Chapter Two
Seattle is kicking my ass. Hard. I’ve only been here four days, and I’m already out of options. The worst part is that I’m just stuck. I couldn’t even buy a Greyhound ticket back to Utah if I wanted to, and I can’t call anyone for help.
It’s been a brutal week. Two of the four nights I’ve spent sleeping in this alley, it poured rain.
Even tucked under the overhang, I woke up soaked to the bone, shivering so hard my teeth clacked together.
Finding a job? A joke. Turns out you need an actual address to fill out an application, which I don’t have.
After the second night of waking up in a puddle, I figured I’d try a homeless shelter.
Big mistake. The place was packed, loud, and smelled like stale sweat.
Within five minutes I almost got stabbed near the administration office over a spot in line.
The guy pulled a knife, and I just bolted.
So, back to the alley it was. On day three, I found a public restroom near the piers to wash off in the sink, but splashing cold water on my neck doesn’t really make me feel clean.
Then, to make everything infinitely worse, some asshole stole my backpack yesterday.
I was asleep, curled up and trying to ignore the rumbling in my stomach, and I guess I rolled over.
Woke up, and my bag was gone. All my clean clothes, my toothbrush, and the warm fleece blanket that nice blonde guy gave me on my first night—gone.
Now I’m down to the clothes on my back: a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans that have seen way too much dirt.
Last night I had to sleep curled up in the fetal position just to keep from freezing.
It’s July, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die of pneumonia anyway.
My only stroke of luck is that I keep my wallet in my front pocket.
Not that it matters much. I’ve got maybe two bucks left.
Not enough for a decent burger, let alone a way out of here.
I’ve been surviving on generic gas station saltines and tap water, and my stomach is doing backflips trying to digest it all.
I’m sitting on my sad, damp little piece of cardboard, feeling dangerously close to crying as I watch people walk by on the sidewalk.
It’s Friday afternoon. Everyone’s bustling around in nice clothes, laughing, heading back to their offices after lunch or taking off for the weekend.
I’m exhausted, sore, smelling like a dumpster, and out of time.
What’s the move here? Do I find an empty coffee can and start begging tourists for quarters?
Grab a stick and some string and try to fish my dinner out of Puget Sound?
A group of guys in suits spill out of the side door of the restaurant next to me. They’re laughing, fired up from the lunch they just had. One of them breaks away from the pack and heads down the alley, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
I blink, squinting against the glare of the overcast sky. It’s him. The blonde guy from my first night.
He stops when he sees me. A bright smile lights up his face in recognition. He’s holding a lighter, but he doesn’t spark it.
“Hey, it’s you again,” he says, stepping closer. But his smile fades fast as he gets a good look at me. I know I look like shit. My hair’s greasy, my clothes are wrinkled and stained, and I’m probably sporting dark circles under my eyes that make me look like a raccoon.
His brows pull together. “You alright, kid?”
I shrug, staring down at my dirty sneakers. I’m terrified my voice will crack if I speak.
He tilts his head, looking around the empty space near my piece of cardboard. “Where’d your bag go?”
I let out a harsh, self-deprecating breath. He keeps staring at me, waiting for an answer, so I finally rub the back of my neck and mumble, “Someone stole it.”
His expression shifts to deep concern. He looks up and down the alley like the thief might still be lurking nearby. “You’ve been sleeping out here like this? Without anything else? Have you tried going to a shelter?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, leaning my head back against the brick wall. “Tried that. Wasn’t much better. Honestly, I think the alley’s safer.”
He quiets for a second, watching me. He steps closer, his shoes crunching on a bit of loose gravel. “I’m sorry. Is there anyone you can call? Or somewhere I could help you go?”
I manage a small, tired smile. “Thanks, but no.”
He doesn’t back off. He crosses his arms, the fabric of his suit stretching over his shoulders. He looks like a guy who fixes things for a living, and I guess I’m the broken thing of the day.
“Look,” I tell him, running a hand over my face.
I’m so exhausted the words just spill out.
“I’m from Utah. I’m basically banished. That backpack was everything I had.
This whole trip was my stupid attempt at rebellion, I guess.
Now I’ve got two dollars to my name. At this point, I’m probably going to have to resort to some sketchy method of scrounging up a few bucks so I can buy a bus ticket and go home with my tail between my legs.
” I gesture vaguely at the brick walls boxing me in.
“I’m out of options. There’s nowhere to stay, nowhere to work, and I’m broke. I might as well give up.”
The blonde guy watches me carefully. I figure he’s going to toss me a five-dollar bill, tell me good luck, and go back to his cushy corporate life.
Instead, he surprises the hell out of me. He lowers himself down and sits on the dirty cardboard next to me. In his expensive suit. He doesn’t even flinch at the grime. The scent of his cologne washes over me, a crazy contrast to the garbage bins a few feet away.
He reaches out a hand. “I’m Ash.”
I stare at his hand for a second before shaking it. His grip is firm and warm. “Jaxon. But you can call me Jax.”
“Nice to meet you, Jax,” Ash says, resting his arms on his knees. “How old are you?”
I hesitate. Being out on the streets makes you paranoid, but I don’t get any creepy vibes from Ash. He just seems … nice. “Twenty-two.”
He nods slowly. “Old enough to be on your own. But why did you want to leave home so bad?”
I blow out a long breath, staring out toward the sliver of waterfront visible at the end of the alley.
“My parents are strictly religious. Mormon. They had this whole rigid expectation for my life. Go to the approved school, marry a girl from the church by the time I’m twenty-one, live the same life they lived.
I felt like I was being herded down a chute, and none of it was what I actually wanted.
” I pick at my jeans. “I don’t believe the same things they do.
I just wanted to make my own way. But … maybe they weren’t wrong and I’m just an idiot.
Because I clearly don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
Honestly, I might catch some virus from sleeping on the street and die out here before I even figure out what I want in life. ”
Ash listens quietly. When I finish venting, he sits there for a minute, considering something.
He turns his head to look at me. “Look, maybe it’s none of my business.
But you’re clearly struggling, and I feel for you.
” He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip for a second.
“I share a pretty big place with my roommates. I know you don’t know me, but we have plenty of space.
If you’d like, you could probably stay there for a little bit.
Just to get your feet under you. Get clean, start figuring things out. ”
I blink at him, convinced I misheard. “Are you serious?”
Ash offers an easy, welcoming smile. “Yeah, of course.”
Even though I’m sheltered and na?ve, I know better than to blindly accept an offer like that from a stranger. My alarm bells give a weak little ring. “Why?”
He shrugs casually. “I sympathize with you. I want to help. I worry about someone so young and unprepared out here on their own. There’s no pressure, Jax. I’m just offering you a safe, warm place to rest and a chance to find your own way.”
I bite my lip, torn. I know I should be more cautious. I should tell him thanks but no thanks and figure it out on my own. But the offer is just too good to refuse. A real bed. A shower. Safety. Food. I’m so desperate my stomach aches with the thought of it.
Ash must see the war going on in my head. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a sleek, matte business card, handing it to me.
“Here,” he says softly. “In case you need some reassurance that I’m not a weirdo. I have identification, if you want to see that too.”
I take the card. The name Ashley Wennberg is printed in clean lettering, followed by a fancy corporate law firm logo.
He’s a lawyer. A corporate lawyer. That actually does help quiet the panic in my chest. He’s a professional.
He’s got a career, a reputation, something to lose.
He’s unlikely to try and harvest my organs in a bathtub.
I trace my thumb over the raised lettering on the card, weighing my options.
On one hand, I could stay in this alley, freeze tonight, and probably end up begging for a ride back to the suffocating life I just ran away from.
On the other hand, I can take a chance on a guy who gave a stranger a blanket when he saw that I was cold, and who doesn’t mind ruining his suit pants on my nasty cardboard bed.
It’s a lifeline I desperately need.
I look up from the card, meeting Ash’s eyes. I swallow the last of my pride.
“Okay,” I say tentatively. “Yeah. If you mean it … I’ll take you up on that. Thank you. Seriously.”
Ash smiles wide and pushes to his feet in one smooth move, offering me his hand to pull me up. “I mean it. Come on, let’s get you outta this alley.”