44. Chapter 44
forty-four
Skye
Nothing.
All day, it’s radio silence from Boston.
At first, I tell myself it’s because he’s at court, sitting through his mom’s hearing this morning. But the hours tick by, one after another, and the knot in my stomach tightens.
Normally, I wouldn’t think much of it. Except I know Ms. Rawlings’ proceeding shouldn’t take that long.
Not with what Archer’s dad promised me.
I spend my day at my mom’s office, trying to keep busy. Answering emails, sitting in on meetings, and organizing paperwork that doesn’t actually need organizing.
Anything to keep from staring at my phone.
Around lunchtime, Archer stops by unexpectedly, a giant smile spreading across his face when he sees me. I almost feel bad for how distracted I am while we sit at the small café down the street, eating overpriced sandwiches and making small talk.
Almost, but not quite.
Not with the memory of Archer’s hands around my throat still burned into my head. To his credit, he’s really been trying these past few weeks. Tempering the explosive reactions to things I say or do that displease him.
Maybe, once upon a time, it would’ve been enough. Maybe I would’ve believed this is what love should feel like. I did believe that.
But that was before I knew what real care looked like.
And now I can’t get back there. Can’t return to the version of myself that existed before New York. Before Archer wrapped his hands around my neck.
Before Boston stepped back into my life.
And I don’t want to.
That version of me shattered.
Good riddance.
I leave the office at five, but instead of heading home, I do a drive-by at AJ’s. The moment I spot Boston’s car, my heart plummets into my stomach.
So he’s not tied up at court anymore. He just hasn’t called. Or texted. Or reached out to me.
On purpose.
Maybe that means he truly does understand now? Understands why I said what I did yesterday. Why I walked away from him after he gave me something no one’s ever given me.
But there’s still so much he needs to hear. Why things have to be this way.
At least for now.
I don’t bother him at work, though. Instead, I do the obvious—maybe slightly unhinged, stalker thing—and camp out in front of his apartment.
It’s just past ten-thirty and I’m sitting, crossed-legged in front of Boston’s door, back resting against it, when the glow of headlights illuminates the dark. Moments later, an engine shuts off. A car door slams shut.
I look up, watching Boston approach with tentative steps.
He comes to a stop several feet away, keys dangling from his index finger, an unreadable expression settling over his beautiful face.
“Hi,” I say, raising my hand like a doofus.
His eyebrows draw together. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“How long?”
“Not long. Only about five hours,” I say nonchalantly, pushing to my feet and patting imaginary dirt from the back of my jeans.
“Five hours?”
I shrug. “I mean, I wasn’t sitting in front of your door the whole time. I spent a lot of it sitting in my car listening to my audiobook,” I say like that makes it any less weird.
“Okay,” he says slowly, taking a hesitant step forward. “Well… since you waited so patiently, do you want to come in?”
“If you don’t mind,” I say, suddenly feeling stupidly shy despite the fact that just yesterday, Boston kissed me until I forgot my own name and held my heart in his hands without dropping it. “I really need to talk to you.”
He just hums in response.
I step aside, giving him room to unlock the door. He reaches inside first to turn on the lights, then stands back and waits for me to enter before following me inside. Gentleman.
The door clicks shut behind him.
And just like that, the wall of tension between us slams into me all over again.
We stand awkwardly, and I don’t quite know where to begin. I look up into his eyes. They’re not soft this time. They’re steely. Searching and unreadable.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says quietly. The words twist like a knife in my gut. “We’re—”
I throw my arms around his neck and crash my lips against his, silencing him. He thinks he knows, but he has no idea. Not really.
For a moment he’s frozen, body tense, arms slack by his sides.
But I don’t let go, don’t stop kissing him.
And then he melts against me, muscles relaxing as his hands move to my waist and tug me closer against him.
He kisses me back. Actually kisses me back, fervently. Lips soft, tongue massaging, devouring.
A small moan escapes me with the moist heat immediately pooling in my core. But the sound brings him to his senses.
His mouth retreats first, then his hands as he takes a step back, creating distance.
“Skye,” he says, low. “What the hell is going on? What are we doing?”
It’s not the first time he’s asked, but tonight it sounds more like a plea than a question.
I swallow hard, trying to find the words. Trying to make sense of something that never really made sense to begin with.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Boss. For yesterday. For this morning. For everything.”
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Just waits. Watching me with those gray eyes.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I say, exhaling a shaky breath. “I realized something a while ago. About the world I’ve been living in. The power that surrounds me. It’s like doors are just open for me.”
I laugh once, bitterly.
“I never even noticed it before because it’s always been there. The connection. The influence. All of it. It didn’t hit me until recently. How much that power could do. How much it could change things.”
Boston frowns but doesn’t speak.
“That night when you introduced yourself to Mr. Longfellow at Jake’s, he realized who you were. He asked about you on the drive back to Archer’s. And that’s when the idea took root. That maybe I could use some of that power to help you somehow. Help your family—”
Boston shakes his head vehemently. “No, Skye, you’ve already done too much for me. This apartment—”
“No,” I cut him off, stepping closer again. “Don’t say that. Don’t make this something transactional.”
My voice cracks. My heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my throat.
“I didn’t do it because you needed me to. I did it because I needed me to. Because it’s you, Boss. It always has been.”
His throat works around a swallow.
Silence.
“What you said yesterday, about wanting to be with me before you even understood what that meant…” My voice wobbles. “I feel the same way. I’ve always felt it. Even when I didn’t realize it. Even when I was too young or too stupid or too scared to understand it, it was there.”
The tears come before I can stop them. Hot and fast.
“It’s always been you.” I choke back a sob.
“When you disappeared… I missed you every single day. Every hour. Every breath. There was this hole in me. This constant emptiness I didn’t know how to fill.
Not truly. For a long time I tried to convince myself that I felt that way because you were my friend.
Because we had known each other since we were little.
But deep down, I knew it was more than that. ”
I blink through the blur of tears. “And then you were back. That night at AJ’s… god, Boss.” I take a steadying breath. “My heart just… lurched. Like it knew. Like it remembered something. It remembered you.”
I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, but the tears keep coming.
“And I tried to suppress it because, you know, Archer and just all the expectations, but… These past two months—they’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been. Even with all the chaos being near you, talking to you… it’s the only thing that’s felt real.”
He still doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft, filled with emotion.
“I needed to help you, Boss. I can’t stand seeing you hurt. It’s like I’m hurting right alongside you. So I talked to Mr. Longfellow, asked him to help your mom. To dismiss the prostitution charge and give her a chance at rehab instead of prison.”
His brows pull tight.
“And he agreed,” I choke out.
“But not out of the goodness of his heart,” Boston finally says, his voice a tight growl.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t like that I’m connected to you.
That I associate with you. I don’t think he suspects you and I…
” I don’t finish the sentence. “But he doesn’t have to.
To Mr. Longfellow, reputation is everything.
He’s got this image in Stillwater—and beyond, actually.
He has political aspirations and he said my friendship with you is a stain.
He talked about my future with Archer, that there’s an image to uphold. ”
Boston nods, though I don’t get the impression it’s out of agreement with anything Archer’s dad said.
“So he told you he’d help my mom so long as you stay away from me, right?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“He told me the same thing today. After my mom’s hearing, after he agreed to send her to a program. He basically threatened to derail my mom’s diversion if I didn’t stay away from his family, which I guess includes you.”
I should be surprised, but I’m not. Not really. When I first broached the topic with Mr. Longfellow, I thought I was playing chess. But I realized immediately that I was no match for him.
I square my shoulders. “The only way he was going to give your mom a chance was if I agreed to stay with Archer and away from you.”
He studies me, eyes narrowed. “If you agreed to stay with Archer? Did you… were you contemplating leaving him?”
My heart squeezes at the note of hopefulness in his voice.
I don’t speak. Just look at him. Obviously, I’ve thought about leaving Archer.
More than once over the past couple of months.
Especially after that night in New York.
I haven’t told Boston about it. I haven’t told anyone. And I’m not going to.
He searches my face for another beat before wincing and turning away. His hand rakes through his hair. “Fuck, Skye. You sold yourself to buy my family mercy.”