Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
LUCAS
Mike gives me a small nod from the driver’s seat, and I wave back, offering a faint smile before the car pulls away, leaving me standing in front of my apartment complex.
And I stand there for a moment. I haven’t been here in almost two weeks.
After Tyler’s birthday, I’ve been staying at Alex’s penthouse.
He didn’t want me to leave. And honestly, I didn’t want to either.
Not because I don’t like my apartment or my little room, or even living with Tyler—I do.
I enjoy it. We’ve lived together for years, and we have built memories here; it’s familiar and comforting in its own way.
But something about staying with Alex feels… different. Unreal, almost.
Not because of the wealth. Not the penthouse or the good food or the expensive things he buys for me—none of that attracted me to him in the first place.
It’s him. The man I’ve come to care for.
The man I gave my body to.
The one who’s seen all of me, every part, every corner, every inch, He’s seen Everything except the part I can’t bring myself to say out loud, the part that broke me.
still, with him… I feel whole.
It’s new, a little bit overwhelming since it’s something I never thought could happen, but also so strangely easy.
Waking up next to him, tangled in those big arms of his, my cheek against his bare chest, surrounded by his warmth and his scent, the way he buries his face in my hair or the curve of my neck in the mornings, and just breathes me in.
When I asked him once why he does that, he said, “Your scent calms me.”
If only he knew…
How much I could recognize him by scent alone.
How, even in a dark room, I’d find him by it, how his presence feels like safety in a way I didn’t think I’d ever get to have.
It’s terrifying how much I’ve come to depend on that, on his presence, on him.
Letting out a breath, I step into the building and start the long climb up the staircase to my apartment. Sixth floor. No elevator. One of the many reasons Tyler’s always cursed this place. Halfway up, I pull out my phone and open our chat, typing a quick message as I climb.
Lucas: I’m home, what time
are you done with work?
Tyty: Well, well… look who
remembers where home is.
Are you here to pack your
remaining clothes?
I roll my eyes and laugh under my breath. He’s being dramatic, as always. He knew I’d be back today, he just can’t help himself.
Just as I’m about to type something back, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call.
My mother. The last time she called me was…
weeks ago. Our conversations aren’t exactly frequent.
I usually text her when I send money every weekend.
I don’t pay the loan money monthly anymore, but instead I send it weekly without fail.
It’s become a routine now. Since Alex is still paying me for the ASL lessons, I send the money to her, and she sends proof that she has made the payment that week.
I still haven’t told Alex about this loan. I do not want him associating with my mother or even knowing anything about it, or the sort. I feel like some things are just better left unsaid.
Nonetheless, I still feel guilty that he still pays for the lessons, even though he had told me countless times that he will not stop until he get to know ASL perfectly, and honestly from the slow pace we are going with it, l am pretty sure it will take a long time, but teaching him ASL feels more natural now, and not like the awkward way we started.
It’s more soft between us. I sign when I speak to him now.
We go over new signs while lying in bed, while brushing our teeth, while watching movies.
It’s become part of us — casual, playful, but intimate too.
I watch my phone ring and let it go unanswered on purpose. The moment it stops, I shoot Tyler a text instead.
Lucas: How about we
go Sephora shopping.
Tyty: Don’t tempt me
With a good time pls.
I’m broke as fuck.
Lucas: it’s on me, after
that we go can bowling.
Tyty: oh how I love this
version of you my love,
Finally ready to spoil us
With your sugar daddy’s
Card now huh?
He follows it with a row of teasing emojis and I can’t help but smile.
It’s not like I’ve been dying to use the Amex card. But ever since Alex made me an authorized user and handed me that sleek, heavy card in a ridiculous black velvet box, it’s just been… sitting there. With my name engraved on it. My name. A card linked directly to his account.
It still hasn’t fully clicked in my head that it’s mine to use. That I could swipe it anywhere and not worry about the total. That I can buy anything I want.
But I haven’t touched it once. Not since he gave it to me—nearly two weeks ago. I’d just stared at it then, like it was some kind of foreign object, like I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to keep it or frame it.
So maybe today… Maybe I want to try. Not for anything extravagant. Just a little something fun. With my best friend.
Another call buzzes through my phone and startles me just as I unlock my apartment door.
I glance down.
Mom.
FaceTime.
I let out a sigh and head towards the kitchen. Setting my bag down, I prop the phone against a coffee mug on the kitchen counter so it won’t slip, and hit accept.
Her face fills the screen and something in me stutters.
This is the woman I used to love more than anything. The woman whose hands once held mine so tightly, like she’d never let go. Now, all I see is a version of her I’ve been trying to unsee for years.
Still beautiful, yes. Always was. Her features are softer than the last time I saw her, less drawn, less brittle. But her eyes are troubled and stormy in a way that makes my stomach twist.
I raise a brow and sign, “What is it?”
She lifts her hands to reply, but I shake my head and tap my ear. Hearing aids are on.
She nods, exhales slowly. “Is Tyler there with you?”
My brows knit. The question is unexpected.
“He’s not,” I sign. “Why? What’s going on?”
Her lips press together tightly. She glances away from the screen for a beat, then back at me, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.
“I need you to come home, Lucas,” she says, voice low. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something… big. And I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it alone.”
My stomach drops.
The urge to shut down rises in me, fast and familiar. I narrow my eyes, studying her through the screen. She looks twitchy, distracted. Her blonde bangs are damp with sweat, and she keeps fidgeting like her skin doesn’t quite fit right.
“Are you high?” I sign, expression hardening.
Her nostrils flare slightly, and she exhales, long and sharp like she’s trying not to explode.
“I’m not high,” she says, clearly offended. “And I’m not drunk either. God, Lucas, stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Well, you’re not saying anything.” I sign it flatly. “What do you want from me?”
For a moment, there’s silence. Then I see tears gathering slowly in her eyes, glassy and stubborn. She blinks them away, but I notice.
“Lucas,” she says softly now, like she’s not sure if I’ll hang up. “Please… for once, just listen to me. Come home. I know I’ve messed up, I know I’m not the mother you wanted but this… this is important. For both of us.”
Something in her voice breaks me.
It’s not just desperation—it’s fear. Real, bone-deep fear. Like whatever she’s about to say is heavy enough to shatter either her or me. Or both. It coils in my gut, tight and suffocating. What could be so urgent? What could be so bad that she looks like she’s unraveling right in front of me?
And the worst part? The part I wish I could erase?
Is that I still care for her
After everything. After the years of silence, the coldness, the screaming matches, and slammed doors.
After what her ex-boyfriend’s son did to me, the way she looked the other way, the way she pretended not to see me falling apart, there’s still a part of me that aches for her.
Still a part that wants to believe she’s trying this time.
I hate it.
I hate that she still has that hold on me.
I let out a sharp sigh, jaw tight, then give her a stern look on my face.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in about two hours,” I sign. “But I swear, if this isn’t important, if this turns out to be another one of your games—I’m done. You won’t see me again.”
She gives a small, jerky nod. Her eyes are red, glassy with the tears she’s trying so hard to keep in.
“I’ll be waiting,” she says quietly.
I hang up.
Fuck.
Fuck.
fuck.
My breathing comes out uneven. I don’t know what I’m walking into, and the not-knowing makes my skin itch. Why does she always do this? Why does she keep pulling me back, even when I’ve clawed so hard to move forward? I grab my phone and type quickly:
Lucas: Hey Ty. Can we please push
Sephora and bowling till tomorrow?
I need to go see my mom, she says
It’s urgent. I’ll be back tonight and
Spend lots of time with you, okay?
I stare at the message for a second, then hit send. I hate bailing on Tyler. But something about this… whatever this is with my mom… it feels different. Heavy. Like it has something to do with me.
I shove the phone in my pocket and grab my Jacket.
I should text Alex, too. Should tell him I’m leaving town. But the thought of dragging him into this—into her—makes my stomach churn.
He doesn’t belong in that part of my world. In the wreckage I came from. He’s good and warm and careful with me in a way I never expected. He sees the light in me, not the damage. And I want to keep it that way.
So I don’t tell him or text him.
I’ll be back soon, I tell myself. Just a few hours. Just long enough to hear whatever this “big” thing is and leave it behind.
Just long enough to remind myself why I left her in the first place.
***