12
Elijah
The streets emptied at night. Elijah watched as traffic thinned and pedestrians grew scarce. The month he’d spent homeless at sixteen before Baylor took him in returned to him in those moments. Squatting in old buildings and seeking shelter beneath awnings while the rest of the world cast a blind had led to lonely moments unlike any Elijah had known.
It seemed fitting that in his new state of loneliness, he should be homeless again.
After the first three hours, when he’d cooled off and assessed the situation for what it was, Elijah considered returning to Stonecrest. Greyson and Aiden and Jay had to be worried about him. It wasn’t as though they were close, but as roommates, Elijah had come to respect them and care for them. He assumed they felt similarly.
Going back would mean running into Silas again. Elijah clenched his teeth. No amount of respect for his roommates would make him go back if it meant he had to talk to that low-life again. What the hell was the rehabilitation center thinking, hiring an alpha? No alpha wanted to help omegas. All Silas had done was use him and manipulate him before throwing him away.
It was better that Elijah was on the streets than back in that prison being brainwashed. Out here, he understood what would happen to him. The only person in control of his destiny was himself, just like it should have been. He didn’t need help.
Whether he was left alone, or whether an alpha plucked him off the streets to share his bed, Elijah didn’t care. The way forward was clear. The only claim he had to his identity was his word—Baylor had taken his ID when he’d entered The White Lotus, and Elijah assumed it had been destroyed. Without an education or a legitimate way to prove who he was, Elijah had few other options.
If he had to go back to prostitution, he would. He knew exactly what to expect. As long as he found a reputable place of business, he wouldn’t have to worry about pregnancy. At least, any future pregnancy. The baby he was already carrying—what would become of it?
As the sun set and the night dragged on, Elijah found a quiet street on the outskirts of the downtown district and turned down a tiny ally between two businesses. On the far side of one of the dumpsters, away from the public eye, he pressed his back against the wall and slid down until he sat.
He was hungry. After the incident at the restaurant, he’d skipped lunch, and he’d been too busy in bed with Silas all afternoon to think of eating anything. Now what?
Frowning, he ran his hands slowly over his stomach and imagined the little bundle of cells inside of him that was developing into life. Prostitution was fine, but he’d never had to worry about anyone else before. There was no question that he was going to keep the baby, but what then? Would it grow up in a whore house, birthed in secret and unknown by the government? That was no life. Even Elijah’s life had been better than that, and he’d spent his late teenage years exchanging sex for security.
“Just you and me now, baby,” he muttered into the dark. “Gonna figure out how to make things right by you.”
The rumbling of his stomach wasn’t the response Elijah anticipated, but it was the one he got. He grinned and covered his face with his hands. It was going to be a long night. With any luck, it would lead to a better tomorrow.
* * *
It had beenyears since Elijah had the liberty to wander the streets. The city was as strange to him as it had been when he was a child living in the suburbs, and Elijah had no idea where he was going. It was by coincidence alone that he happened across a soup kitchen opening its doors for the breakfast rush. A long line of impoverished individuals entered in a slow, orderly fashion.
Elijah watched them, glanced at the establishment, then took a small step back. He’d never visited a soup kitchen before. What kind of validation did they need from him to prove that he was homeless? Would they even let him in? He’d showered yesterday at Silas’ place, and his clothes weren’t dirty yet. Elijah didn’t want them to think he was freeloading.
“Hey,” a woman called to him from the doors. In her hand was a wooden spoon, discolored by years of use. “You coming in, hon? We’ve got room for everyone.”
Elijah looked up and down the street, then crossed his arms over his chest and took a small step forward. The smell of fresh bread and coffee enticed him. At almost twenty-four hours since his last meal, it didn’t take much to convince Elijah to come in.
“There you go,” the woman said. She patted him on the back as he passed. “We’ll serve you up something hot. What do you say?”
“Thank you,” Elijah replied.
The woman laughed. It was deep and hearty and contagious, and Elijah had to focus to keep the smile off his face. “You’re welcome, hon. Make yourself at home.”
The soup kitchen was impressive. Elijah eyed it before he joined the others, getting a sense for how things worked. There was a buffet with hot plates over which hung a sign with a message to the soup kitchen’s guests.
Be Excellent To Each Other.
We’re all in this together.
As long as Silas didn’t plan on showing up for breakfast service, Elijah was sure that wouldn’t be a problem.
There was a sitting area not far from the buffet where guests settled once they got their meals. Staff buzzed around, but interfered very little. Most of them were focused on putting hot trays into the buffet or making sure the coffee percolators were running correctly. Once the initial rush was over, Elijah guessed that the job was a lot more relaxed.
He took his place in line and made his way around the small buffet, eager for toast with butter and scrambled eggs. By the time he was finished serving himself, the place was packed. Some members of staff moved out additional tables from a storage space in order to accommodate the crowds.
Silas was amongst them.
Elijah froze. For a long moment, he watched Silas carry a table with another man, then set it down and dust his hands. There was no doubt that itwasSilas, but he wasn’t dressed right, nor did his body look like Elijah remembered. Instead of the stuffy button-down shirts and ties Silas was so fond of wearing, he wore a fitted sweater. Instead of professional slacks, he wore jeans. The muscles of his arms were corded, and although Elijah had seen first hand that Silas was muscular despite being narrow, it looked like he’d bulked up a little overnight.
