Then he would remember the night they'd said goodbye. He'd remember the look on her face when she realized that he wasn't worth all the trouble he'd already caused her. He didn't call her because he cared about her.
He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his scruffy jaw. He hadn't shaved in what seemed like weeks.
His computer screen in front of him began to blur. It was nearing ten on a Friday night, but he'd declined to go out with his friends. The last thing that appealed to him was getting hit on by sloppy drunk women as his friends, in their happy fucking relationships, looked on and laughed. Getting drunk appealed to him, but he hadn't had a drop of alcohol since the night Maddie took him home and he didn't intend to start bad habits now.
Brian had left over two hours ago and the garage had long since been locked up for the night. His office was silent, except for the low hum of his computer. His eyes drifted over to the table that Maddie's workspace had been set up on, his sleepy mind half-expecting to see her there. After she'd finished her work, he'd taken it upon himself to keep up with the bookkeeping since he didn't want to run into another mess, similar to the one his uncle had left him. It took a lot of trial and error-and extensive Googling-but he finally got the hang of it. Still, he couldn't believe the amount of work Maddie had completed in such a short space of time. She'd made it look easy.
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.