Chapter 16 #2
"Let her finish." Sergio's looking at me, his brown eyes soft despite the tension in his jaw.
I take another bite. Chew mechanically. The pancake is fluffy and sweet and perfect and I want to cry.
"The bank said it could take thirty days to unfreeze them." My voice sounds hollow. Far away. "Thirty days before I can access any of it. My money."
I set down my fork. Grip the edge of the table. The wood is smooth under my palms, worn soft by years of family meals.
"I have three dollars and forty-seven cents to my name. Total. That's everything I own in the world that he can't freeze or control or take away."
Silence.
Then Nacho: "The bank will unfreeze them. You just need to file a dispute, prove you didn't authorize—"
"I did authorize it. I signed the papers." I'm gripping the table so hard my knuckles are white. "That's the whole problem. I signed them. I gave him permission."
"Under false pretenses," Nacho argues. "That's fraud. We can—"
"In thirty days." My voice cracks. "Maybe. If they believe me. If Callum doesn't convince them I'm lying. If everything goes perfectly."
"I can't just live here for free for thirty days. Eating your food. Sleeping in your guest room. Wearing your clothes." I yank at Carlos's hoodie. The fabric is soft and worn and smells like him and I want to bury my face in it and never come out. "I need to contribute ..."
He's quiet for a moment. His fingers tap against the table - a rhythmic pattern like he's working through calculations in his head. Then his face splits into a grin that's equal parts mischief and something I can't quite name.
"Work for me."
I blink. "What?"
"My assistant quit last month. Moved to Phoenix to be with her boyfriend.
I've been doing everything myself since then, and frankly, it sucks.
" He leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head.
The movement makes his flannel pull tight across his chest. "It's mostly grunt work.
Carrying supplies. Holding things in place while I nail them.
Cleaning up job sites. Nothing complicated. "
"I don't know anything about carpentry." I grip the back of my chair, fingers digging into the wood.
"You don't need to. I know about carpentry. I just need someone to hand me the right tool when I ask for it and not drop things on my head."
"That seems like a low bar."
"You'd be surprised how many people can't clear it." His grin widens. Dimples appear. "Come on, Jess. It's outdoor work. Fresh air. Physical labor that'll make you so tired you can't overthink. And I pay cash. End of every day. No banks. No accounts. No Callum."
Cash.
Money he can't freeze. Can't control. Can't take away.
I move back to the table. Sit down slowly. Pick up my fork and cut another piece of pancake.
"How much?" My voice sounds steadier now.
"Twenty an hour. Time and a half for anything over eight hours. Lunch included."
I do the math in my head. Eight hours a day, five days a week. $800 a week. More than enough to cover my share of groceries and utilities and still have money left over to save.
My own money. Mine.
"Fine." I shove the pancake in my mouth. Chew. Swallow. It tastes better this time. "When do I start?"
"Soon as you finish breakfast." Carlos stands and stretches, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a strip of tanned stomach. Dark hair disappears into the waistband of his jeans. "I've got a deck to build in Maple Grove. Wear comfortable shoes and clothes you don't mind getting dirty."
He winks at me and saunters out of the kitchen.
I watch him go, fork suspended halfway to my mouth.
Sergio clears his throat. "You sure about this?"
"About what?"
"Working with Carlos. All day. Just the two of you." He's trying very hard to keep his expression neutral. Failing.
"Why?" I take another bite. The eggs are perfect - fluffy and cheesy and exactly how I like them even though I never told anyone how I like them. "You think I can't handle manual labor?"
"I think Carlos has been in love with you for six years and working alone with him every day is going to complicate things."
The fork clatters onto my plate.
Pedro makes a choking sound. Nacho's eyes go wide.
"Sergio," Pedro hisses. "We agreed—"
"We agreed to let her figure it out on her own time." Sergio stands, carries his plate to the sink. "But she's about to spend forty hours a week alone with him. She deserves a heads up."
I find my voice. It comes out higher than normal. "Carlos is not in love with me."
Sergio turns around. Leans against the sink. Crosses his arms over his chest. "Okay."
"He's not."
"If you say so."
"He kissed me once. Six years ago. That's not love. That's just... attraction. Chemistry. A moment."
"You're right." Sergio's expression doesn't change. "That's definitely all it was. The fact that he's been single for years, turned down approximately forty women who asked him out, and lights up like Christmas morning every time you walk in a room? Totally unrelated."
My mouth opens. Closes. No sound comes out.
"Have fun building the deck." Sergio dries his hands on a dish towel. "Try not to overthink it."
He walks out.
Nacho stands, grabs his hat from the counter. "I need to get to work. Jess, if you need help with the bank stuff, legal stuff, anything - I know people. Just say the word."
"Thank you."
He squeezes my shoulder as he passes. Then he's gone too.
Just me and Pedro.
He's still leaning against the counter, still clutching his mug like it's the only thing holding him together.
"You don't have to do this," he says finally. "Work for Carlos. We can help you. Loan you money until—"
"I'm not taking your money." I cut another piece of pancake. "I'm not a charity case."
"You're pack."
The word lands between us like a stone in still water.
"I'm Callum's ex-girlfriend who's crashing in your guest room because my apartment flooded. That's not the same thing."
Pedro's jaw tightens. He sets down his mug. Pushes off from the counter. Moves toward me with slow, deliberate steps.
He stops next to my chair. Close enough that I can smell his scent - pine and mint and something clean and medicinal that makes my omega want to roll over and show her throat.
"You fell asleep on Nacho's shoulder four years ago. Sergio made you snort-laugh. I patched up your hand in our kitchen. Carlos kissed you on that porch and couldn't eat for three days after you left."
He picks up my plate. Takes it to the sink even though I'm not done eating.
"You were Callum's girlfriend. But you were ours first."
Then he's gone too, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the scent of four alphas and a truth I'm not ready to face.
I sit there for a long time. Staring at the empty doorway. At the chair where Carlos was sitting. At the life I didn't plan for spreading out in front of me like a deck waiting to be built.
Finally, I stand up.
Walk to my room.
Find my old Converse at the bottom of my suitcase.
And go to work.
Because whatever else is true, whatever complicated feelings are tangling themselves around my heart, I need money.
Even if taking care of myself means spending forty hours a week with an alpha who might be in love with me.
I need money and that’s all that matters right now.