I stared.
“You took it from my account?”
She nodded.
“He was in a difficult spot.”
I took a breath.
“Is he paying it back?”
Dad set down his fork.
“Gage, it’s family money.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Then I looked toward Zayn.
He continued eating.
Nobody seemed surprised.
Nobody seemed uncomfortable.
Four hundred dollars had disappeared from the account where I deposited earnings from my business, and everyone expected me to accept it.
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I said, “Okay.”
But I remembered.
On my eighteenth birthday, I opened a new bank account in my name alone.
I transferred fifteen thousand two hundred twenty-nine dollars from my accumulated business savings into it.
I left eleven hundred forty-two dollars in the original account.
I also changed my store’s payment instructions so future deposits went directly into my new account.
I didn’t announce the change.
Nobody had shown much interest in my business before.
I saw no reason to invite a conversation about money I had earned.
Three weeks later, Zayn announced his engagement.
His fiancée, Kylie Ellison, was twenty-four.
She worked as a dental hygienist and lived in Ogallala.
She was cheerful, friendly, and genuinely interested in other people.
The first time she visited our house, she asked me about the printers.
Not just whether they worked.
She wanted to know what I made.
How I found customers.
Whether I designed the parts myself.
I showed her several examples.
She listened.
Then said, “Gage, that’s really impressive.”
I remember looking at her for a moment.
It was such a simple compliment.
But in our house, people rarely spoke about my work that way.
I liked Kylie immediately.
Her parents were Boyd and Renee Ellison.
Boyd owned a farm-equipment repair shop outside Ogallala.
Renee worked part-time at the local library and helped with the shop’s bookkeeping.
They were practical people.
The kind who asked questions, listened carefully, and remembered the answers.
Zayn’s engagement party took place at a rented lodge near Lake McConaughy.
There was music.
A large buffet.
A photographer.
A decorated cake.
A photo booth filled with ridiculous hats.
And enough food for a crowd much larger than the one that attended.
Zayn walked around proudly telling everyone he’d arranged the entire celebration.
He wanted Kylie’s family to know he could provide impressive things.
I spent much of the evening outside on the deck.
The lake stretched beneath the sunset.
A warm breeze moved through the trees.
Boyd came outside carrying a cup of coffee.
We started talking.
Eventually, I told him about my business.
He seemed genuinely interested.
Then he mentioned an old radio in his workshop.
It had belonged to his father.
The volume knob had broken years earlier, so he’d been adjusting it with a pair of pliers.
I laughed.
“Send me a picture. I can probably make you a new knob.”
Boyd looked at me.
Then smiled.
“You do that, son, and you’ve got a friend in Ogallala.”
He held out his hand.
I shook it.
For some reason, that handshake stayed with me.
A little later, Zayn came onto the deck.
Boyd turned toward him.
“So, when do I get to see that work truck?”
Zayn laughed.
“Soon.”
Boyd nodded.
“I thought you’d found one.”
“Still looking for the right deal.”
Boyd didn’t say anything else.
But I noticed his expression change.
At the time, I didn’t understand why.
I would remember that conversation almost a year later.
The engagement party ended late.
Zayn remained at the lodge with Kylie and her family.
I rode home with Mom and Dad.
Dad drove his GMC pickup.
Mom sat in the passenger seat scrolling through photographs from the party.
I sat in the back.
For the first hour, nobody spoke much.
I was tired.
My phone battery was low.
I’d spent the evening listening to Zayn talk about the future business he intended to build.
I wanted to get home and sleep.
Then Mom turned around in her seat.
“Gage, we need to talk about your savings.”
I looked up.
“Okay.”
She smiled.
“Your brother needs a little help getting started.”
I waited.
“Between the wedding and his business, things are expensive.”
I nodded slowly.
“What kind of help?”
Mom folded her hands.
“Fifteen thousand dollars.”
For several seconds, I stared at her.
Then I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the number was so specific.
So enormous.
And so close to everything I’d saved.
“Mom, that’s almost all my money.”
She shrugged.
“You live at home. You don’t have a mortgage. You don’t have children. What do you need that much for?”
I stared toward the dark highway.
Then answered.
“My business.”
Dad spoke from the front seat.
“You’re making little plastic parts, Gage.”
I took a breath.
“I’m making money doing it.”
He shook his head.
“Your brother is starting a real company.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Then I asked.
“Does Zayn have any customers?”
Mom sighed.
“Gage.”
“Does he have a mower?”
Dad’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“That’s what the money is for.”
I looked toward Mom.
“So you want me to give him fifteen thousand dollars to start a business he hasn’t actually started?”
She frowned.
“It’s an investment in your brother’s future.”
I took a breath.
“Then why aren’t you investing your own money?”
Dad looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Watch your attitude.”
I stared down at my hands.
For a moment, I thought about the four hundred dollars Mom had already taken.
The years of watching money appear whenever Zayn needed something.
Then I said something I had never said so clearly before.
“No.”
The truck became silent.
Mom turned toward me.
“What?”
“I’m not giving Zayn fifteen thousand dollars.”
Dad’s voice became very quiet.
“You live under my roof.”
“I know.”
“You eat the food I buy.”
“I know.”
“And you think you can refuse to help this family?”
I looked toward the window.
Then answered.
“Yes.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Mom said something that made my stomach tighten.
“My name is still on your bank account.”
I took a breath.
“I know.”
She smiled faintly.
“Then don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
I didn’t tell her the money had been moved.
Not then.
I simply looked toward the fields beyond the highway.
Dad took the next exit.
At first, I thought he needed gas.
We pulled into a station near Cozad.
Four pumps stood beneath bright white lights.
A convenience store was open.
Next door, a laundromat displayed a sign that read OPEN 24 HOURS.
Dad stopped near the air pump.
Put the truck in park.
Then turned toward me.