Chapter 1
Insurance
Mads
I set myself up in the middle of the café with my journal and my phone, and my chai tea latte.
I flip through my entries from this last year, seeing the scribble that has been my life.
How hopeful I was when I first met Nancy.
How she lit a fire inside of me. And then how it burned me up from the inside out.
Her two alphas, Case and Morris Dougherty, did not know about me, and when they found out, they were not ok with me sleeping with their omega.
I guess omegas aren’t supposed to be collecting beta boyfriends.
I’m a beta, what about 80% of the population’s designation is.
The rest are alphas, and an even smaller percentage are omegas.
Omegas are often women, and only an omega can give birth to an alpha.
They travel in packs, for reasons I don’t understand.
Maybe because there are so few omegas? So they have to double up, triple up, to all get a chance to be with an omega—who’s to say?
I never bothered them. I guess until I thought it would be ok to take Nancy out on a date.
I’d been warned about alphas, but I ignored the warnings. What was the worst they could do? I’m a man. They are men, at the end of the day. I didn’t fear them. But I definitely do now.
Nancy approached me while I was flying my drone at the park by the river. She was so interesting and real. She was a flame and I was a moth.
I asked her out immediately. Her alphas knew about us, or so I thought. She mentioned she had two of them, brothers, and she hated them. I didn’t ask questions. Honestly, I didn’t even know how to ask to not offend her.
She and I went out several times over the course of a month.
I took her back to my apartment, told my roommate to get lost, and we slept together.
I figured if she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping with other people, then she wouldn’t have launched herself at me as soon as we walked through the door. Right?
These alphas, the brothers she supposedly hated, ran me over with their car. They beat me, shattering my femur. I was in a coma for two months and in the hospital for six months.
Now, I have to walk with a cane.
I’m in constant pain.
Nothing is the same.
There’s Mads before the accident—hilarious jokester always looking for a good time, and Mads now—recluse and forlorn jackass no one can stand to be around.
I can’t even be in public long. I start to get anxious that I might see an alpha. Or have to interact with one. It sends me into a complete tailspin.
The medical bills started coming in before I even woke from my coma.
All my savings were eaten away those first six months.
I moved in with my mom, and I needed a medical bed and medication, and all this goddamned equipment.
The insurance only covered a fraction of the cost. My mom works two jobs to try to pay for everything and keep us afloat.
But today everything changes.
My settlement against the Dougherty pack is dispersing soon. My lawyer texted and asked for a call today.
It should be enough to pay the rest of my medical bills. Buy me a normal cane and not this shit one I got from the hospital (that I’m still making payments on). And pay my mom back for all the living expenses.
My old boss is calling me at 1:00 pm to talk about starting back again.
I’m going to get my life back.
My lawyer’s number shows up on my phone, and I answer straight away. A smile I haven’t felt in forever stretches across my face.
“Matthew, give me the good news,” I say.
“I mean, it’s good news for sure. The $250,000 is being dispersed today.”
“Oh god,” I breathe.
I wanted more, but this is totally fine.
I've had a while to determine what I would do with this. It’s not enough to pay back my expenses, but I start work again soon.
This will help me get back on my feet. I need this money.
It’s the only thing I have been looking forward to for months.
My entire life has been on hold until this is finalized.
“Yes, not bad,” Matthew says in a tone that doesn’t sit right with me. Before I can say anything about it, he goes on, “So, my payment will come first, and then the insurance company will take theirs. If there’s any left, it will be sent to you by the end of the week.”
I grab my thigh as it flares up in a strong ache.
I can’t safely describe the pain in my body.
It feels like there’s someone sawing down through my bone.
An invisible demonic being with manic energy, just ripping and tearing my muscles, and bowing and bending my bone in an unnatural way.
It feels like the world got moved into the background, and this pain is all foreground.
Sometimes I can focus past the pain, to the background. Other times, like now, I can’t.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” I say between my teeth, holding back my reaction to the ache. I don’t want to take more of my meds. The ones I took this morning should be good for another hour.
“Yeah, so, in this case, your settlement will be used to pay back the insurance company for what they covered on your medical costs.”
My voice is harsh as I raise it to say, “I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been paying my medical expenses.”
“Right,” Matthew says in his lawyer voice, no longer using his friendly voice. “You’ve been paying what they haven’t covered. Your settlement is going to be used to pay back what the insurance covered.”
“You keep using the words ‘pay back’. Don’t I get ‘paid back’ for what I’ve been covering?”
“Look, it’s not great, but this happens. Do you know how much they’ve covered this year?”
My leg flares up so bad I think I’m going to pass out.
“Matthew, I’ve paid nearly $60,000 in bills! I think it’s upwards of $300,000 that insurance covered! Are you saying all of my settlement is going to the insurance company?”
“Well, no. I’ll be taking $10,000 before it goes to them.”
I hang up the phone, grab my leg with both hands, and try really hard not to scream.
A sound comes out, but it’s muffled by my clenched jaw.
The pain is so intense. It always feels like a version of the pain I felt in the hospital, when my body was bloated from the saline, and the drugs were wearing off.
But out here, there’s no button to press.
There’s only the pain and the big wide world around me.
I toss my journal in my backpack, throw away my $7 coffee, and limp out of the café with any dignity I may have left while leaning all my weight on my fucking cane.
But really, I hope I get hit by a bus on my way home and die this time.
I’m joking.
Mostly.
I get to the apartment and I sit at the bottom of the stairs.
My mom and I are on the second level. They look like rooms at a motel, all looking out over the parking lot.
The stairs are metal and janky. We still can barely afford this place.
I stretch out my leg as it involuntarily shakes, and I try not to pass out.
I’ll breathe through it. I’ll get through it.
I try square breaths, and when that doesn’t work, I do triangle breaths.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I’d been relying on the settlement. And it’s gone. There’s nothing left. The fucking insurance and lawyer bled me dry.
Pack Dougherty wasn’t wealthy, so my lawyer talked me into a realistic amount. $250,000 sounded good at the time. I didn’t know there were sharks in the water.
My phone rings an alarm since it’s time for my call with my old boss. I hop on Zoom on my phone, and when the screen shows my face on camera—I look like shit.
My usual light brown hair looks dull and stringy.
I haven’t been able to see a barber. I’ve just had my mom cut it when it gets over my ears.
My face is ashen white. I haven’t spent any time in the sun.
The lines between my eyebrows are deep, probably from holding in the pain.
My lips are tight and smaller than usual.
I should have shaved. It’s been a few days.
I often find myself staring at myself in a mirror or in pictures, since my body has changed so much, it’s like I need to memorize it again and tell myself that’s me in the mirror.
I’m six foot even, but I don’t hold myself up straight anymore, and I found people don’t refer to me as “tall” like they used to.
I don’t wear anything stylish, or risky.
Like today, I am in some dark gray chino pants and a pale gray, lightweight sweater with the sleeves pushed up.
I’m wearing some new sneakers my mom got for me at the shoe store she works at.
I told her I needed something practical, something that will take a lot of wear on them since I walk to more places than I choose to take a car.
“Mads!” My boss says, hoping to see the old Mads. The smiling, full of life guy. I try to find him and bring him out, but it’s not happening.
“Luke, how’re you?”
“So good! So good! Are you outside on some stairs?”
“Yeah, I needed some air,” I lie.
I used to never lie.
“Great, ok, well, good news, we can keep you on a zero dollar payroll for another month so you can stay on the insurance.”
“What?” I don’t hide my surprise.
“Yeah! One more month. It’ll give you enough time, I think, to find something.”
“No, Luke, I want to come back. I’m ready. I thought that’s what we were discussing.”
“Oh, I apologize that there was a misunderstanding of our call today. We’ve backfilled your role, and I don’t have the budget for two of you guys. Plus, it’s probably not a great fit. You’d have to come in every day. There’s a minimum physical requirement. It’s not very accessible.”
I tune him out. They aren’t going to let me come back. They never were.
I turn and throw up off the edge of the stairs. The camera picks up everything.
“Fuck, are you ok? Oh my god.”
I end the call and lie back. Vomit on my chin. My leg is outstretched and shaking.
My only thoughts are how my vomit tastes like chai tea latte, and I’ll never be able to have another one as long as I live. Which, at this rate, will not be much longer.