Chapter 2Jules
CHAPTER
TWO
JULES
The stew and bread only lasted so long. My stomach is in knots—devoid of food but full of uneasy bees as I pace behind Strange Brew instead of out front. Every time I attempt to knock on the employee entrance, I hesitate.
He said if I was hungry I could come back, but I don’t want to take advantage of his kindness. Even worse, what if his offer to feed me isn’t just kindness this time? He’s an alpha and a predator. The offer of a free meal could be a lure, a clever way to get me alone.
How much longer can I go without food—a decent meal, not something cold and half-eaten that I fish out of a garbage can when no one is looking? I’m not a thief or a bad person. The thought of breaking the law just to survive has me in a nervous sweat, but how much longer can I live like this?
If I don’t want to resort to doing something that will land me in even more trouble than I’m already in, I have to take a chance. Maybe he really is a nice guy who just wants to help.
I swing back to the door, determined to knock this time and ask for something to eat. I’ll be happy with a grilled cheese, or a tomato sandwich. Maybe I’ll be okay with letting Gavin touch me in exchange. I don’t know if I’ll like it but I can endure it.
Just as I raise my hand, the mean kid who shoved past me on his way into Strange Brew yesterday crashes into the kitchen. I duck away from the door; the last thing I want is for him to notice me. He’s young, angry, and a predator on top of being an alpha. It’s a dangerous and volatile mix. A toxic combination I want no part of.
The young man stomps around the kitchen. I try to make myself smaller.
Maybe it’s better to leave. One more night without food won’t kill me. It’ll suck, but I’ll survive. I can come back tomorrow, not spend so long hesitating, and avoid the angry kid altogether.
“Enough, Callum.” Gavin’s voice carries through the door. “We can either talk about it now and get it over with, or we can do it tonight at home, but we’re going to talk about whatever—” there’s a momentary pause “—this is. So which is it—now or later?”
I should go—this isn’t a conversation I’m supposed to hear—but I’m rooted to the spot. What if they catch me as I’m sneaking away?
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Callum snaps.
“Tough shit. Sit down. Start yapping.” The command in Gavin’s voice makes me want to sit down and do as he says even though he’s not talking to me.
“Silo’s stepfather won’t let him take heat suppressors for religious reasons, but he’s... you know.” I peek through the window, just for a moment, to see what’s happening.
Callum’s head is bowed, and he’s hiding behind his hands.
Silo’s stepfather sounds like an asshole. Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is for an omega of any age to be left so vulnerable? More so for a young one, who might not be ready for the responsibility that can very easily be forced upon them by an alpha who doesn’t care about age.
Even my parents, as strict as they were, allowed me to take heat suppressors until I was considered an adult by the community.
“Callum—” Gavin’s tone is much softer now that Callum has spat out the truth.
Callum stands and paces. “I can’t take much more of it. It’s driving me insane. He smells so good.” Callum pulls at his hair. He’s young and lost, and although he was rude yesterday, my heart goes out to him. “I almost grabbed him today, and then what?” His voice quivers with fear. I can’t blame him. It’s probably scary for Silo too. “What if I—I’m not that kind of person!”
“Callum.” Gavin clamps down on Callum’s shoulders, holding him in place. “Go home. Take a shower. Play some video games. I’ll talk to Thane.”
“Okay.” Callum’s shoulders fall and he exhales. “Okay. You’ll tell me what he says?”
“I’ll tell you.” Gavin releases him. “Straight home. Do your homework.”
“I don’t have any.” Callum turns towards the door.
I stand and stumble away from it. Fuck. Fuck.
Why didn’t I leave when I had the chance? Now—I’m yanked to a stop when the back of my collar is grabbed. “Were you eavesdropping? Getting a kick out of shit that’s not your business?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It isn’t like that. I just want something to eat.
I curl in on myself. His anger is sharp and overpowering. It makes my stomach turn.
“Let him go, Callum.” Gavin’s voice is as sharp as Callum’s anger. “Go home. Now.”
Callum shoves me into the brick wall. I slam against it and collapse to the ground, tucking my knees into my chest and curling my arms around my head. Maybe if I lay still and don’t make a sound, they’ll go away and I’ll never come back. I’ll pick a direction and just keep walking until I find a new town or drop dead of starvation.
A warm hand lands on my shoulder, and I pull away. “Please. Please.”
Just leave me alone.
“Easy. It’s just me. Let’s get you off the ground.” Gavin wraps a gentle palm around my bicep and pulls me to my feet.
“I’m sorry.” I step away. “I wasn’t trying to listen. I just... I’m sorry.”
“Easy.” He holds up his hands. “I know that. So does Callum. He’s not a bad kid, I promise. Things are just...” The corner of his mouth tips up. “I guess you heard. Why don’t you come in and I’ll make you something to eat.”
He steps away and holds the back door open. It’s my choice. I can follow him and maybe get something to eat, or I can starve. In the end, my empty stomach decides for me; I slip through the back door. It shuts behind me with a soft click.
The kitchen is what I’d expect to find in a diner—flat top grill, industrial oven, several metal workspaces, and a large walk-in fridge.
“Any allergies or food preferences?” Gavin asks as he washes his hands.
I rub my dirty palms down my thighs. “N-No.”
“That makes this easy.” He grins over his shoulder as he reaches for paper towels to dry his hands. “Why don’t you wash up and I’ll throw something on the grill.”
“You don’t have to go to that much trouble. I’m fine with anything.” I wrap my arms around my waist and bow my head. It’s embarrassing—being here, asking for a handout.
“It’s no trouble, Jules.” The way my name rolls off his tongue has a shiver racing up my spine. “I feed dozens of people a day. One more isn’t going to hurt.”
This is different. I can’t pay like they do.
“I really can’t thank you enough,” I mutter as I head to the sink.
“Once is enough.”
My cheeks burn. “Right. Thank you.”
His laugh is soft but not mocking as he turns to the grill.
I wash my hands.