The words feel strange in my mouth. Unreal.
Ollie lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
I stare at the cash for a second longer than necessary. Not counting it. Just looking at it. My stomach twists, old instincts kicking in fast and hard.
“They must be shaking down Sully,” I say. “I wonder if he likes how it feels.”
His mouth pulls into a hard line. “He owes you. For everything he took. And for never supporting Owen.”
I shrug, forcing casual even though my chest feels tight. “I’m probably never going to see the rest.”
That part still hurts. Not the money itself, but what it represents. Years of scraping by. Of skipping meals without thinking twice so Owen could eat. Of pretending hunger was normal. Of telling myself I didn’t need much anyway.
I look down at the bills again, really seeing them this time.
Because my life doesn’t look like that anymore. I’ve gotsteady work now. A paycheck I can count on. Full benefits. A job where people respect me. I’m helping Owen in ways I never could before, and there’s money coming in from the bikers too. Money they’re insisting I take. Money that doesn’t feel like it’s going to vanish the second I breathe wrong.
Ollie’s voice pulls me back. “Maybe,” he says. “But save this. Just in case. We can start a savings account for Owen if you want.”
Something warm and overwhelming swells in my chest.
An account. Savings. A future that isn’t built on panic and crossed fingers.
I nod slowly, the amazement settling in deep. “Yeah,” I say softly. “I’d like that.”
I gather the cash and tuck it away carefully, like it’s fragile.
Not because I’m afraid to lose it.
But because it feels like proof that my life is changing.
And for the first time, I don’t feel guilty for letting myself believe it.
I nod and slide the money back into the envelope, andthe office door creaks open.
Owen peers in, eyes immediately locking on the desk. “Cool,” he says, grinning. “We’re rich. Can we go out to eat?”
I laugh, sharply and tired, and shake my head. “Nope. I’m not going anywhere tonight. I’ve had enough people interacting.”
I lean into Ollie, resting my head against his shoulder. He tips his head slightly, resting his cheek against my hair like it’s instinct.
I stand and flip off the lights in the bay. “I’m going to start dinner. Don’t talk to strangers or let them in.”
“Got it,” Mack says.
“Can we at least keep the dog?” Owen asks.
He’s already kneeling, Bandit losing his mind, kissing hisface, spinning in tight circles like he’s won the lottery. Owen’s laughter fills the shop, bright and free.
I look at Ollie.
Something in him softens. I can see it happen in real time.
“Yeah, bud,” he says quietly. “You can keep the dog.”
“Yes,” Owen squeals.
Mack laughs and drops down to pet Bandit, who accepts the attention like this is exactly where he’s always belonged.
