Chapter 30 — Lucas POV
I woke before I opened my eyes.
Not because I wanted to — but because something in the silence felt wrong.
Noah was warm against my chest, one leg thrown over mine, breathing slow and steady like the world couldn’t touch him in this bed. My hand was still curled at his waist from where I’d fallen asleep holding him.
For a second, I let myself stay there.
Let myself pretend the only thing that existed was the rise and fall of his lungs.
Then the knocking started.
It wasn’t loud.
But it was enough.
Every muscle in my body tightened before my brain caught up. My eyes snapped open. Noah stirred, confused, still soft with sleep. The knock came again — firmer this time — and my pulse spiked.
No one comes here unannounced.
I eased out from under him, already alert. Already calculating. The warehouse was still too close in my head. My body hadn’t forgotten what it meant when someone showed up without warning.
“Stay,” I murmured quietly.
I was halfway down the hallway when the third knock landed.
I didn’t turn on the lights. I stepped to the door and leaned toward the peephole.
And froze.
My mother.
My father behind her.
Not police.
Not Dylan.
Not someone connected to something dangerous.
My parents.
The adrenaline didn’t disappear — it shifted.
Confusion replaced threat.
Why are they here?
Another knock. Lighter.
“Lucas?” my mom called. “Honey?”
Behind me, I heard sheets rustle. Bare feet hit the floor.
“Lucas?” Noah called softly.
I unlocked the door but only opened it halfway.
“Mom?”
Her face lit up. “Oh good, you’re home.”
Of course I’m home. It’s eight in the morning.
Then my father’s eyes moved past my shoulder.
And I realized.
I was shirtless.
So was Noah.
And he was walking up behind me.
I opened the door wider before it looked suspicious.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked evenly.
“It’s a holiday,” my mom said lightly. “We thought we’d surprise you.”
Surprise.
My jaw tightened.
Noah stepped into the hallway behind me, still only in his shorts. My dad’s gaze locked onto him.
And held.
I turned to look at him again to see a hickey on his neck.
Shit.
Do I have one too?
This is bad.
My mom hugged me the way she always did — fast and tight.
“Baby,” she murmured.
When she pulled back, her eyes shifted past me.
She knew exactly who he was.
She’d hugged him before.
Welcomed him back.
Seen him at our house again after years.
But now her gaze dropped.
To his bare chest.
Probably his hickey.
To the hallway.
To the open bedroom.
And something sharper flickered behind her eyes.
A mother’s math.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
“Good morning, Mrs. Carter,” Noah said politely, unaware of what his neck looked like right now.
Unaware how this all looked right now.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she replied, but her eyes kept scanning.
The couch.
The kitchen.
The bedroom.
The unmade bed visible from the doorway.
“You two… okay?” my dad asked.
Not are you friends.
Not anymore.
Something else.
“I’m going to put a shirt on,” Noah said quickly.
“Yeah,” I added.
Before we could move, my mom’s phone rang.
She glanced down.
“Sophie.”
Noah froze.
“What do you mean he doesn’t have a dorm anymore?” she asked into the phone.
Silence filled the apartment.
“Well, he’s here. At Lucas’s.”
Noah’s shoulders went rigid.
“She’s on her way,” my mom said after hanging up. “They went to your dorm. Housing told them you moved out.”
My dad crossed his arms.
“You living here?” he asked Noah.
Noah glanced at me.
That hesitation said everything.
“Let’s grab shirts,” I said calmly.
We walked down the hallway.
Together.
Into my one-bedroom apartment.
With the door closing behind us.
Inside the bedroom, the air felt thinner.
Noah pulled a shirt over his head too fast, like it could undo what they’d already seen.
“I can’t believe they went to the dorm,” he muttered.
“You didn’t tell them you moved.”
“I was going to. I just needed time.”
“Time for what?”
He looked at me.
Not scared of my parents.
Scared of his.
“My dad won’t take it well.”
That wasn’t news.
“They’re going to ask where I sleep,” he said quietly. “Why I moved. Why I didn’t tell them.”
“You don’t have to tell them today.”
“If he figures it out before I say it, that’s worse.”
He grabbed the unused condom from the bed and shoved it into the drawer.
“They know,” he whispered.
“They suspect.”
“That’s just as bad.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I can say I’m on the couch.”
It wasn’t the lie that bothered me.
It was why he needed it.
“Are you not ready?” I asked.
“No.”
Not shame.
Survival.
“Then we don’t force it.”
He exhaled slowly.
“But if he says something—”
“Lucas.”
There was warning in his voice.
Not fear of his dad.
Fear of me.
“I’m not starting anything,” I said. “But I’m not letting him disrespect you.”
Another knock.
He flinched.
I didn’t.
“Stay close to me,” I murmured.
Noah’s parents arrived minutes later.
His mom rushed in first, relieved.
His dad followed.
Straight-backed.
Assessing.
“You stopped answering your phone,” his father said.
“I was asleep.”
Then came the question.
“So where exactly did you move to?”
“Here,” Noah said.
His father’s gaze sharpened.
He definitely noticed our hickeys. Noah’s mom was a little slower to notice.
“Sorry we look like this. We were at this party last night and it kind of got crazy,” I said.
“I thought this place was one bedroom.” Noah’s dad’s face twisted.
“It is,” I answered.
“And you’re… roommates?”
“I’ve been sleeping on the couch,” Noah said.
His father looked at the couch.
Then at the bedroom.
“You moved out of your dorm to sleep on a couch.”
Noah didn’t answer.
“You two seem… comfortable,” his father said.
Pointed.
I stepped half a step closer to Noah.
His father noticed.
“I’d like to see the rest of the place.”
There it was.
“Give us a second,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
We went back into the bedroom.
Closed the door.
And that’s when we heard it.
A shift outside.
Too close.
The handle turned.
The door opened.
No knock.
His father stood there.
“How long,” he asked quietly, “were you planning to lie to me?”
His eyes moved.
The bed.
The drawer.
The visible condoms in the drawer.
“Oh,” he said flatly.
Now we were here.
“How long have you been playing house?”
“Dad—”
“Don’t.”
He looked around the room slowly.
“So this is why you moved out.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When? After you decided what lie sounded cleanest?”
I stepped slightly in front of Noah.
“This isn’t your conversation,” he snapped.
“It kind of is.”
“You think this is a game?”
“No.”
“Then get out of my way.”
“Dad, stop,” Noah said.
“Stop what? Stop asking why my son moved out of his dorm to shack up in a one-bedroom apartment with some guy?”
The word shack landed ugly.
His eyes dropped to our wrists.
Matching bracelets.
The same arcade bracelets we’d gotten as kids.
The ones Noah thought were lost.
The ones I kept.
The ones I gave back to him when I asked him to be mine.
“I knew what I was walking into when you called Noah perfect and I saw those stupid matching bracelets,” his father said. “You think that makes this real?”
Noah instinctively covered his wrist.
“Not only did you have to act like a little wimp in his shadow your whole life—”
“Stop,” his mom pleaded.
He didn’t.
“—but now you want to be his little bitch too?”
Silence.
I didn’t hesitate.
“Actually,” I said evenly, “we take turns.”
His face went red.
He grabbed Noah’s arm.
Hard.
“We’re leaving.”
“No,” Noah said.
Noah’s father slapped him. The shove came fast.
Violent.
Noah hit the dresser.
His father closed the distance again.
“David!” Noah’s mom gasped.
But Noah didn’t shrink.
He straightened.
“You don’t get to push me around anymore.”
His father swung.
Noah caught the hit awkwardly and shoved him back.
For the first time in my life, I saw anger on Noah’s face instead of fear.
His father lunged.
Hands going for his neck.
I moved.
Shoved him away.
He swung at me.
His fist clipped my shoulder.
I hit him back.
One clean punch to the jaw.
The room exploded.
Then—
“STOP!”
Noah’s voice cut through everything.
We froze.
He was shaking.
But not small.
“You don’t get to touch him,” Noah said.
Then quieter.
Raw.
“You don’t get to hit me anymore.”
Silence.
His mother went pale.
“What?” she whispered.
Hit me.
Anymore.
Meaning before.
Meaning more than once.
“When,” I asked, my voice dangerously calm, “did you hit him?”
“Discipline isn’t abuse,” his father snapped, holding his jaw.
“You always hated me!” Noah yelled. “For not being good enough. For not being you. For not being Lucas.”
His mother covered her mouth.
“You told me I made you do it every time,” Noah said.
His father didn’t deny it.
He just stood there.
That silence said everything.
“I didn’t know,” I said quietly.
Noah glanced at me — almost guilty.
“You were a kid,” I told him softly. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”
I looked at his father.
“Give me the word right now, Noah, and I’ll break his neck.”
“Lucas no, stop.”
“If you walk away from this family,” his father said coldly, “don’t expect to come back.”
“I’m not walking away,” Noah said. “You are.”
“You’ll regret this.”
He left.
His mother hesitated.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered again.
Then she followed him.
The apartment fell silent.
Except for Noah’s breathing.
I stepped toward him carefully.
He didn’t pull away.
He collapsed into me.
And I held him like the world had just tried to take him back.
“I need everyone to leave,” I said quietly.
My parents didn’t argue.
The door closed.
And it was just us.
I didn’t let Noah go.
But my brain wouldn’t stop.
When I was humiliating him at school…
When I was pushing him away…
When I was making him feel small…
His dad was going home and making him smaller.
And no one even knew.
My chest tightened painfully.
I thought I was the worst thing he had to survive back then.
I wasn’t even close.
My eyes burned.
No wonder he flinches at raised voices.
No wonder he shuts down when things get loud.
No wonder he can’t say he loves me back.
He learned love with conditions.
He learned love with consequences.
And I’m asking him to trust it.
“Noah…” I said softly.
“Don’t…” he replied.
“I have to say this.”
“It’s in the past.”
“Noah, if I had known back then—”
“I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t push.
I just held him.
“You’re safe here,” I said quietly. “You don’t ever have to earn that.”
Silence.
Then—
“You don’t look at me like he did,” Noah whispered.
I tightened my arms around him and he didn’t flinch.
I should have stepped in between their confrontation sooner… regardless of that man being his father or not.
But I’m proud of Noah for standing up for himself.
I went into the top dresser drawer and grabbed his medicine. I hadn’t seen him take it in a while actually. I gave it to him. Made sure he took some.
Noah and I lay in bed afterward. My arms holding him tight. I waited for him to fall asleep.
I can’t go to training with him like this. I just can’t. Again I’ll take whatever punishment he wants to give me. Nothing could be worse than leaving Noah alone right now.
I texted Dylan.
I’ll be late… I’ll still come but just not right now. Not while Noah needed me.