Chapter 48 #3
“I’m sorry,” he signs. “I’m so sorry they did that to you, Lucas.”
I shake my head, forcing him to stop. He shouldn’t apologize. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault. And I don’t want an apology—not from him, not from anyone, not even from the people who did it. I don’t want their guilt. I don’t want their words. It wouldn’t fix me.
I just want peace.
I want the emptiness gone.
I want the weight lifted.
I want to feel something good, anything good again.
Why can’t they give me that?
Tyler pulls me into his arms, and I let him. His scent is citrus and warm skin—not what I crave, not the sandalwood, lavender, and faint amber that clings to Alex like a memory you can’t forget, but still, this is enough, Tyler is here. It’s real. It’s enough… for now.
I close my eyes and press my face into his chest, letting his heartbeat thud against my ear, letting his hand pat my back in small, steady movements. I can’t tell if it’s comfort or just a distraction. But it keeps me breathing.
***
My eyes stay locked on the laptop screen, the words blurring, swimming, dancing in and out of focus.
Congratulations.
Dear Lucas Miller,
On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted as a transfer student to Blackwood University’s School of Business, with a Major in Accounting, beginning spring—
There’s more written below, something about how my application stands out, confirming enrollment, and deadlines, but I’m not reading it.
I can’t. My gaze stays nailed to that first word.
Congratulations. My mind clings to it like it’s the only thing keeping me from sinking.
The letters feel heavy, like they’ve been carved into stone and dropped straight into my chest.
I got the email notification last night, right after Tyler tucked me into bed — not before forcing food down my throat that sat in my stomach like gravel, sharp and uncomfortable, threatening to rise back up if I moved wrong.
The Email subject line had glared at me: Admission Decision from Blackwood University.
I didn’t click. I didn’t even hover over it.
I just curled tighter beneath the covers, staring at the rain cloud humidifier on my nightstand.
I couldn’t hear the water drip, but I watched the light-blue mist curl into the air, pretending it was enough to quiet the static in my head.
Almost enough. Almost. My thoughts kept circling back, chewing themselves raw.
What if they rejected me? What if they didn’t?
The thoughts loop over the other storms already tearing through me.
And now, in the dimness of my room — blinds shut, air stale, windows untouched for days, I finally looked.
My head feels hollow, my chest tight, my throat dry.
A part of me knows this is the thing I’ve wanted for years.
The thing I’ve worked toward, dreamed about.
Days ago, I would’ve been tearing through the house, maybe even running across the roof, grinning until my face hurt.
But right now? I feel… nothing. Not joy. Not relief. Just a strange, quiet ache. Like my body doesn’t know how to let the good in anymore.
A shadow shifts behind me, and I turn. Tyler is standing there, eyes wide, hands flying to cover his mouth as he stares at my laptop screen. Then he looks at me, happiness flooding in his eyes.
“You got in,” he signs, hands sharp and quick, his excitement almost vibrating in the air between us. “This is like a dream come true.”
I let out a long sigh, my eyes flicking back to the acceptance letter glowing on the screen. Before I can think twice, I snap the laptop shut like it’s something dangerous and push back from the desk.
All I want is my bed—thick blankets, darkness, and the continuous silence.
But Tyler is in front of me before I take two steps, his body blocking the way. His brows knit together.
“You’re not happy?” he signs, his movements slowing, heavy with confusion. “It’s Blackwood. Your dream.”
I huff, shaking my head, fingers already lifting to answer.
“I can’t go.”
I step to the side, but he mirrors me, refusing to let me pass. My frustration sparks, and I shoot him a glare.
“What the hell does that mean?” His hands slice the air, impatience pouring off him in sharp movements. “Why can’t you go?”
My own hands are faster now, my chest tight.
“I can’t afford it. I don’t have the luxury for that.”
His face twists like I just told him the sky isn’t real.
“The fuck you mean you can’t afford it?” His signs all jagged edges now, angry and urgent. “You have an entire trust fund. Sitting in your name. For this exact reason.”
I stare at him like he’s the one losing it.
“It’s not my money.” The words feel like gravel in my hands as I sign. “It’s Alex’s. How am I supposed to use it? How can I even have the heart to when I’ve pushed him away? When he doesn’t want to see me anymore?”
Tyler’s eyes narrow. “It is your money. It’s in your name. Alex doesn’t have access to it, and it’s irrevocable. He set it up that way.”
“You think I don’t know that?” My signing slows, weighted with a kind of quiet anger.
“I know. And when Alex and I were together, I didn’t mind that I would use it for school.
But now?” I shake my head. “Now it feels like I conned him. Like I took what I wanted and then slammed the door in his face. I hate it, Ty. I hate it.”
He stares at me for a long beat, something softer trying to push past the frustration on his face, but it doesn’t win.
“Okay,” he signs, “I get what you’re saying, I do, but let’s rewind for a sec, what do you mean he doesn’t want to see you anymore? You’re the one who said you didn’t want to see him.”
My chest tightens.
“Lucas,” he signs, this time slower, “he’s been here every damn day. And if he’s not here, he’s texting and calling me, checking up on you to see if you’ve eaten or slept. Every thirty minutes when he’s not here, he’s checking in on you, Lucas. Every. Thirty. Minutes.”
I blink, everything he just signed landing heavy in my chest, making it almost hard to breathe. My mind scrambles to piece them together, and my heart is pounding so hard that I have to swallow hard.
“What do you mean, he’s been here?” I sign, my hands trembling so much the words almost falter in the air.
Tyler exhales slowly, his expression softening, but there’s something heavy in his eyes.
“He’s been around ever since I brought you back home,” he signs carefully, as if each word might shatter me.
I just stare at him, unblinking. My pulse is pounding in my ears.
“He hasn’t been inside or anything,” Tyler continues, “but he’s been parking his car at the curb near our apartment most of the time when he’s not at work. When he’s not there, Mike is. Alex even sleeps at the motel nearby at night.”
I blink hard, my disbelief almost choking me.
“Why would he do that?” The signs spill from me fast, sharp, like I’m trying to slice through the absurdity of it.
The image hits me—Alexander Petrov, in that sleek, too-perfect world of his, sitting in his car all day in this run-down street. The motel nearby is three blocks away, and it is entirely out of place for someone like him. He wouldn’t be comfortable there. He shouldn’t be comfortable there.
“He said he has to be nearby in case there’s an emergency,” Tyler signs, glancing away briefly before looking back at me.
“I offered him the living room, told him you wouldn’t even notice since you barely leave your room.
But he refused—over and over. Said you’d know if he was close.
Something about his scent, or some shit like that.
And… he didn’t want to freak you out, since you said you didn’t want to see him. ”
Something twists hard in my chest, the weight of it unbearable.
Fuck, Alex.
Tyler’s words trigger a memory so vivid it feels like it’s happening now—one quiet night, tangled together in bed, his warmth pressed to mine. I’d told him, half-asleep, without even thinking, that I would know if he was near, even in a room full of strangers. He’d asked how.
And I’d told him the truth—his scent… It’s unique, unshakable. It’s something I could never mistake for anyone else. How calming and warm it is, how it clings to me even when he’s not around, like a part of him had marked me without asking. Lodged deep under my skin, impossible to scrub out.
I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. It’s not pure relief, more like a fragile thread of it, tangled with an ache and a longing so deep it cuts.
I move past Tyler, heading straight for the door, but his arm comes up, stopping me before I can touch the handle.
“Where are you going?” he signs, confusion drawn tight across his face.
“Is he sitting in his car right now?” My hands feel heavy, each movement weighted.
Tyler gives me a small, sad smile, then shakes his head.
“No. Mike’s the one downstairs.”
The tiny spark of hope in my chest flickers.
“Alex left this morning,” Tyler continues, “said he had to take care of something. But… he should be back later tonight.”
I shake my head, my heart thrumming too fast to wait.
“I need to see him.”
The words tear out of me in my voice before I even know I’ve spoken.
Both Tyler and I freeze. My throat burns at the sound, rough from days of silence.
I didn’t think my voice would come again, not after my mind buried it under everything else.
The trauma, fear, and the weight I carry. But right now, none of that matters.
I need to see him.
I need my Alex.
“He might be at his apartment,” I rasp again, my voice cracked and scratchy. “Ty… I need to go to him. I need him.”
Tyler watches me for a long moment. I know he hears the desperation bleeding through my voice, the plea lodged in my chest. Something in his expression softens, loosens.
“Okay. Chill.” His signs are slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to calm a restless child.
“You need to put on your hearing aids before you go. But first and most importantly, you need to clean up. You haven’t showered in days.
Your hair’s a mess and you kinda stink. So, how about we take care of that first, okay? ”
His hands move with steady patience, his eyes warm in that way that can still cut through my chaos. I force myself to focus on that, the even rhythm of the way he signs, the way he doesn’t rush me, and his gaze holds me in place.
Another breath leaves me, this one pulled from somewhere deep in my chest. I nod slowly.
“Okay.”