49. Chapter 49 #2
“I didn’t… At first I wasn’t going to do it, Jake,” I say. “It… I knew it was wrong, okay? But then, I got a call from Cassie that night. She told me she and Bronx were getting moved again and… she begged me to come get them.” My voice cracks.
“But I was homeless, man. I had nothing. No place to take them. No way to help.”
His silence is deafening.
“Those five-hundred dollars… that’s a shit ton of money for me, Jake. I just…” I shrug. “Sucked it up and… Fuck, I hated myself for it. The next morning, I decided I’d just go back to where you found me.”
My gaze flicks to Archer. He’s fully alert, hands still in his pockets but clearly listening.
And smirking.
Jake clambers off me.
I sit up, dizzy from his repeated blows, and plant a hand in the snow to brace myself.
“But you didn’t leave,” Jake says, taking a few steps back.
“No,” I say, pushing to my feet slowly. “Your mom… she offered me a thousand dollars a week to be at her beck and call. That kind of money—I didn’t think it through. I needed it to get a place, pay for a lawyer. So—”
“So you did it,” Jake finishes for me, nodding.
I wipe my mouth, wincing at the sting. “Yeah, I did it.”
Jake’s voice hardens again. “When was the last time you had sex with my mom?”
I meet his gaze, shame washing through me. “Yesterday.”
He tenses, every muscle in his jaw twitching.
I fully expect him to pounce again, but the blow doesn’t come.
“I tried to end it,” I say. “Back in August, when I got my apartment. I thought it’d be over, but—”
His voice softens the tiniest bit. “But what?”
I shrug again. “She wouldn’t have it. She said no judge would give me custody if they knew I was trading sex for money. She obviously has pictures, so…”
Jake’s gaze drops to his pocket where I assume his phone is.
“I needed to get Cassie and Bronx out of foster care,” I whisper. “I did it for them.”
“How often? How often do you and her…” Jake asks.
I swallow. “Couple times a week. Sometimes more. Just, whenever she wants.”
Archer bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over.
“This is too fucking good,” he snorts, stepping forward. “You fucking Jake’s mom for money. You’re just a fucking hooker.” His grin only widens. “Shit, I can’t wait to tell Skye.”
His words—the mention of Skye—slice into me.
Then Archer goes straight for the jugular. “Does your mom know you’re following in her footsteps? Hooker mom, hooker son.”
I spit blood, then lock eyes with him. “Yeah. Guess I’m a good one, too because your mom’s a repeat customer. She purrs like a cat when she comes.”
Archer flinches.
His face twists.
Then he charges.
I don’t even get a second to brace.
He tackles me, fists swinging.
I slam backwards into the snow-covered ground, Archer on top of me, punching me again and again.
Relentless.
Brutal.
He’s completely unhinged.
Jake tries to pull him off once. Twice. A third time.
Another yank and Archer stumbles back, panting, blood on his knuckles.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he howls at me, eyes feral, breath coming fast. “You don’t get to—”
He trails off, eyes darting over me, his fists clenching and unclenching like he’s deciding whether to have another go.
“You think I’m a fucking idiot?” he spits, nostrils flaring. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at her?”
This makes no sense.
I can’t recall ever meeting his mother when Archer was around. Fuck, I didn’t even know who I was dealing with during girls’ night until Skye randomly said something.
But then it clicks.
Archer isn’t talking about his mother.
This is about Skye.
His voice cracks, just for a second, before hardening again. “The way you were always around last summer. Always fucking there.”
My jaw tightens, but I stay quiet. Stay down.
A humorless laugh rips out of him. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Jake frowns. “Archer—”
“She’s mine,” Archer shouts, something sharp and dangerous breaking loose in his voice. “You don’t get to touch what’s mine.”
His hand drags through his hair as he paces—like he’s trying to burn it out of his system.
But he can’t.
“Did you fuck her?” he asks, voice so tight it might snap. “Did you… did Skye let you fuck her?”
I know better than to respond.
But my body betrays me anyway. Because for one stupid, reckless second, all I can see is Skye beneath me—ocean eyes, auburn hair, freckled skin. The sound of my name breaking from her lips. The way she looked at me and told me she loved me.
Whatever flickers in my eyes, Archer sees it, the color draining from his face.
“No,” he breathes, like he was counting on my denial. “No.”
Jake reaches for his shoulder. “Arch, come on—”
Archer’s expression crumples. “You did.”
He takes one stumbling step toward me, rage boiling beneath every word. “You fucked her.”
That’s all it takes.
He reaches into his jacket.
A flash of shiny black.
“No!” Jake yells.
A single gunshot cracks through the night.
And everything fractures.
The sound echoes off the apartment buildings before silence crashes down around us.
The world feels frozen.
No shouting. No movement.
Just the ringing in my ears and the stunned realization that something irreversible has happened.
I look down and notice the blood.
I frown.
Huh.
I must be hurt.
But somehow I don’t feel a damn thing.
Jake stares.
Archer does, too, wide-eyed. Uncomprehending. “Shit. What—” he chokes out.
A beat.
Then he drops the gun and bolts. His tires screech as he peels out of the parking lot, speeding away into the night.
Jake drops to his knees next to me.
Frantic.
Patting my chest.
Fumbling for his phone.
I’m looking up at the clear, star-strewn night sky, my back cushioned by the snow.
Weirdly, it doesn’t feel so cold anymore.
But it’s hard to breathe. Like my lungs are… wrong. Broken somehow.
“Fuck, fuck,” Jake gasps. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Is he talking to me? To himself? I can’t tell.
His phone slips from his hand into the snow.
He retrieves it with trembling fingers.
“I’m gonna call 911,” he says, furiously wiping the blood—my blood?—off his phone. He’s only making it worse.
I inhale a rattling breath. “I need you to call Skye first.” My voice sounds strange in my ears. Weak. Thin.
I try to take another breath.
Fuck. Big mistake.
A sharp pain shoots through my chest into my shoulder and down my arm.
I groan.
Okay.
There it is.
And fuck, I’m tired.
Jake’s hands are shaking. “No, you need to get to the hospital.”
I squeeze my eyes shut with the pain building like a wave. It’s like someone’s trying to tear my arm right out of its socket.
“Jake,” I groan. “I need you to call Skye. Tell her to stay with Cassie and Bronx tonight. Please,” I choke out. “Don’t let them take them. I’ll never get them back.”
I wasn’t cold two seconds ago, but suddenly I feel like I’m submerged in ice water. My teeth are chattering.
I force myself to look at him.
He hesitates. “Okay,” he finally relents, then dials what I presume to be Skye’s number.
I wish I could hear her voice.
Feel her warmth.
Kiss her.
Tell her I love her.
“I’m sorry, man,” I whisper, barely audible. “I’m really, really sorry. For everything.”