After Mike had dumped me and run off to Hollywood to star in the wet dreams of every teenaged girl in the country and a lot of the teenaged boys too, I'd gone to school to become a resident care worker. A kind of glorified personal carer, I guessed. We did the grunt work of looking after the sick and elderly, without any of the medical responsibilities. I'd come here to work at Pine Valley Retirement and Care Center right after I'd graduated from that and I'd been here ever since. What else was a jilted omega supposed to do?

Morning shift at work included breakfast delivery and clean-up, then most of the rest of the shift would be spent on collecting laundry and helping residents get around the building to visit friends and spend time in the common areas. I was assigned to the assisted living apartments in the two front wings of the building today, which meant more walking, but lighter work.

"Hey, Mrs. Costner," I said as I carried her breakfast tray into her apartment. "How's the hip this morning?"

"I'll be glad to be able to get out of this bed again," she said. She sounded a little cross, though that was just frustration, I thought. She had all the typical medical problems of any late eighties lady, but she’d never let it stop her enjoying her life and getting around. Until she’d broken a hip and been confined to her bed for the past couple of weeks. I’d have to come back later and help her with her hygiene needs and get her prettied up for visitors. She did have a lot—her family were very attentive. The only reason she had an apartment with us was because she refused to live with any of her children—said they treated her like an old woman and she didn’t feel that old yet.

I thought she was a hoot.

"Well, I've got your breakfast for you," I said sunnily and helped her lift the head of the bed to a more comfortable position for eating and got her propped up so she didn't have to use any of her limited strength to stay upright while she ate. Recovery from surgery was a bitch, especially at her age. "You just sit right there and be comfortable and I'll get your breakfast all ready for you."

"I hope it's something better than those rubbery eggs they gave me yesterday," she complained.

I picked up the cover of her breakfast and peeked underneath it. "Nope, looks like poached eggs today." I set her breakfast on her tray table and moved it over the bed so she could easily reach everything. "Do you want me to spread your jam on your toast this morning or are you okay to do it yourself?" Some days she had trouble holding a knife or fork and we had special utensils for her to use to eat her meals with fat handles weighted properly so that she wouldn't drop them.

"Please," she said, which meant that she was having a bad day and that her hands weren't working properly.

"No problem at all," I told her. "It's my pleasure."

She watched me while I spread the jam on her toast, taking care to get it all the way out to the edges the way she liked. All of a sudden, she reached out and put one bony, deformed hand on my forearm. "You're such a good boy," she said. "Why hasn't some alpha snapped you up and taken you away to live a life of luxury?"

I forced a laugh. "I guess I never found one that suited me," I said as lightly as I could.

She shook her finger at me. "Don't put your entire life on hold for one silly boy," she said.

One of the things I really liked about working here was that most of the residents either weren't interested in my past or had forgotten about it. Trust Mrs. Costner to remember all about my tragic love story. "I don't think this is putting my life on hold. I have a job, family, friends. A savings account."

I added the last as a joke, but about a year ago I'd decided I needed to move out of my parents' basement and into my own place. I had the start of a tidy little nest egg now, and no idea what I should do with it.

Mom thought I should wait until I had enough for a down-payment on a house, but I was kind of thinking that twenty-four was old enough to be getting out of your parents’ basement and maybe I should be looking to see what apartments I could afford.

I finished putting jam on her toast and arranged it on her plate. "Do you want me to send Cathy in to help you clean up after?"

"No, dear," she told me as she reached for one of the triangles of toast. "No one else is as respectful as you are of an old woman's dignity. I'd rather have you than any of those other flibbertigibbets."

Her use of the old slang made me laugh, until I remembered Maddie using it too. To describe Mike. And then it wasn't so funny anymore. "I'll be back in a bit, then. You enjoy your breakfast." I turned on the little television mounted on her wall and changed the channel to the morning show she liked to watch, then let myself out the door. I had other patients to see and then a wake to get ready for.