Beyond Broken (The Bay Boys #3) (31 page)

Caleb’s head snapped to the door when he thought he heard something downstairs in the garage.
 
After listening for a moment, he shook his head and returned to his work.
 
But then he heard the unmistakeable sound of an echoing cough and he slowly rose to his feet.
 
A door closed and Caleb wrenched open his own office door to peer down into the dark garage.

“Who the fuck is down there?” he called out, eyes scanning the shadowy corners and darkened outline of cars.
 
The light from his office illuminated very little, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
 
His footsteps echoed on the metal stairs as he descended, flipping on the overhead lights.
 
The fluorescents blared down unforgivingly, but no one was there.
 
All his employees had left long ago, as had Brian.

He checked the ground office door, but it was locked, as was the side door that led to the break area.
 
The garage door was latched firmly and Brian had locked everything up properly on his way out.
 
Caleb’s gaze drifted to the utility closet door, used mainly for storage, and walked over.

When he wrenched it open, he heard a whispered curse.
 
And as Caleb’s gaze adjusted to what he was seeing inside, dread filled him.

“Peter,” he started slowly, eyeing the teenager, who was currently sitting with his back against the wall of the closet.
 
A blanket and a backpack were tucked up against him amid all the other crap that his uncle had stuffed in there over the years.
 
Peter had cleared a narrow space, just big enough for him to lie down.
 
“What’s going on?”

He was afraid he already knew the answer to his question, judging by the fact that it looked like Peter had been squatting here for at least a few days, if not more.
 
How long had this been going on?
 
Did Brian know?
 
No, Caleb didn’t think so.
 
Brian wouldn’t have let the kid stay here at night.
 
It was nearing winter and the garage was cold.

The teenager was red in the face as he stared up at Caleb in horror.
 
He looked terrible.
 
His hair looked greasy, his clothes wrinkled, and a sheer sheen of sweat dotted his forehead.
 
Caleb frowned.
 
It looked like the kid was sick, not to mention dirty.
 
He racked his brain, trying to think back to the last time he’d seen Peter, or noticed him, but he couldn’t remember.

Fuck, he’d been moping around like a damn kicked puppy for too long.
 
His fists clenched.
 
He should’ve noticed
this
.

Peter didn’t say anything.
 
Caleb asked, “How long has this been going on for?”
 
A shrug and Peter looked down at his lap, where his sketchbook was sprawled out.
 
Caleb’s heart clenched at the sad sight and blew out a breath.
 
Softening his voice and crouching down so he wouldn’t loom over the boy, he said, “You should’ve come to me, Peter.
 
I didn’t know things were this bad.”

“I just…” Peter said, voice wavering.
 
He let out a wet sounding cough.
 
“I just can’t go home anymore.
 
I can’t.”

Caleb sighed, running a hand through his hair and peering around the space Peter had made for himself.
 
“You can’t stay here.”

“I k-know.”

“Are you sick?” Caleb asked, desperately wanting to call Maddie.
 
Peter had always liked her.
 
She’d know what to do in this situation.
 
She’d be able to comfort him more than he could.

A sniffle and a shrug.
 
Caleb reached out and felt the teenager’s forehead.
 
It was clammy and hot with fever.

Caleb closed his eyes, remembering exactly what it was like being alone as a teenager and not wanting to go home.
 
His mind was already made up.
 
He just hoped he was doing the right thing.

“Come on,” he said, standing and holding out a hand to help Peter up.
 
“You can stay with me.
 
At least until you figure out something else.”

Peter shuffled his feet and looked down, his backpack hanging limply in his hand, sketchbook hugged close.

“Go get the car warmed up, okay?” Caleb murmured softly, handing over his car keys after fishing them out of his pocket.
 
“I’ll be there in a second.”

He watched as the boy nodded and slowly made his way out the ground office door, his walk slow and sluggish.
 
Caleb made quick work of the office and shut everything down.
 
The car hadn’t even had a chance to warm up by the time he returned.

The drive to the house was silent.
 
Peter’s gaze was glued out the window, even when Caleb swung by the store to get him some medicine and food.
 
When they pulled up in the driveway, Peter peered at the house curiously, but didn’t say anything.
 
Caleb could tell that he was embarrassed, embarrassed that he found himself in this situation, embarrassed that he needed help at all.
 
Caleb understood.
 
No one liked to be pitied.
 
It didn’t change the fact that Peter needed help.

“Are you hungry?” Caleb asked once they got inside.
 
Peter stood in the entryway, unsure in an unfamiliar place.
 
He shook his head, darting a glance up at him before looking away.
 
“You should eat a little anyways.
 
I’ll heat up some soup.
 
Take a seat,” he said, pointing at the couch.
 
The coffee table was cluttered with cans and empty paper plates and Caleb dumped them in the trash, wondering how he hadn’t realized how dirty the house had become, before he microwaved some soup.

Once Peter ate a little, Caleb made him wash it down with a couple spoonfuls of medicine that would help bring his fever down and then showed him where the bathroom was.
 
“You’ll feel better after a shower.
 
There’s shampoo and soap in there.
 
And I’ll go get you a towel.”

Caleb returned only a couple minutes later, but when he pushed open the door, Peter was in the process of undressing.
 
The teenager froze, his t-shirt half over his head, and Caleb cursed when he saw the dark mottling of bruises over the teenager’s torso.

“What the fuck, Peter?
 
How long has this been going on?” Caleb demanded, staring at the sheer number of them.
 
Peter tugged down his shirt, unable to conceal a wince, but he didn’t say anything in his defense.
 
“Peter, tell me right now or I swear to—”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded, his voice cracking.
 
“I know people in the system.
 
I’ve heard things.
 
Bad things.
 
I only have a year and a half until I’m eighteen.
 
Please
don’t say anything.”

“Peter,” Caleb said, closing his eyes.
 
“You can’t ask me to do that.
 
This is serious.”

The teenager was on the verge of tears.
 
“Please, I’m begging you!
 
Don’t say anything.
 
Only a year and half more.
 
That’s all.
 
Then it won’t matter.”

Jesus
.

“What were you planning to do?” Caleb asked, his jaw pulsing.
 
“Live in the garage for that time?
 
Your parents would come looking for you.”

“They don’t even know I’m gone,” Peter said.
 
Caleb was surprised by the bitterness creeping into his voice.
 
“They won’t come looking for me.”

“You don’t know that,” Caleb said.
 
He blew out a breath, pinching the space between his brows.

“Please, Caleb,” Peter pleaded.
 
“Please.”

Caleb looked at him and then his eyes strayed to the dirty t-shirt covering up the boy’s bruises.
 
He couldn’t send Peter back into a home like that.
 
Nor could he bring him to the attention of the state.
 
Caleb had heard stories as well.
 
Sometimes, the kids were worse off in the foster system.

Caleb handed Peter the towel.
 
“Get cleaned up.
 
I’ll leave fresh clothes outside the door.”

Then he turned and shut the bathroom door, staring at the dark expanse of his hallway.
 
He didn’t know what to do.
 
If he didn’t say anything, Peter would be his responsibility.
 
Was he ready for the consequences if someone did find out?
 
Was he ready to care for a teenager?

He snorted.
 
No.
 
He was sleeping in a living room, for fuck’s sake.

After leaving a fresh pair of clothes for Peter, he ventured into the bedroom he had as a teenager, for the first time in months.
 
The air was stale when he pushed open the door, but everything was neat and exactly how Caleb had left it.
 
The room was perfectly fine, if not for those dark, ugly memories.
 
It would have to do for Peter.
 
At least it wasn’t a utility closet.

Peter found Caleb standing in the doorway of the room once he was done showering.
 
The boy already looked better, even in fresh clothes that hung off his lanky frame, and a good night’s rest, in a bed, would do him good.

“You can stay in here,” Caleb said, nodding into the room before turning away from it.

“Are you going to report me?” Peter asked, eyeing him, his backpack dangling from his fingertips.
 
Caleb knew that if he said yes, the teenager would run.
 
And he didn’t want that.
 
He cared about Peter.
 
If something happened to him because of this…

“No,” Caleb said, almost gravely.
 
“I won’t.”

“Really?” Peter asked, hope lighting up his exhausted eyes.

“You can stay here, under certain conditions,” Caleb told him.
 
“School being one of them, since I know you’ve been ditching.”

Peter ducked his head, but didn’t deny it.

“You can start classes again once you’re feeling better,” Caleb told him, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at him.
 
“Just know that if your parents come looking for you, I won’t be able to do anything, Peter.
 
Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Peter whispered, nodding.
 
“I understand.”

“Good.”
 
Caleb nodded at the bedroom.
 
“Go get some sleep.
 
I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, before ducking into the room.
 
He peered around before closing the door softly.

Caleb heard the lock turn on the door and he almost smiled.
 
Some things would never change and teenagers were one of them.
 
He just hoped that he was doing the right thing.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Maddie whispered, tears clogging her throat as she stared down at the white stick in complete shock.

“What is it?” Kyra asked on the other side of the door, voice urgent.
 
All Maddie had to do was open the bathroom door and then Kyra bit her lip, eyebrows drawing together.
 
“Oh, honey.”

“What does this mean?” Maddie demanded, thrusting the stick she’d just peed on in Kyra’s hands.
 
“It can’t be right!”

Kyra looked down at the pregnancy test and looked at the box it came in just for confirmation.
 
Every second of silence was robbing Maddie of breath and she burst into tears.
 
Between sobs and hyperventilating and her thundering heartbeat, she felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

“Shhhh,” Kyra soothed, setting the test down on the sink and rubbing Maddie’s back in slow circles.
 
“Honey, it will be okay.”

“This can’t be happening,” Maddie whispered, staring at her best friend in shock.
 
“It was one time.
 
And he used a condom.”

“One time is all it takes,” Kyra noted, her expression solemn.
 
“And condoms can break.
 
Did you check it?”

“I don’t know,” Maddie cried, vision blurring through the tears as she wiped at her face.
 
“We didn’t…he…we kind of fought afterwards so I didn’t notice anything unusual.”

No, no, no, this was all wrong.
 
Maddie had always wanted kids.
 
A lot of kids.
 
She wanted a big family one day—the key words being
one day
.
 
Not
right now
.
 
Finding out she was pregnant was supposed to be a joyous occasion, one she would share with her partner or spouse, not crying all over her best friend, frightened, when she was less than a year and a half away from getting her Masters degree.

And oh God, what would her mom say?
 
What would her mom think?
 
And what about school?
 
Her career, her internship?

This can’t be happening.
 
This isn’t real.

Seven weeks.
 
It had been seven weeks—and three days to be precise—since Maddie had last seen Caleb.
 
When she missed her period over a month ago, she told herself it was just stress.
 
She’d missed a couple in the past; it was no big deal.
 
Everything that had been happening with Caleb, and working two jobs, and school…she just figured it made sense.
 
The possibility that she was pregnant had never even crossed her mind because it was something that she’d
never
had to consider in the past.