Page 7 of Forget

“Yeah, boss,” I murmur, following him to his office. Orla just winks at me as I pass her, not at all looking worried.

“Is there anything going on with you?” he asks, once he closes his door. “My brother has been up my ass asking if you’re doing okay. He doesn’t fucking care about anyone.”

“I have a lot on my mind,” I finally decide to say. “I’m fine, though.”

“You’re working two back to back shifts between our two businesses, aren’t you like sixteen?” he asks, his fingers raking through his dark brown hair.

Self consciously, I cross my arms over my chest, shrugging. “Mr. Lars said my age wouldn’t be an issue.”

“It’s not,” he says, exasperated, “but I’m using it to make a point. When are you going to school?”

“I’m not,” I state. “I had to drop out two weeks ago.”

“Those aren’t the words I was expecting,” Caleb says. “What the hell? Lars said you’re smart.”

Staring blankly at him, I take a deep breath. “A lot of things changed in the last two weeks. Since I’m responsible for financially supporting myself completely, I have to work more,” I explain. “This means I don’t have time for school. They ask too many questions, much like this. Are we done?”

Sitting on the edge of his desk, he shakes his head slowly. “Nope,” he grunts. “I have more questions than answers, and ifI go back to my brother with the bullshit you just told me, he’s going to lose his shit. I need more than this.”

Shoving the emotion into a tiny box so I won’t cry, I nod. Caleb is an alpha, and while he’s a hardass, he cares about his staff, even if he doesn’t typically give a shit about how old you are.

“After my first shift here, I went home to my apartment, to find that my landlord was kicking me out because my mother had an aneurysm and died,” I begin. “The paramedics were there, the police, and Mr. Coon. I was threatened with social services if I didn’t pack my bag and get out.”

“Is that why you always have the giant backpack with you?” Caleb groans, his piercing green eyes gazing at me as he starts to piece things together. “God, I’m an idiot. So where the hell are you living?”

“Here and there,” I mutter, swallowing hard. “Shelters won’t take me, and they ask too many questions too.”

“It’s snowing, Aisling,” he says slowly as if I’m an idiot. He’s tall and muscular, his brightly colored tattoos on display as he leans forward, his hands on his knees.

“I know that,” I sigh. “No one is going to rent an apartment to me at sixteen, Caleb. There are hostels that I’ll stay at until the snow clears up, and then I’ll go back to what I was doing before.”

“I need more than that. Who found your mom? Where are you staying?” he asks.

“I found her three days before they kicked me out,” I mumble. “There are parks nearby where I can stay and no one asks questions. Then, I use the showers and restrooms there before I go to work.”

“Fuck,” Caleb says. “Do you know how wrong all of this could go?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I ask. “I have no family, no resources and I’m a… kid.”

I was going to say omega, but since he’s an alpha, it would just rile him up even more. I’m hiding because it’s safer this way. The wheels are already turning in his head as he blows out a breath, and I stiffen as I wait for him to explode.

“You can’t sleep outside,” he says. “Aisling, you’ve shut down the bar every fucking night, and then you work a full shift for Lars. How are you still functioning?”

“Coffee,” I say, looking at him to see if he can see the irony.

“What are you eating? When are you sleeping? How are you fucking staying safe?” he explodes. “He’s going to fucking kill me!”

“No he’s not,” I tell him. “You’re my bosses, not my keepers. I’ll manage. Can I go back to work?”

“Yes, but only because it’s safer in here,” he grunts. Leaving quickly, I scurry back to my shift.

They’re sweet for worrying, but I just want to be forgotten, so I can keep to the fringes of society. I don’t need nor want questions or to end up in the system.

At the end of my shift, I leave the bar, only to find the snow is coming down so hard I can barely see.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I groan, standing by the door.

“You’re coming home with me, kid,” Mickey says. “I refuse to be the reason you don’t wake up in the morning.”