my heart warms at the idea.
Jake shakes his head. “I tried to find you. I called. I texted…”
“I’m sorry, Jake,” Boston repeats. “It’s… I’m sorry.”
Pacey hugs him next. “Are you back for good?”
Boston nods. “Back in Stillwater.”
“No college for you?” Archer asks, still seated next to me, except that he suddenly seems to take up more space.
Boston’s gaze turns to Archer. “No.”
I watch him—his expression, the way he holds himself.
Something’s different.
Next to the other guys in their brand clothes and expensive sneakers, Boston looks… honed. Like he’s survived things we’d never understand.
And compared to Archer, who still carries a trace of boyish softness, Boston is solid. It makes something deep inside me ache.
Heat rushes up my neck, pooling in my cheeks. I know Archer sees it because his arm tightens around my shoulders, his fingers squeezing, jaw grinding as he stares Boston down.
I suck in a breath, school my features, and lean ever so slightly against Archer, trying to reassure him.
Jake rubs a hand along his jaw. “We need to catch up, man.”
Boston nods. “I’d like that. I’m working right now, but—”
“When do you get off?” Jake asks.
“Ten.”
Jake pulls out his phone. “Okay. What’s your number?”
Boston rattles it off.
“Alright, I just sent you a text so you have my number… again,” Jake says, his voice thick.
“I never forgot your number,” Boston says quietly.
My heart squeezes at the sadness in his eyes.
Archer scoffs, his arm like a bag of cement on my shoulders. “Could’ve called your so-called best friend.”
Boston doesn’t take the bait. “I gotta get back to work.” He looks around the table, then right at me again. A second too long, yet not long enough.
“It’s good to see you,” he says.
And then he’s gone. Back into the noise. To work.
But I don’t stop watching him.