Imogen

The sun is barely breaking through the windshield of my beat-up Honda Civic as I groggily wake up. My body aches as I stretch, trying to get into a comfortable position. I have been living in my car for nearly three months, and my body is protesting my living predicament.

Sitting up, I shield my eyes with my hand from the brutal sun and tug my blanket around myself, trying to warm my freezing cold skin. An empty vodka bottle rolls off the seat and onto the passenger side floorboard. Now, I know what you probably think - I'm an alcoholic. I'm not, nor do I ever, drink and drive.

The first night I had to sleep in my car, it was minus three degrees. I was in danger of freezing. Luckily for me, my mother's drinks had helped save the day. My trunk was half full of spirits. I wasn't lying when I said she liked a drink.

I was going to dispose of it but was glad I hadn't that horrendous night—her bestie, vodka, seconded by her equally harsh friend, tequila. I've never been much of a drinker; watching her was enough to deter me from taking that path. But on that freezing night, I decided, why not? I grabbed a bottle, hoping to help myself sleep and forget that I was now homeless and living in my car. My life was already at a pretty crappy crossroads, so what would one more vice hurt?

That night I learned that alcohol could get you through the bitterest wintry nights. You don't feel the sting of the air when you're intoxicated. In fact, you feel little of anything. My alcohol tolerance has become rather impressive. I don't drink myself to oblivion, but on nights like the first night I spent in this cramped car, I knocked a few back to help chase away the cold like last night.

Exhaling, I watch the sun slowly rise over the horizon, bringing its warm rays to chase the chills away, the heat filtering through the windshield. There is one plus side to living in your car. I am always on time for work; it helps that I live in the workplace parking garage, making me never late. No one knows that little secret except the janitor, Tom. A sixty-year-old man, balding on top, with kind eyes, a cuddly figure, and a grandfatherly nature.

He stumbled upon me sleeping in my car one night. I told him it was only temporary, so he kept my secret. My bosses just think I am an eager and enthusiastic worker. I'm always the first to work besides Tom, who opens the parking garage and the building, and I am always the last to leave. I'm not about to correct them. They can assume whatever they want. I need this job.

Reaching for the ignition, I turn my car on; my phone instantly lights up and charges through the lighter socket while my engine growls in complaint. It is 7 AM. Getting up, I lean over into the back and grab my outfit for the day that is hanging from the roof by the back door.

Sliding my seat all the way back, I shimmy my track pants off and grab a fresh set of panties. Pulling them up my legs, then putting my black slacks on and buttoning them up. Peeking around to make sure no one is within eyeshot, I grab my bra and duck down behind the steering wheel. I don't want to give Tom a heart attack. After ripping my shirt off, I put my white button-up blouse on.

I've just finished slipping my heels on when I notice Tom walking up the driveway to the top level of the parking garage. I toss my sleeping pants on the bottles to hide them and smile at him. Swinging my door open.

"Hey, Tom," I greet, waving at him quickly, then reach in and grab my handbag from the passenger seat. Tom walks over, holding two paper cups. My favorite part of the morning, it has become our morning ritual. Every morning Tom walks all the way to the top level of the parking garage, brings me a coffee, and we both walk back down to the entry together.

"Hi, love. How was your night?" Tom asks, concern evident in his voice.

"It was fine, a bit chilly, but nothing I'm not used to by now," I tell him, grabbing the styrofoam cup from his hand. Wrapping my fingers around the cup, I let the heat warm my palms, almost hesitant to drink the beverage and lose my source of warmth. It is silly; I'd be plenty warm inside the office.

"You know you can always stay…."

Shaking my head, I cut him off before he can continue.

"Tom, I know, but really, I'm fine. This is only temporary." I give him the same smile he gets every time he suggests I come to stay with him. The mask that everything is okay in my world and this is just a minor bump in the road. This small lie slips over me effortlessly like a well-practiced rehearsal. I repeat it daily to him; I sometimes wonder if I'm accepting this as my new normal.

He shakes his head. Every morning for the last few months, he's heard the same excuse. He knows there is no use arguing with me. I'm too stubborn and am not one for accepting help, even if it would help prevent frostbite.

Tom continues to the door before punching in the security code to let us into the building.

He's offered for me to stay with him and his wife more than a dozen times by now. But I don't want to intrude; it isn't so bad here. It is a lot safer than the park I was initially parked at. I shudder at those hazy memories of what could have happened to me. No, being at the top of a parking garage, safe in my car, is far better.

Tom lets me in early every morning. I usually go straight upstairs to my desk, which is conveniently directly in front of the air conditioner.

Catching the elevator to the top floor, I step into the foyer and walk to my desk, my heels clicking on the marble floors. Grabbing the AC remote, I turn the heater up full blast and stand directly under it, warming myself up while I sip my coffee.

Once warmed up, I sit at my desk, start my laptop, and look over the day's schedule and any notes I have left for myself. I have been working at Kane and Madden industries for around twelve months. I'm the secretary for Theo Madden and Tobias Kane. They own the tech company, and I am about 98 percent sure they are a couple.

Not that I have seen them officially together or anything at any of the company parties, or even shared a glance with each other outside these doors. They have separate offices, but they have this way of communicating. They always seem so in sync with each other, and I have caught them staring weirdly at each other. I have also walked in on Theo kissing and sucking on Tobias's neck. So that is a pretty big indicator that they are a little more than business partners.

I must admit it was hot, and it kind of turned me on, until Tobias noticed me gawking which made Theo freeze, and then it got awkward and tense really fast. I ran from the room. They never mentioned it, so I assumed I was let off the hook. I've since added that memory to the “it never happened” file of my brain.

It's a shame they are both gay. They are the hottest gay couple I've ever seen. Or whatever their dynamic is.

Tobias is the more imposing one. His intense gaze sends shivers down my spine and chilling vibes that rival my car; even before I'd walked in on him. If he weren't gay, I'd think I am prey with the way he stares. Sometimes, when he speaks to me, he gets this faraway expression, like he is looking straight through me instead of at me. It isn't the only awkward encounter I've had with Tobias; I swear I heard him growl once. People don't growl, not like predators do. I put it down to the 18-hour shift I’d worked that day.

Tobias Kane is tall, dark-haired, muscular, has a 5 o'clock shadow, possesses a strong jaw, and is gifted with sharp, piercing blue eyes.

Theo Madden, on the other hand, has softer features. He is just as tall as Tobias but has a very casual, laid-back attitude and fluffy brown hair that is short on the sides and a little longer on the top. He has green eyes that sparkle when he talks to me and high cheekbones. Both are breathtakingly handsome. Even after all the time working there, I still get stunned by their godlike appearances.

I'm astonished that I haven't been fired. I have been caught way too many times daydreaming, staring off into space, and having very inappropriate thoughts about my bosses. But I also know I'm extremely good at my job. No one has lasted this long as their secretary, and no one is willing to do the sometimes-grueling hours I have endured in my position.

Once I finish checking my laptop, I check the time. It is 8:30 AM. I still have half an hour before my bosses arrive. Slipping out of my seat, I rush to the bathroom with my handbag. Setting my makeup on the counter, I quickly pull my hairbrush out and brush my unruly waist-length blonde hair.

After deciding to pull it into a high ponytail, I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and quickly brush my teeth. I apply some mascara to my already long, thick eyelashes and some eyeliner to brighten my dark green eyes before putting on some red lipstick. It contrasts nicely with my fair skin.

I'm so glad this floor has no cameras because it would be embarrassing if my bosses found out about my morning routine. Plus, they would see me in all my morning bedhead (or car head) glory. Tom doesn't count. He doesn't care what I look like, and I'm always comfortable around him. But if anyone else had seen me, it might have gotten a bit awkward.

Once I finish, I quickly duck into the small kitchenette and prepare their coffees for their arrival. I hear the elevator ding just as I finish making them. I place them on a tray and hurry back to my desk, tray in hand. It's the perfect routine, and it has never failed me once.

Tobias is the first to step out of the elevator. He is sporting his black suit today, accompanied by a white shirt and silver tie. His head is bowed, staring at his phone. He grabs his coffee off the tray without even glancing up at me and walks directly into his office.

Theo, on the other hand, has a gray suit on, and the top three buttons on his white shirt are undone, exposing part of his chest. I have yet to see him ever as polished as Tobias, or in a tie, for that matter. Theo stops, grabs his mug, and takes a sip. "Good morning, Imogen," he says with a wink before walking into his office across from Tobias.

Tobias shuts his door, pulling me from my stupor, and I can't help the blush that creeps across my face, making my entire body heat up. I quickly place the tray back in the kitchen and grab the tablet off my desk. Hesitantly, I stand at the door to Tobias's office, giving myself a mental pep talk while hoping he is in a good mood today and doesn't have anything heavy close by to throw at me.

Just before I knock, his voice sings out. "Are you going to enter or stand out there all day?" His husky, deep voice makes me jump, and I quickly open the door enough to slip inside.

Tobias sits at his desk, fingers typing away at his laptop. He still hasn't looked up. I stand there, moving from foot to foot awkwardly. Mr. Kane, I've always found him very intimidating. He's always so formal, so serious.

When I don't speak, he looks up, eyes pinning me where I stand, and I swallow nervously. My hands tremble slightly at his intense gaze. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for me to speak and snapping me to my senses. Clutching the tablet in my hands like a shield, I step closer while checking his schedule.

"You have a meeting at 12 with Mr. Jacobs. I have also forwarded the proposals, ready for your meeting, and I'm sending through now the emails received in reply to the conference meeting you held last Thursday." I'm proud that my voice is still professional and clear, even if my fingers tremble.

"Is that all?" He raises a brow, waiting for more.

"No sir, I need you to sign off on the charity fundraiser for the hospital," I reply, looking for the said paperwork. Have I left it behind? Shit!

"So, where is the document?"

Imogen, you fool, the one piece of paperwork required, and I left it on my desk. I internally facepalm myself.

Cringing at my stupidity, I hold my finger up. Tobias rolls his eyes at me, clearly frustrated by my mistake, with his hand open, waiting for the document. "Ah, one minute, sir."

He sighs, annoyed at me, no doubt. I duck out, retrieve the document, and race back, my heels clicking loudly as I try not to slip on the tiled floor. Skidding to a stop in front of his desk, I wobble on my feet and quickly slide it onto the desk in front of him. He signs it without glancing at it, then passes it back to me.

His attention is once more fully on his laptop. I don't exist in his world, so I take a moment to study him. Stolen moments when I can observe my bosses are rare, and I always take advantage of them.

Gawking like some creep, I can't help but notice that he looks tired. Dark circles hang under his usually vibrant blue eyes, and his skin is paler than his normal sunkissed tan. I stare off into space, forgetting what I'm supposed to be doing, too busy admiring my boss and having another one of those completely inappropriate daydreams. Mr. Kane clears his throat, dragging me from my thoughts. He raises his eyebrow at me, catching me checking him out. That doesn't usually happen. Did I make some sort of noise?

"Oh, sorry, sir." I stumble over the words and duck my head to hide my red cheeks. He shakes his head at me, but I hear a small chuckle as I run from the room and close the door. Both men always make me flustered.

I've always felt cloudy in their presence; I have even forgotten to breathe. The last time it happened, I passed out. To be fair, I hadn't eaten, so my brain was already mush. I awoke to Theo's concerned face leaning over me, all while Tobias just stared at me like I was mentally challenged.

Seriously, who forgets to breathe? It is meant to be a primary bodily function. Instinct! And I couldn't even get that right.

That was the day I figured out why no one wanted this job. It is tough to focus on work around them, on the verge of impossible. They could become a distraction without meaning to.

I've since discovered that Mr. Kane can be quite horrible. I don't think he realizes the nasty things he says when angry.

Luckily for him, I have tough skin and desperately need this job. I also ensure I have my tablet in my hand whenever I go into his office in case he throws something.

Once, I watched him hit the tech guy with a drink bottle when he was in a rage. Seriously, the man has anger issues and needs therapy or something. Everyone walks on eggshells around him, well, except for Theo. The tech guy hasn't been back since, not that I can blame him.

Sitting at my desk, I chuckle at the memory before returning to my computer. My job is surprisingly easy, plus it pays well. Not much physical activity is required unless you count answering phones and carrying files. The only demanding thing is the hours. I'm literally on call 24/7. Not just as their secretary but also as a personal assistant, not that they get me to do much unless it is work-related. The hours can sometimes be ghastly, like working until the early morning hours before big deadlines. But at least on those days, I don't have to worry about the cold.

Hitting the print button, I walk into the printer room that sits off the side of the kitchenette. I'm waiting for my printed document when the printer makes a beep, and an error code pops up. The paper tray is empty. Bending down, I open up the door on the printer and remove the tray before going to the drawer to get some paper.

The cupboard is empty. Walking out, I head over to the storeroom. Opening the door, I flick on the light and peer around at the shelves. I sigh when I see where it has been placed. And yet, I'm not surprised; this is the second time some moron has decided to stack it on the top shelf in one giant pile.

Pulling the step ladder out from behind the door, I sit on it, take my heels off, and climb up. I have to stand on my tippy toes to reach the box. I grip it with the tips of my fingers and pull it toward the edge, sending the stack of papers wobbling.

"Need a hand?" Theo asks from directly behind me. I gasp and jump in fright; I teeter as I lose my balance. Quickly gripping the shelf with my fingertips, I right myself and regain my footing. My heart hammers in my chest over the close call. Once my heart rate calms down, I become quickly aware of the hand grasping my ass.

Slowly, I look down at my boss; Theo's hand is holding me steady by grabbing me by the ass. His large hand is firmly pressed on my butt through my pants; I can feel his palm, his thumb nestled between my legs, pressing where my core is. Thank god I have pants on today and not a skirt.

"Um, boss," I say, peering down at his hand. He finally notices where he has grabbed me. A slight smirk creeps its way onto his face. The feel of his large hand on me makes my skin burn and my insides melt. An unfamiliar feeling washes over me. What's wrong? I have to fight the urge to shut my thighs to stop the sudden ache between my legs.

Instead of letting go like a normal person, he runs his hand over the curve of my ass and down the inside of my thigh, pausing to grasp at my ankle. Only then does he pull it away from me. My skin flushes with embarrassment at my crush on my gay boss. Theo pauses and tilts his head up to look at me; a sly smile spreads across his face at my embarrassment.

He then reaches over and grabs the stupid box I was painstakingly trying to retrieve, shoving the rest of the paper to the side as he retrieves the stupid thing as if it were easy.

I quickly step down the ladder, put my heels back on, and grab the box from him while I avoid looking at his face.

"Were you looking for something?" I ask as I walk from the storeroom back to the printer. He follows me with that same little smirk plastered on his lips.

"Yeah, I tried to print something when I realized the printer was out of paper," Theo replies, leaning on the counter next to the printer.

I quickly load the paper onto the tray before inserting it into the printer. Clearing the error, I hit print. The machine prints out the documents, and I grab mine to get them out of his way. Stapling the papers together, I place them on the counter.

When no more come out, I turn to Theo. "Are you sure you hit print?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Theo seems to think before speaking. "I think so."

I roll my eyes at him and walk into his office. He follows behind me and stands in the doorway to his office, leaning against the door frame, watching me with those piercing eyes.

“The merger document?” I ask, peering at his computer screen. He nods, and I hit print before walking back to the printer. His document prints out. I staple it together and then hand it to him.

Theo watches my every move. His intense gaze makes me feel uncomfortable, but I can’t look away. After a few tense seconds, he turns and walks out without a word. I inhale a greedy breath of air, not realizing I was holding it. I make my way back to my desk. Theo has been acting weird since last week. I’ve caught him staring at me more times than I could count.

Tobias has even been on edge lately. I heard them arguing over something the other day. I tried to tune it out as best I could, their relationship is none of my business. But it makes it a little awkward and tense around the office, and Theo’s bizarre stare-offs aren’t helping.

Tobias remains in his office most of the day in one of his moods. The only time I hear from him is when I have transferred calls to his phone line. Before I know it, it is 5:30 PM. Where has my day gone? Mr. Kane and Mr. Madden leave at 5:00. I finish shutting everything down before switching the lights off and heading to the parking lot. Once there, I grab my phone charger and some warm clothes to change into and pile everything into my handbag.

I have to be back to my car before Tom locks up. Tom works a few hours in the morning and then returns at night to empty the trash and scrub the floors before locking up the garage and rolling down the doors at 9:00 PM. It gives me plenty of time to visit my mother before heading back.

Walking through the empty parking garage, I come out on the ground floor level, on the park side. Cutting through the park, I head towards the big blue neon sign that sits atop the hospital across from Kane and Madden Industries. Mater Hospital. Every day, I walk over to check on her. Making my way to the second floor, I head to the wards: room eighteen, bed five. I’m lucky the hospital is so close to my job; I can't imagine trying to fight traffic, taking away the precious time I have with her.

My mother has been here for just over four months. I take a seat in the sterile room. I hate hospitals. They always smell of hand sanitizer, and this particular ward reeks of death. No, my mother doesn't have some debilitating chronic illness. I actually wish that were the case. No, my mother, Lila Riley, is in a coma.

She'd been driving home from a local bar she worked at, and a drunk driver ran a red light, smashing into her. Her car was a total loss; they had to use the jaws of life to get her from the vehicle. She has been in a coma ever since. The doctors told me she is brain-dead and that the only thing keeping her alive are the machines she is hooked up to.

The hospital said they couldn’t keep her in this state forever and tried to have her life support shut off last month. After appealing their decision to turn off her life support, I’d pushed it to nearly five months. I’m still waiting to hear from the Medical Ethics Association. I know it is a battle I will lose. But for now, it has granted me extra days with her.

It’s only a matter of time before they pull the plug on her and tell me I have to say goodbye—also the reason why I live in my car. Mom’s medical bills are expensive, and even when the time comes to switch her off, I will have to live in my car for at least another two years to finish paying the debt off. My medical insurance covers a dependent child or spouse, so it is no use. My mother doesn’t even have medical insurance. She worked cash in hand and struggled to keep a job for long.

I know most people think it's wishful thinking that she will wake up, but I can't give up on her. She taught me to walk, talk, use a spoon, and how to ride a bike. From the beginning, she has been by my side. She was my first friend. In fact, she is my only friend. She raised me as a single mom from the time I was born. My father walked out when he found out she was expecting. I never met the man; frankly, I don’t care to meet him.

I lost our house after three weeks of not being able to pay the mortgage. It turned out we were already months behind when the accident happened, and my mother had kept it from me. I had to choose to keep mom alive or keep the house. So, I chose her.

I know she would have done the same for me. I know I’m delaying the inevitable, but how do you kill your mom? Kill the one person who spent your entire life loving and supporting you? When the time comes, I need to know I have tried everything, or I know I won't be able to live with the guilt.

I look down at my mother; she appears to be sleeping, besides the tube hanging out of her mouth that forces her to breathe and is keeping her alive. She has numerous tubes hanging out of her skinny arms.

My mother used to be strong, lively, and happy. She looked younger than her age. With her blonde hair that was just below her shoulder blades, she had excellent skin, no wrinkles, full pink lips, and a tan complexion. She looked great for a 45-year-old.

But now, her skin has turned gray from the lack of sunlight, and her hair has become oily and flat as she has lost the ability to care for it daily. She has lost all her weight and muscle mass and is now skin and bone. She is wasting away in this hospital bed, a living corpse. Sitting in the blue chair, I scoot closer to the bed and grab her hand.

“Hey Momma, I miss you.” I brush her hair off her forehead, which is stuck to her skin. I listen to the beep of her heart monitor, hearing it beep regularly and the sound of the ventilator forcing her to breathe. It is the same set of sounds every day. I used to come and sit with her for hours and tell her about my day or read to her. But after a couple of months, I just tell her I love her. I have run out of things to say.

I miss her soft voice telling me everything is going to be okay. I miss the way she made everything look effortless. Lila Riley may not have been a perfect mother, but she'd been perfect to me. Yeah, she had a drinking problem, but other than that, I know she did the best she could with the hand life had dealt her.

There was never a lack of love, and no matter how badly I fucked up, she was always there to help me pick up the pieces and rebuild.

When I watch her, I think of all the things she will miss and all the memories she won’t get to be a part of.

After sitting with her for a while, I quickly duck into the small bathroom. The nurse Sally is on night shift tonight and always lets me shower here. It’s the only time I get to shower with warm water. Not hot, but like lukewarm bath water as the showers are temperature regulated. Still, I don't complain. Warm water is far better than cold. The other people in this room need assistance and are bedridden like my mother, so I don't have to worry about anyone opening the door, but I always lock it just in case a cleaner or nurse decides to stop in.

Showering quickly, I wash my hair and my body, scrubbing extra good while I have the power of warm water. When I’m done, I hop out, dry myself off and slip into my track pants so I don't have to change in the cramped car. I also slide my feet into some socks before putting on a pair of flats. I then jam everything back into my oversized handbag while making my way back to my mother’s side to say goodbye.

Sitting on the table next to my charging phone are some club sandwiches. Sally must have come in while I was in the shower. She knows my situation and that I have little left over after I pay the hospital, so every shift she is on, I always find sandwiches or any leftover food from the cafeteria on the table waiting for me.