Chapter 19 #2
“This is the last time I’ll tell you to quit that job, Lucas.”
My stomach twists.
Alex’s voice is cold. Not necessarily angry, just absolute.
“You work there again,” he continues, “and I swear I’ll burn the place down.”
My breath catches.
The way he says it, so steady and sure, he means it.
He is not threatening me. He’s stating a fact.
I look up at him, my body rigid, the expression on his face—the sharp, merciless glint in his eyes, it’s the same one he had that night in the alley the first time I saw him, and it’s also the first time I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape this man.
I remember the blood on his knuckles, the way his eyes burned as he looked at me through the darkness, the way he didn’t flinch when I saw him for exactly what he was.
How can someone look so cold, so utterly dangerous, and still somehow beautiful like a fallen angel, untouchable and unreal? Why do my insides flutter whenever he looks at me?
What scares me the most is that I’m not terrified of him.
No.
I’m terrified that if I don’t quit that job—
Alexander might actually burn the place down.
***
I step out of the manager’s office, my chest tight, breath shaky like I’ve been holding it all shift. My locker looks emptier than I remembered. Just a few things crammed inside, all of them pulled out in seconds—no sentimental goodbyes. No one would notice I’m gone, anyway.
I move quietly through the back hallway, eyes on the exit, hoping to slip away without another word. The air feels heavy, like I’m already a ghost here.
Alexander’s words won’t stop replaying in my head.
You work there again, I’ll burn the place down.
The way he said it—it wasn’t a threat. It was the truth. Cold, final, like gravity pulling me down. And instead of fear, it left me rattled in a way I can’t name. I didn’t even argue. I just came here to quit, like the decision had already been made for me.
I’m only a few steps from my bike when my name cuts through the air.
“Lucas!”
I freeze, then turn. Megan jogs toward me, apron stained with coffee, hair falling into her face. Her eyes soften the second they land on me.
“You’re actually quitting?” she asks, a little out of breath.
I hesitate, then nod.
Her brows pinch together, concern flickering across her face. She exhales, like she’s trying to catch words that won’t come.
“You… found a better job?”
It takes me a moment before I sign, “Something like that.”
Her eyes drop to my hands, then lift again. She smiles faintly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. Megan’s the only one here who bothered to learn my language, who tried. Her father and younger sister are Deaf—it made her patient in a way the others never were.
“Will you be okay?” she signs, her fingers a little shaky, but still clear.
I shrug. The truth is, I don’t know. But I offer a small smile anyway, just to ease the crease in her forehead.
She exhales again, shoulders dropping. “Work will be so stressful without you,” she says. “I wish it were Jeremy who quit instead. The bastard didn’t even show up today—called him all morning, and he’s still ignoring me.”
I huff softly, not surprised. Jeremy was always skipping shifts, leaving me to pick up the pieces. I won’t miss his face. Not even a little.
Megan shifts her weight, takes a small step closer. Then she signs slowly, carefully,
“I’ll miss you.”
Something catches in my chest, and I beam at her.
“I’ll miss you, too.” I sign back.
We stand there longer than we should, silence stretching like it wants to hold us. Finally, I lift a hand in a wave, swing a leg over my bike, and push off.
The road stretches out before me, cool air biting against my cheeks. My chest still feels heavy, but somewhere inside me, there’s the slightest flicker of anticipation.
I have a picnic to set up.
***
I pick at the corner of the picnic mat absentmindedly as Tyler uncaps a bottle of soda and hands it to me with a grin.
Finally, after years of saying we should do this sometime, we’re here. The sun is low but not setting yet. Golden light pools over the lake like melted honey, the kind of lighting that makes everything look a little softer.
We sit in silence for a while, unwrapping sandwiches and tearing open bags of chips. Tyler leans back, watching the ducks glide over the water like he’s trying to memorize the moment.
I try to do the same. But my thoughts… they scatter.
Because I used Alexander’s money to buy this picnic basket, there are loads of snacks and junk food inside.
Alex had wired my weekly pay to me this morning after I left his place.
I wasn’t expecting it, especially since I hadn’t even taught him ASL this week.
Monday had been a disaster. I’d fallen into his pool, he’d kissed me—my first kiss, by the way—left a hickey on my neck, and then disappeared on a work trip for the rest of the week.
He came back yesterday, Friday, and things escalated so fast I’m still reeling.
God, I can’t believe I actually came in my pants just from dry humping. And the size of him—
Okay, stop. Enough.
A nudge on my shoulder pulls me out of the spiral.
“You okay?” Tyler signs, his lips moving with the words at the same time.
I blink, then force a small smile.
“Yeah,” I sign back, “just tired.”
He studies me for a moment, like he knows I’m holding back. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he grins and takes a long sip from his can, eyes still fixed on me over the rim.
“How do you feel about quitting?” he asks finally, hands and voice in sync.
I exhale, my fingers hesitating in the air before moving again.
“I don’t know,” I sign slowly. “Right now… I feel good. Almost free.”
I pause, the weight of it settling in.
“I just don’t know if it’ll last.”
He doesn’t interrupt. Just watches.
“I didn’t even like the job,” I admit, my hands sharp with the confession. “But it was the only place that took me in. Every other door was shut. Even if it was loud, even if it was hard—it was… something.”
Tyler’s mouth lifts into a soft smile. Then, without warning, he ruffles my hair. I scowl, jerking back. My curls are a nightmare when someone ruffles them, and he knows it.
He smirks, unapologetic.
“I’m glad you quit,” he says. “You were starting to look like a walking corpse.”
I punch him lightly, and he barks a laugh.
I look down at my lap. And lick my lips nervously. Here goes nothing
“I have something to tell you.” I sign.
He sees the seriousness in my eyes because he drops the fries he’s about to munch on and gives me his attention.
His brow furrows. “Okay…”
I hesitate, my chest tightening.
Then I sign, slower this time,
“I’ve been communicating with Alex. Using my voice.”
He looks at me, confused for a while, then realization glints in his eyes. I can see the surprise settle into his face before it twists into something more complex.
“You mean… talking? Like actually talking?” He asks
I give a hesitant nod, and I can see his shoulder stiffen.
“Since when?”
I hesitate again. The first time was… the night of the auction. But I don’t tell him that, so I sign instead,
“Ever since I met him.”
He lets out a quiet laugh—dry, not amused.
“So… weeks ago”
My heart stumbles in my chest.
“I’m not mad,” he says, letting out a breath, like he can see my heart already breaking.
“I just—” He shakes his head, eyes flitting away from me, down to his own hands. “The only words you’ve been saying to me for the past four years are ‘happy birthday, Tyler’ every year.”
My chest caves. Guilt stabs sharp and unforgiving. I want to talk to him, I want to talk more, but I can’t. I still don’t know why I speak to Alex the way I do. I do not understand the science or the psychology behind it, but there is nothing I can do about it.
“I’m sorry,” I sign to him with a pleading look. “I’ll try, it’s not something I can control.”
“fuck Lucas, stop apologizing,” Tyler says calmly. “I am not mad at you. I know it is something you have no control over. I’m sorry for making you feel guilty.”
I look at him, checking if I’ll see any sign of disappointment in his eyes, but there’s none. Only a little bit of hurt that makes me feel like a Bad friend. We sit there again in silence. But this time it feels worse than before. Like something’s snapped between us and we’re trying not to bleed.
Then Tyler’s voice cuts through the silence,
“You like him.”
I tense. My heart feels like it stalls in my chest.
“It’s not a question,” he adds. “It’s obvious.”
I look down. I can feel his curious eyes still on me.
“I think I do.” I finally sign.
He doesn’t say anything right away. But the look he gives me, soft and knowing, makes my heart ache because he knows, he knows it’s not just ‘I think.’
His gaze presses into me, stripping down whatever walls I’ve tried to keep up, and I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Yes,” I sign. “I like him—more than I should. I let him kiss me. Touch me. I let him leave that mark on my neck because… I wanted him to; if I didn’t like him, I wouldn’t have let him touch me.”
Tyler doesn’t move.
“And I quit my job because he told me to. That makes me an idiot, right?”
“Lucas—”
“I know,” I sign before he can finish. My chest starts to tighten again. “I know it’s stupid. I barely know him. And yet he’s… he’s everywhere in my head. I let him into my life, and he just… he doesn’t ask, he takes and gives, and I let him. That makes me careless, doesn’t it?”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“he looks at me like I’m not broken. Like I’m not just Deaf or someone who chooses not to talk. He calls me beautiful. Holds me like I matter. Like I’m enough, he makes me feel—”
My hands freeze mid-sign. My throat aches.
I don’t know what I want to say. Feel loved? Cared for? Wanted? God, I barely know this man, and I don’t know what it is that I feel. But I feel it all at once, and it’s too much. It’s terrifying.
A sob breaks out of me. One I’ve been trying so hard to keep down. My body jolts slightly with it, and I can feel the tears burning in my eyes before they fall. My hands tremble as I try to cover my mouth.
Tyler moves before I even realize it, his arms wrap around me tightly. Firm. Real. And for a second, I hate myself for not being able to use my voice with him. But his hold doesn’t shake, doesn’t loosen.
I press my forehead into his shoulder, begging the universe and my body not to succumb to the violent way my body wants to give up and cry. By some miracle, it listens, and I swallow the tears down, burying them, just like how I’ve been doing for years.
Tyler rests his chin gently on my head, arms still firm around my back.
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” he whispers.
I bit my lips.
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he says again, slower this time. “You deserve to feel cared for.”
My chest collapses at that—the truth of it.
“I know you,” he continues, voice barely louder than the wind. “You don’t let people in easily. So if you let him in, it’s because some part of you needed it. Wanted it.”
I pull away gently, my eyes red, he touches my arm to look at him, and signs,
“You deserve every good thing life has to offer, Lucas. And you’re still my best friend and favorite person in this entire world.”
I smile at him, “You’re my favorite person, too.”
“Damn right I am,” he says gleefully, “now let’s enjoy our picnic, we have been wanting this for months.”