Page 33 of Instant Bond

“You’re not working at that strip club anymore.” I kept my eyes forward, but I could see him turn to face me, from my peripherals.

“But this didn’t even happen there.”

“But you knew him from there. He found you because he knew you from there.”

“But… That doesn’t even make any sense,” he argued. “And anyway, I already told you I can’t. It’s too much money, and-”

“Serve me fucking drinks, then,” I snapped out. This day had been testing my nerves from the beginning, and now I felt like my frustration was boiling over inside me. “Clean my house. Do my laundry. Whatever you feel like you need to do toearnit, since you won’t just let me give it to you. For whatever fucking reason.”

“I don’t want to take your money, Karter. I told you that.”

His wounded tone dug into my ear like an icepick. Clenching my hand on the steering wheel until my knuckles went white, I inhaled a deep breath.

“I know you don’t, Cameron. But I can’t live with the idea that you’re putting yourself in danger. This is not negotiable. You’re not working another shift there.”

“But-”

“No,” I cut him off. “Figure out whatever you need to do to feel okay about it.”

He was quiet for a while, facing away from me, staring out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” I said, when the silence was too much. “But I don’t know why you insist on doing everything on your own. If you let me help you, everything would be so much easier.”

“Yeah, it would be easier. Until you decide you’re tired of supporting me and my kid and move on to something else, and then I’m screwed with no job.”

“Do you honestly think I could do that to you?”

“I don’t!” He said, finally turning to face me again. “I don’t think you would, but… You have to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t just have to worry about myself! I have Ty, and… And…” He shuddered, covering his face with his palms. Completely unmistakable sounds, whimpers and sniffles and sobs filled the empty space in my car, drenching me in absolute misery. Of course he was crying. After what he’d just gone through, I’d snapped at him. Wonderful alpha behavior.

Part of me wanted to slam on my brakes, but I thought the best thing would be just to get him home. We were barely two minutes away anyway.

“Please don’t cry.” I was more or less begging. I wasn’t used to dealing with anyone’s tears, particularly not anyone I had feelings for. And particularly not when the person I had feelings for was crying because of me. I deserved worse than death.

“I haven’t even told you what happened today,” he sobbed into his hands. “Please don’t be mad at me, I really just need you to help me.”

“I’ll do anything,” I promised. “I’ll help you with anything. Just stop crying.”

For once, he did not obey my command.

“Let’s just get inside and you can tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, I promise we’ll figure it out and everything will be fine,” I said, mostly because I didn’t know what else to say.

“O-okay,” he agreed, in a weak and watery voice. The sound of his tears were like a battering ram, crushing my bones to a fine paste.

I whipped into the closest spot I could find, and practically teleported to his side of the car, helping him out as gently asI could. He didn’t technically need assistance walking, but I felt like if I didn’t help him withsomething, I’d spontaneously combust.

As we approached his door, there was a piece of paper taped to it. Glancing around, I noted there were identical pieces of paper taped to the doors of his neighbors as well. I watched him peel it off and begin to read it. At first his eyes were skimming, but then they widened and began raking over the surface of the paper like he’d been served a death warrant.

“I give up. I really just give up.” There was a tone of absolute hopelessness in his voice that I’d never heard there before. He shoved the paper into my hands before turning around to unlock his door.

I wasn’t a lawyer versed in legal mumbo jumbo, but the message on the paper was straightforward. It was a notice to vacate the premises due to sale of the property. In simple terms, everyone in the building needed to be out within 30 days, and then the whole place was being demolished.

With a heavy sigh, I followed him in.

CAM

I COULD VERYeasily say it was the worst day I’d ever had, and by a wide margin at that. Teen pregnancy was nothing compared to being threatened with having my kid taken away, being assaulted at work, and kicked out of my home all in the span of a few hours. I wondered if there was a quantifiable method of measuring the worst day ever, and if I should try and submit my story to Guinness World Records.

Dropping my keys on the table, I sailed past it and collapsed on my couch. I didn’t have the energy to worry about what Karter would think as I pulled my blanket up and over my head. My eyes were still blurred with tears and sobs were racking my body, and I just didn’t want to think about anything or handle anything. But I didn’t have that luxury. And the whole social worker thing was kind of terrifying.

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