Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
ALISA
Sitting on the floor of the community room in the outreach center at Rise Up, I begin working through my task. Doc told me to stay busy, and I’m really wanting to do it around other people. If I can also help others, then that’s what I want to do.
This is my third visit here in the past two weeks. I take evening walks with my pack after dinner, and I’m still writing. I even started digging out the pond with Silas. It’s slow going, but we’ll have a place we can dip our feet in once it gets warmer.
I’ve noticed that I do best around routines, and that’s what I’m building toward ever since my talk with Cassidy.
Right now, I’m making care bags from waterproof fabric.
I met with a coordinator, and she gave me the template to make them.
Once I’m done, I’ll fill the bags from the tubs of items next to me.
I’ve never made anything before. It’s almost fun once I begin to get the hang of it.
I’ve started listening to music more, and I have a pair of earbuds looped over my ears to give me a beat as I make the bags.
The wiring from them is fed through with a crochet hook, helping my rhythm as I work.
The repetition is soothing, and I’m able to block out the rest of the world.
After this, I have my first appointment with my therapist. The hockey team is having a party of sorts tomorrow, and Troy asked the pack to go with him.
I think I need an idea of what to talk about.
I get tripped up with small talk. If I was a man, I’d be the dark and silent type and no one would fucking care if I spoke or not.
“Excuse me?”
Jolting out of my thoughts, I turn off my music and glance up.
“Are your parents around? I’m afraid I wasn’t told we’d have a minor volunteering and I need to know your paperwork is complete. Are you here through the high school?”
A rush of embarrassment floods my system and I gaze at her as I attempt to process her words. I know I’m wearing my hair in braids and I’m in my standard comfort clothing, but this is ridiculous.
“Mrs. Torres has my paperwork,” I say slowly, trying not to get upset. “I don’t need my parents’ permission because I’m not in high school.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” the woman continues, “we appreciate the help, but we need—”
“Erin! Can I speak to you for a second?” Mrs. Torres hisses at the woman from her office and I shake my head. Maybe she can sort her out.
“Paulina, we can’t have this girl camping out on the floor. Besides, did you tell her what needs to be in the bags? I don’t want to redo them tomorrow when I’m passing them out.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I sigh. Doc is working a clinic today at the shelter, while Troy is helping to decorate a playroom. I thought I’d be fine in this corner. “I can move if you’re doing group or something.”
Mrs. Torres told me they have people come in to discuss their experiences together.
She doesn’t know anything about me, but I told her it was nice people had a place to share things.
It’s not for me, but I didn’t say as much.
I know every thought I have doesn’t need to make its way out into the world.
Maybe Erin needs this lesson as well.
“Yes, but you’re so young, it’s easy to get confused. You’re not even paying attention while you listen to music. I’ve been watching you,” she complains.
“Every stitch is fine. You’re welcome to go over them yourself.”
“Erin, she’s not a child,” Mrs. Torres says, stepping out of her office while I glance at her with wide eyes. “All of her volunteer paperwork is filled out as well.”
“Well how old are you?” Erin asks, exasperated.
“Do you ask this of everyone volunteering?” I ask. I didn’t bother with makeup. I didn’t think it was necessary… “I’m twenty-five. Am I considered old enough to continue these?”
“Do you have identification?” she asks.
“I do not.” There are many reasons why I don’t, but the big one is I don’t really need one. I happily live at home with my alphas, I don’t drive, why is that necessary?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, making me sigh.
“Now you’ve gone and done it,” I mumble, yanking it out.
“Excuse me?” Erin asks, jaw dropping.
“Erin! Could you stop?” Mrs. Torres asks.
Glancing at the screen, I sigh as I see its Lyle. My energy has got to be a chaotic mess.
“Hi.”
“Why do you sound so…flat?” Lyle’s voice growls over the speaker and I close my eyes briefly. I can’t curl up into a ball and cry. I’m just going to stuff my emotions away until I can break somebody.
I’m getting increasingly frustrated. I didn’t think I’d make it to twenty-five years old, and it feels wrong that someone doesn’t believe me about my age. Why would I lie?
“There appears to be a problem with my lack of identification, Lyle. Can you…fix it for me?”
God, I sound like the child I’m being accused of being. Grinding my teeth, I gaze at the floor to ground myself.
“Mrs. Torres and I already discussed your lack of ID, and she didn’t have a problem with it.”
“You didn’t tell me that!” Erin says, exploding on the poor woman.
“She tried,” I reply. “No one likes a bully. Lyle called because he could feel how anxious I was getting. I am a bonded omega, and not a child. Can we be done now?”
“Before you say another word,” Lyle growls, “there are people in the building who will not hesitate to intervene if you choose to escalate this further.”
“Why doesn’t she have identification? The only people who don’t have it are people who are being trafficked and homeless people. You’re too well dressed to be either,” Erin says.
“Hmm. You think, huh?” I ask. “I’m going to let the adultier adult take this one for me. I’ve already run out of patience with you.”
“I appreciate that you think I’m capable of being the bigger person when it comes to you,” Lyle snorts. “Where are you? I’m texting Troy to come find you.”
Why can’t I just do things like a normal person?
“I’m in the community room of the outreach center, Alpha,” I grumble.
Erin blinks at me as I glance up, and I give her my most annoyed look.
“As for whether or not I know where everything goes, I do.” The bags are an opaque material, but they are color coordinated for alphas, beta, and omegas.
A little tag hanging off the corner tells the person handing them out if it’s for a female or male.
Unfortunately, there aren’t bags for children, but hopefully there can be something made soon.
Survival can’t always allow for soft things like toys.
“Alpha and beta female bags receive sanitary napkins, Omega bags receive slick dampening underwear, and all bags get water purification tablets. Water bottles also all go into the bags as well as small packets of pain medication. There’s more, but your mouth is already hanging open and I’m afraid you’re going to catch flies. ”
“Thank you, Alisa,” Mrs. Torres says. “You’re good to continue. I’m so sorry about this. There’s not a group coming in, you’re free to use the community room. Erin, come with me.”
“How was I supposed to know?” she asks, following her.
“I’m good, Lyle. I was kind of panicking,” I confess.
“I felt it, and Silas texted me to save you. You’re doing great. I’m still going to have Troy come check on you.”
“He’s probably busy. Maybe he can come by when he’s finished?” I ask.
“How about we let him decide that, huh?”
“Okay. I love you. Thank you for calling.”
“Anytime. Now, ah, I should probably get back to the courtroom before I end up in contempt.”
Shit! The phone disconnects before I can say anything and I groan.
Touché, sir.
Turning on my music again, I focus on hitting my stride again.
Losing myself to the stitching, I make sixty bags and then fill them all.
Placing them in a bin, I pull more materials out and put them in front of me.
Shoes appear in front of me and I look up, up, up, straining my neck until I see Troy’s face.
His lips twitch as he understands my issue and drops into a squat in front of me. He taps his ear to remind me my earbuds are in and I touch them in kind to turn the music off.
“Hi,” I say tiredly. My brain is full of lists from filling the bags, but I’m not sure how much more I can do before crashing. The repetition has a way of exhausting you.
“How are you doing? You sound tired, beautiful.”
“I’m good now that I’m in my little bubble to do things. I’m beginning to think I need to wear a t-shirt that says ‘caution, not friendly.’”
“Or maybe, ‘does not work well under your bullshit?’” Troy asks, grinning.
“I like that one. Did Lyle ask you to check on me?” I ask.
“He did, but I’m about done. Can I help you now? It appears you’re about to begin a new batch. Unless you need me to get fucked?”
“No, you I like,” I promise.
“Rude!” Erin calls out as she leaves.
“It’s not rude if it’s true,” Troy winks. “Put me to work, baby. I will follow all of your instructions, I promise.”
“You’re so cute,” I say with a sigh. “I love you so much.”
My mouth is running off with me and I blush as Troy gives me the sexiest slow smiles I’ve ever seen.
“Do you now?” he drawls, making himself a path as he crawls toward me. There is nothing sexier than an alpha as he gazes at you with hearts in his eyes.
“Very much.”
“Good, because I love you too.”
Licking my lips, he kisses me softly, until my fingers tangle in his hair.
“You need a haircut,” I whisper. “We’ll be sharing hair ties otherwise.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby. I love when you wear my clothes.”
A clearing of a throat has Troy and I looking in that direction, and Mrs. Torres smirks at us.
“I promise we’re working,” Troy says. “I mean, we will be.”
“You’re fine,” she chuckles. “I wanted to apologize for Erin.”
“Ugh.”
Troy smirks as he pulls away and I blush harder because I didn’t mean to say that.
“What I mean is, you’re not responsible for the actions of other people. I didn’t know how to respond when she began interrogating me.”