Page 4 of Forget

“Nah,” Mr. Lars says with a snort. “I texted him that he’ll have an extra pair of hands and I recommended you. You’ll start tomorrow.”

I’m quitting school as of tonight, so it works for me.I can’t work, go to school, and navigate life without falling apart. I’m smart enough to know my limits.

“That’s good,” I mutter. “What time, and where?”

“Finnegan’s Bar, and the address is on the card as well,” he says, slightly amused as I glance down at the information. “Six o’clock should work, and it’ll be a decent trial by fire. Remember what I said about looking older, kid.”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling overwhelmed and extremely grateful. “This is amazing, thank you.”

Grabbing my things, I wave as I walk out of the cafe. I know he’ll finish locking up and leave out the back door. He lives above the coffee shop in an apartment. It’s close enough for me to be able to make it here after school, without my legs falling off or having to catch a bus.

Ten and a half city blocks is a piece of cake, or it would be if it wasn’t pitch black outside. Thank God for streetlights. I don’t dawdle, I pay attention to my surroundings, and slip into my apartment safely.

Turning on a light, because I forgot earlier, I stifle a scream. Mom’s eyes are open again, staring blankly at me.

“Oh fuck,” I whimper, locking the door behind me. Knowing I won’t be able to sleep in my room when it’s so close to her, I run to hers. Maybe being surrounded by her things and wearing her pajamas will help.

And perhaps I’ll be able to find some answers.

Two days later

“Look, kid, you can’t stay here,” a police officer grunts, blowing out a breath.

My luck finally ran out. I was coming home from my new job at the bar, only to find the door wide open and the apartment full of very official looking people.

“The apartment is paid up,” I say, breathing hard as tears threaten my view. “My mom paid it. I saw the receipt online!”

Just in case of this, I made sure to fact check what Mom did and didn’t pay as a last ditch effort to get my money back. Mr. Coons is snarling at me from against the wall, knowing exactly what I’m doing.

“If you’re going to kick me out without any other family, you should at the very least give me back the rent money,” I insist.

“Your name isn’t on the lease,” the landlord says callously. “The person I rented to has been dead for God only knows how long, and now she’s starting to smell! You’re illegally squatting, kid.”

No she doesn’t.I made sure the apartment is set to ice box mode. It’s as cold as I could possibly make it, and I don’t miss the shivers from the paramedics as they wheel my mom out of the apartment.

I don’t know how long they’ve been here, but it can’t be long if she’s still here.

“Minors can’t sign a lease,” I remind him stubbornly. “Otherwise, Mom would have put me on it. I’m sure there has to be some exception.”

I’m very close to begging, and the policeman looks annoyed. He’s a beta as well, appearing lean and strong, just doing his job. I don’t want to be a pain in the ass. I’m inherently a people pleaser typically.

It’s fucking hovering around thirty-nine degrees and I don’t want to figure out where to sleep at one in the morning. The shelters are closed, no one will rent out a hotel room to a minor, either. My options are limited, and I’m running out of time.

I made a hundred and twenty dollars tonight in tips while training. It’s not enough to get a new place.

God, all I needed was one more day, dammit.

“Kid, do I need to pull social services out of their beds to deal with you?” Officer Blake asks, making me flinch.

Mom told me never to go with those people. Bad things happen to kids there, and even though she didn’t go into detail, I don’t want to fall through the cracks and end up at an auction.

I’d rather fucking die, which is saying a lot for the state of things.

“I need to pack a bag,” I growl, glaring at the asshole with a uniform and a badge. He simply smirks, puffing out his chest. “And I want my money.”

Yes, your knotless cock is huge, I’m sure, for kicking a kid out onto the streets.I may be a virgin, but I understand biology. My mom taught me all about the birds and bees for omegas, betas, and alphas, so I wouldn’t be afraid of my body. Come to think of it, she started discussing this all with me two years ago.

Did she know she had polycystic kidney disease back then? I found the paperwork in her dresser drawer, shoved angrily as if she didn’t want to face it again. Why couldn’t she have just told me? I would have done anything to help save her.

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