It’s an alert from Cash App.
My chest tightens when I read it, and I know who it’s from.
It makes my stomach twist sharply. Even though he said it—five thousand every Friday—I didn’t quite believe it until now.
He had asked me for my bank details on Monday when we started, and I had given him my Cash App.
I stare at the number. Four days. Just four days, and it’s already there. Something I work for hours and extra shifts, which takes one month to get.
“What’s wrong?” Tyler asks from the couch, his tone sharper now.
I hesitate, then walk over and hand him my phone. He glances down. His eyes widen slightly, and then he lets out a low whistle.
So… he’s really serious about this, huh?” Tyler leans back, handing me the phone. “That’s insane.”
I shrug, but it feels heavy. Confusing. I stare at the screen again, debating if I should text him now or later. I don’t even know what to say to him.. I let out a groan, then tuck my phone back into my pocket.
“You gonna quit your job now?” Tyler asks, watching me carefully.
I hesitate, my fingers brushing the back of my neck. The thought alone makes me feel strange, like I’m standing at the edge of something unfamiliar.
“I don’t know,”I sign slowly.
He frowns, confused. “Why not? With that amount, you don’t have to kill yourself working anymore. You can actually breathe, Lucas.”
But that’s the problem. I don’t know how to breathe without working. I’ve been moving nonstop for so long, it feels like my entire life is stitched together by late shifts and tired mornings. My routine has been my armor—work, survive, don’t ever think of the past, repeat. The idea of just… stopping? Of lying around all day after school until it’s time to meet Alex?
I shake my head, rubbing at my jaw.
“It’s not easy,” I sign. I’m not used to it. Doing nothing.
Tyler studies me for a moment, his brow creased. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe it’s time you try,” he says softly. “You’ve done enough, Lucas. You don’t have to prove anything anymore.”
But maybe it’s not about proving anything. Maybe it’s just about surviving. And maybe I’m scared of what happens when I finally stop running.
I don’t say anything.
Tyler watches me, his gaze sharp but unreadable. I can tell he’s thinking something—something heavier than just the money.
His fingers drum lightly against his knee before he finally asks, “Are your nightmares back?”
The question catches me off guard. I blink, my lips parting slightly before I shake my head.
“No,” My hands move automatically.“I haven’t had one in months.”
He doesn’t react immediately. He just looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he’s searching for cracks. I try not to shift under the weight of it. Then he leans forward slightly, his voice a little calmer this time.
“What about the triggers? The memories?”
I stiffen.
That hesitation—it’s small, barely a breath, but Tyler catches it. He always does.
“What triggered it?” voice getting hard, “Who?”
I force my shoulders to relax before signing again.
“I haven’t had them for long.”
