Page 76 of Knot Her Mountain Men

“If you tell me to leave, I will, but I would like to stay.” He gave me his patented puppy eyes. He didn’t pull them out very often, which only made them more effective when they made an appearance.

“Okay, fine. It’ll be nice to catch up when neither of us is on the brink of death.”

Unfortunately it also prevented me from getting one last sexual hurrah. I wasn’t going to fuck anyone in my nest with my brother and his pack in the house. I had grown far too used to being touched in my time at the lodge, and even now the moments between having Bear’s arm around my waist and disappearing into the fitting room were too long.

That didn’t bode well for going to work. Logistically I knew most omegas took omega leave to accommodate for the shift in needs after a fresh bond and recovering from a heat, but my new job would never keep me if I tried that. I was already toeing the line after missing my start date and not contacting them.

I grabbed a couple of sweaters I didn’t particularly care about and marched back to the fitting room, pulling out my phone on the way. I looked up the number, deciding it would be better to leave a message and wait to hear back.

It went straight to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Morgan Harris. I was supposed to start last week but I got snowed in and lost access to all my communication options. I know it’s probably a long shot considering I missed my first week of work, but I was hoping with the circumstances you might consider still keeping me. Thank you so much, and I look forward to hearing from you.”

I hated office speak. I understood the need for professionalism, but it felt inauthentic to me. Dragging on each sweater in turn, I gave myself a quick spin in front of the mirrors and checked the mobility, raising my arms overhead before deciding they were good enough. I had what I needed to get by until I could access my regular wardrobe.

That was another thing to add to the to-do list. I was emotionally and physically depleted on a level I hadn’t experienced in a long while, and just wanted to go back to the lodge. I should call the police station, too, now that I had a phone. Did I have to make an appointment to file a report? A little whimper escaped. I was half tempted to curl up in the fitting room for a power nap.

Bear was waiting patiently outside for me and blessedly got his arm back around my waist, soothing the anxiety that had swelled during my brief phone call. I allowed myself the luxury of leaning against him and snuggled close while the cashier rang through the purchases.

“Ready to go home?” Bear whispered in my ear.

“Please.”

Cooper’s phone rang and he frowned at the screen. “Who is Bunworth Properties?”

“My landlord from my old apartment. Why are they calling you?”

“Beats the hell out of me.” Cooper hit the green button to answer. “Hello? Yes, this is he. I’m sorry, what? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“What’s happening?”

“She’s right here.” Cooper passed the phone over.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Harris, we’ve been trying to get in contact with you for over a week. Your lease ended and you did not clear out your apartment. We’ve taken the liberty of doing so on your behalf and you’ll be receiving an invoice. If your belongings are not picked up within twenty-four hours, they will be donated or discarded depending on the nature of them.”

Hot and cold flashed through my body. “You went through all my stuff?”

“Like I said, we attempted to get into contact with you. This was supposed to already be done.”

“I was a little busy almost dying. I just got a new phone, like, an hour ago.”

The caller let out a huff. “Be that as it may, we cannot make exceptions for you.”

I sighed. I wanted to go back to the lodge and sleep, but apparently that was off the table. “Is everything still at the apartment?”

“No. It’s been moved to our warehouse.”

“How do you expect people to coordinate a move with this little notice?”

“We don’t. You had a move-out date and you missed it. We make allowances for three days to accommodate a heat, and beyond that, the cost is passed on to the renter who failed to meet their obligations.”

I stuffed down the urge to growl. Almost dying wasn’t a good enough excuse for them, so fuck me, I guess. “What’s the address of the warehouse?”

She rattled it off and I input it into my new phone. “You’ll need your ID and a copy of your lease agreement to claim your items.”

Shit. “I don’t have either of those. What part of almost dying are you not understanding? Everything I own is gone or held hostage.”

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