19. Chapter 19
nineteen
Skye
“Ican’t get over how hot Boss is,” Lily whisper-shouts at me just as the waiter finishes clearing our table.
It’s my first full day back in Stillwater, and despite his grand declarations of wishing to spend “every second of summer” with me, Archer has been spending his morning with the guys.
Suits me fine, though. Lily and I were overdue for a girls’ day. We started that nice and early, though not too early, with a leisurely brunch.
“I’ve noticed,” I say, eyebrows raised knowingly.
Boston has been her discussion topic of choice since we ran into him at AJ’s last night.
Even after we left the restaurant, the conversation kept circling back to our collective disbelief at his reappearance.
Jake, Pacey, and Jonathan kept shaking their heads, remarking on how incredulous it was that Boston was really back.
Lily, on the other hand, seems to have dusted off the crush she had on Boston in high school.
“Seriously,” she continues, walking behind me as we exit our brunch spot. “That body. That face. Makes me want to drop my panties.”
She fans herself dramatically. “If this isn’t a sign from the universe that I need to finally make my move on Boss, I don’t know what is.”
I push the button on my key fob to unlock my car. The alarm goes off instead.
“Shit,” I mutter, hitting the correct button, silencing the car horn.
Lily raises an eyebrow at me, then slides into the passenger seat. “You still down for a little shopping?”
“Sure,” I say as I buckle in. “Could be fun.”
“Could be necessary. My closet’s an actual crime scene.”
I laugh. “Oh my god, you’re so ridiculous.”
“Me? Never.”
We spend the next hour walking in and out of boutiques, Lily holding up sundresses like it’s a uniform requirement. She’s paying for yet another one—a little yellow, strapless thing—when my phone buzzes.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Skye”—she sounds rushed—“I have a quick favor to ask.”
“I’m all ears,” I say, navigating the light traffic.
“Jessica just texted me to let me know she forgot the snack boxes at the office. Could you swing by and grab them?”
I frown. “Snack boxes?”
“For the kids,” she says like that should spark something.
I blink at the car ahead of me. “Snack boxes for the kids. And they need to go… where?”
“Oh, right,” she says with a light laugh.
“Sorry, baby, I forget you can’t just read my mind.
Okay, so there are fifty snack boxes that need to be delivered, like, ASAP.
Baby, I’m about to step into a meeting with the contractor to sign off on the punch list for the apartments.
I’ll text you the address right now. Jessica will meet you there. ”
“But Mom, Lily and I were just—”
“Take Lily with you. You might as well check the place out since you’ll be taking over for Jessica next week. Gotta go, baby. Oh, and thank you!”
She ends the call.
Luckily NorthStar is a mere five-minute drive from here, and before long, Lily and I, along with fifty snack boxes, pull off the street and into a parking lot.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been here,” Lily muses, her gaze glued to the large signage above the glass double doors.
Riverfront Sports Complex.
“Me neither.” I pull into a spot close to the entrance. The cement is cracked, potholes patched with mismatching tar. Jessica is nowhere to be seen. “Looks like we’ll have to take these inside,” I say, nodding toward the back of the car.
We gather the snacks, each of us schlepping several bags stuffed with boxes, and make our way inside the building.
The floors transition from faded concrete to worn wood, banners tacked to the walls boasting championship titles won decades ago.
But despite its obvious age and the musky smell, the place is well maintained.
It’s clean yet has that lived-in, cozy quality of a place that’s seen generations of families come through.
There’s no one at the front counter, but the sound of a gaggle of children laughing and playing, sneakers squeaking, and basketballs pounding against gym flooring tells me we’ll encounter a different scene in the heart of the building.
I beckon Lily onward to another set of double doors, one of which is propped open.
“Oh gosh, Skye, yay!” Jessica calls, waddling toward us with an expression on her face that tells me she’s beyond ready to go on maternity leave.
“Hi, Jess, how are you?” Judging by her heavy breathing and the light sheen of sweat on her forehead, she’s pooped.
“Really good. Very pregnant, but really good,” she says unconvincingly, resting an arm atop her stomach. It’s protruding out so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if she could balance a cup of tea on it. Fascinating.
“Where would you like these?” I ask, nodding at the bags in my hands.
“Right over here.” She leads us to a set of plastic fold-up tables topped with two plastic coolers of water and several small cups with names scribbled in Sharpy. “Really, thank you so much for grabbing them. I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten. I’m so scatterbrained right now.”
“Probably just pregnancy brain,” Lily offers unhelpfully.
I begin unloading the bags. “So I take it you come here regularly?”
“Couple times a week,” Jessica nods. “NorthStar partners with the Harbor Project. So I’m here helping coordinate snacks and equipment and whatever else needs to be done. And I hear, starting next week, you’ll be the new me,” she adds, grinning widely.
“It appears so,” I say, looking around the gym space.
Kids—probably ranging in age from five to twelve—are running every which way, playing, laughing—maybe crying, I can’t tell through all the noise.
There are balls and jump ropes and hula hoops.
The adult-to-child ratio seems way off. Aside from Jessica, I see one other young woman sitting at a table with maybe six kids doing arts and crafts, while a man is playing a round of basketball with some kids by the hoop in the far corner.
“You’ll like it,” Jessica says. “It’s really rewarding to see these kiddos come out of their shell.
Some of them come from tough situations.
” she adds vaguely. Before I can inquire, Jessica excuses herself to go to the bathroom.
“This kid loves pretending my bladder’s a trampoline,” she tells me with a grin, just as my phone alerts me of a new text message.
Archer
What are you doing?
Me
Lily and I went to brunch, then a little shopping.
Archer
Doesn’t look like you’re shopping now. Where’d you guys go?
Me
My mom just asked me to drop off some snacks.
Archer
Where?
I’m about to reply when there’s a gentle tap on my arm.
“Excuse me.”
A little boy stands in front of me. His dark hair is messy, his cheeks flushed a vivid pink like he’d just sprinted three laps. He looks at me expectantly. Something about his eyes makes me blink. He can’t be older than maybe eight, but he looks… familiar.
“Yes?”
He points at the snack boxes Lily is now in the process of stacking into something akin to a pyramid. Clearly, she’s having fun with this. “Can I have one?”
“Oh, uh, I don’t know.” I look around for an adult in charge. “Do you normally have a snack time or is it, like, a free-for-all?”
The boy tilts his head, a small crease between his brows. “What’s a free-for-all?”
“It basically means you can just grab one whenever.”
His face explodes into delight. “Yeah, it’s a free-for-all.” He moves to grab a box.
Lily gasps a surprised “Oh my god,” just as I hear a male voice call, “Bronx!” The voice comes from across the gym, low and familiar enough to make every nerve in my body go still.
The little boy steps back quickly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, a look on his face like innocence personified. I glance toward the unexpected voice of authority and… oh.
Now I understand why the boy looked so familiar.
Boston’s little brother.
I've met him before. Plenty of times, back when he was really little. But it’s been years, and kids have a way of changing so quickly that they almost become different people.
Boston is walking toward us, a mesh bag of soccer balls slung over one shoulder, his eyes fixed on Bronx.
“Bronx,” he says again, softer this time, though there’s still warning in it. “You know it’s not snack time yet.”
Bronx’s shoulders climb toward his ears. “She said it was a free-for-all.”
“I said I didn’t know if it was a free-for-all,” I correct quickly.
Boston’s gaze flicks to me, recognition dawning in real time. Everything in his face changes. Not dramatically, but enough. His mouth parts, then closes again, and the strap of the ball bag shifts in his hand.
“Stormy,” he says quietly.
No one’s called me that in years. It’s one look, one word, yet my whole body responds like it remembers him better than my mind does. It’s so… inconvenient and totally unhelpful.
“Hey, Boss,” I say, too breathy, too quiet, too—
“Well, hello, sir!” Lily exclaims and throws herself into Boston’s arms.
“Hey, Lil.” He pats her back with his free hand.
Bronx looks between the three of us. “Do you know them?”
He doesn’t remember me.
Boston clears his throat. “Yeah. This is Lily,” he says before his gray eyes lock on mine. “And that’s Skye.”
Bronx’s mouth drops wide open. “Skye? The Skye that—”
Boston’s eyes widen. “Bronx!”
The Skye that... what?
“What?” Bronx says all innocence again. “Cassie said—”
“Snacks,” Boston cuts in, pointing. “Go ask Jess when snack time starts.”
“But—” Bronx starts to protest, but Boston stops him with a look usually reserved by parents for their disobedient children.
Bronx chuffs but trudges off to find Jessica.
Lily takes the opportunity to launch into flirt mode—arms crossed just under her chest, subtly pushing her breasts up and together. Cleavage on full display. Voice all syrup and shine. “Do you work here, too?” she asks unnecessarily.
Boston just nods. “What are you two up to?”
“Brunch and shopping,” Lily says. “That was, until Skye’s mom sent us on a stray errand to drop off these snacks.”
I just listen, watching Boston.
His shirt clings damply to his chest, a whistle hanging around his neck, his dark hair just as messy as Bronx’s. Now that I see them standing next to each other, their resemblance is uncanny. Bronx looks so much like Boston did when he was little, even though I know they’re only half-siblings.
Somewhere along the way, Boston stopped looking like a boy.
I’ve never been a fan of facial hair, especially not on Archer. Any attempt at a beard just makes him look like he’s trying too hard.
But Boston’s scruffy jaw? It works. All of it does. My breath catches before I can stop it, that warm flutter rushing back in.
I shouldn’t be reacting like this. But still…
“You know, we should really hang out soon.” Lily punctuates the statement with one of her signature shoulder shimmies, the kind clearly designed to draw attention to her bosom.
“Yeah, we should.” For a moment I think he’s speaking only to me. “Sunday evenings are best for me.”
Lily claps. “Alright, let’s get together!”
I open my mouth, but before I can ask a single question burning in my mind, the man who just two minutes ago was busy doing layups with a group of kids approaches Boston. “Hey man, you ready to run stations?”
Boston nods at him, then turns his attention back to Lily and me one last time. “We’ll figure out a day to get together,” he says. “I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
“Won’t be soon enough,” Lily says.
He nods, smiling, before his eyes move to mine and linger for the length of a breath. Then he turns and walks back into the chaos.
“Hey, Boss?” I call before I can talk myself out of it.
He looks back.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Should I make my move? I should make my move, right?” Lily rambles while we make our way across the parking lot back to my car. I’m busy responding to the three texts Archer fired off back-to-back.
Archer
Skye???
Archer
Skye! I asked where you are!
Archer
Fuck, I hate it when you ignore me.
I look up from my phone. “Huh?”
“On Boss,” Lily says. “I mean, it’s like fate brought him back into my life. And then I see him twice in two days? I’d be an idiot if I didn’t go for it with him, don’t you think?”
I blink. “Oh, uh…”
Lily’s my best friend. Archer’s my boyfriend. The only reasonable response is: hell yes, go for it, girly, you got this. Instead, I picture my nails dragging down her rosy cheek. My hand in her hair. Yanking.
It startles me.
The last time I felt something this dark was when I was sixteen. When she began to bring up Boston more and more. When she openly wondered what he looked like naked. I laughed it off, even encouraged her, though in reality, I never wanted her to want Boston.
“What are you doing?” Lily asks, her voice laced with annoyance.
“Texting Archer,” I mutter.
Me
Sorry Arch, my mom asked us to drop off snack boxes at the Riverfront Sports Complex. We just left. I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.
Lily rolls her eyes. “You’re always texting Archer.”
“He gets anxious,” I say quietly.
“His last message was like ten minutes ago,” she huffs.
I shrug. “To which I didn’t respond. He just likes knowing where I am, is all.”
“Yeah. All the time.” Lily shoots me a look.
“He loves me.”
“So it’s fine?”
“We’ve been together for a long time. He kind of has a right to know what I’m up to, don’t you think?”
Another message pops up, my phone warm in my hand.
Archer
You were at the rec center?
Me
Yes. And Lily and I ran into Boston and chatted for a minute. Getting back on the road now.
I feel Lily watching me, but she doesn’t push.
We get back in my car, then hit the road for some more sundress shopping.