“It’s beautiful,” Sage says, her voice filled with awe. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’m living here,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me tighter.
I kiss her temple, breathing her in, the breeze cool on my face. “I know what you mean,” I say without turning away from her.
The boat pulls away from the dock, making her bump into me. She peers up at me through her long lashes. “I’ve been writing again.”
“Yeah?”
“Bits and pieces of poems that come to me when I’m on the subway or cooking.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, keeping her gaze on mine. “I’ve been revising my old stuff too. It’s not much, but it feels good to get words onto a page again, even if it is only three at a time.”
I dip my head low and kiss her lips, lingering there as the wind wraps around us like a cocoon, keeping us close—right where we’re supposed to be.
Leaning her forehead to mine, she whispers, “What was that for?”
“You,” I answer honestly. “You’re amazing, and I’m happy for you. I know how rewarding it can be to do things you love. For yourself.”
She watches me with watery eyes.
“What?”
“It’s…” She clears her throat, her lips twitching. “You make me feel as if anything’s possible. I like that you want me to go for it.”
Her statement throws me off. “Why wouldn’t I want you to do the things that make you happy?”
“You’d be surprised.” She steps out of my hold and studies the view around us as the sun sets across the skyline. “Some people only want to see you fail in order to feel better about themselves.”
I grip the rail in front of me, cursing under my breath. The small waves crash against the ferry like my heart hammers in my chest. “Is that what happened with Dave?” I ask. It makes me cringe, but I want to know because no matter how much I hate it, he’s part of her past.
I’m scared of her answer, but knowing it means I can understand her better—who she is now.
“You know how he always laughed about my New York dream?”
I clench my jaw. “Yes, and I fucking hated it, Jersey. I couldn’t take the way your face fell each time.”
The bastard and I were friends. We had a few classes together and watched football every week. It was always a good time, but it didn’t take long to figure out the kind of person he truly was.
He never deserved Sage.
“Well, it never got better. When I opened my own business and was successful, to him, it meant I thought I was better than him. At first, he was happy and encouraging, then quiet. It got worse from there. The jealousy, the insecurities. It got to him so badly that I started keeping my work to myself to ease the tension.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. This is a date. I shouldn’t be talking about Dave.”
“I want to know you. All of you. And that includes Dave, although I wish what you had to say didn’t make me want to punch him in the jaw.”
“You did once.”
I turn my back against the rail and cross my arms. “I did what? Punch him?”
“Well, you elbowed him in the chin during intramural basketball. You claimed it was a mistake, but after we slept together, I started wondering if it was on purpose.” Her eyes shine, amused, as she waits for an answer.
I exhale, hanging my head. “It was definitely on purpose.”
“Is it bad that I’m smiling? What does that say about me?”
“That you’re pretty ruthless.” I pull her into my arms and clasp my fingers behind her. “That you’re confident and so fucking sexy I’ve thought about you nonstop for days. Weeks. Years, even when I didn’t know it.”
She smooths the collar of my jacket down. “No more talk of the past, okay?” A shadow casts over her expression before she smiles up at me.
Thinking she doesn’t want me worrying about Dave, I let it go. I kiss her lips, then mumble against them, “Sounds like a plan.” I kiss her again, groaning under my breath, then look at the skyline, squinting in the direction of my place. “I can practically see my loft from here. We could run to it, get naked, and still have enough time for dinner and drinks.”
She smacks my chest as the boat slows. “We’re being spontaneous about dinner and drinks, remember?”
“What’s more spontaneous than skipping dinner to get naked?”
She stands on her tiptoes as the boat comes to a stop and says, “Take me to dinner first because I’m starving. Then, we’ll grab a bottle of wine on our way to your place, and I’ll make it worth your while.” She kisses me, and when she pulls back, her eyes sparkle.
I thread my fingers through hers and follow her off the boat, nearly sprinting to find the first place that sells food.
We haven’t seen each other much this week, and she’s too optimistic about my resolve.
When it comes to Sage, though, I’m merely a twenty-one-year-old with too much excitement.
“You’re wearing the lacy black one-piece?” My mouth hangs open as Sage shuts the bathroom door behind her.
It rises above her hipbone on each side.
The lace dips in a V down below her chest.
She’s a fucking goddess.
“I told you I’d make it worth your while.” She sashays toward me, to where I sit in only my boxers, my back against the window. “I’ve been properly dined. Had my wine. Now, I’m ready for something I couldn’t find on the menu.”
I sit up straighter as she gets to the edge of the bed and crawls toward me, her lips teasing.
Her eyes shining.
Her cleavage so sexy.
I’m rock hard, and my hands itch to touch her.
But I like this little game she’s playing too much.
She runs her palms down my chest, to my abs, to the waistband of my boxers, and I fight the urge to toss her beneath me.
But the thought of having her on top stops me.
She tugs at my boxers, and I lift myself off the bed to help her. When I’m free, she takes me in her mouth without hesitation, only intention.
Intention to drive me mad.
“Fuck…” I groan, drawing out the word as she works me slowly.
Deliberately.
She wraps her fingers around the length of me, her black fingernails matching her lingerie.
She’s confident and hot, and I won’t last long, not with her head bobbing up and down, her warm and wet mouth sucking me into oblivion.
My chest heaves.
Her mouth clamps tighter around me, her teeth grazing my head, taking me deeper until I hit the back of her throat.
I might pass out from the sensations.
The heat.
Tugging on a fistful of her hair, I thrust my hips upward—close.
So damn close.
“That’s it,” I mutter, my voice raspy, strained, overwhelmed with what this woman does to me.
My release comes fast and hard, shooting down her throat, but she doesn’t move.
She fucking swallows. My God…
I groan, leaning my head back with a thud, spent.
When I open my eyes again, she uses her fingers to wipe her mouth. “Forgive me yet for making you wait?” She quirks her eyebrow.
“Oh, you are more than forgiven. I am definitely in your debt,” I pant, pulling her against me.
“I accept cookies, coffee, or sexy time.” She laughs against my chest, and it’s a sound that echoes in my head.
Suddenly, the whispers of the past are loud and clear, hitting me square in the stomach.
She used to mesmerize me with that sound like a siren’s call, and it does the same to me now.
My heart thunders like a damn rainstorm.
“You posted picture after picture with one girl after another.”
I grip her as the weight of what I did to her—how I made her doubt me and my feelings for her—causes a crushing pain to my chest.
My guilt is heavy on my conscience.
This woma
n… she deserved better.
And she needs to know the truth of what happened.
Caught in my emotions, I turn to my side to face her. “About what happened back then… there’s something I need to tell you. When I left, I was so stupid. Angry. Hurt. I wasn’t thinking, but those girls in the pictures… I didn’t—” I pause when she tenses against me. Clearing my throat, I’m ready to continue, but she stops me, placing her hand on my chest and splaying her delicate fingers across my pec.
Her gaze is glued there—distant. “Let’s stay here, in the present. Okay?” She peeks up at me as she swipes her tongue across her bottom lip. “Let’s stay here,” she whispers, then kisses the corner of my mouth before fully planting her lips on mine.
My vision blurs the longer we kiss. The longer we tangle our legs together in the sheets.
The nagging voice in my head is muffled by her sighs and moans the longer she’s in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
SAGE
I blink at my phone to make sure I’m not hallucinating, then swipe to answer. “Mom?”
There’s a short pause, then, “Hi, Sage.”
I wait for her to go on, but when she doesn’t, I ask, “How are you? Haven’t spoken in a while.”
She pauses again, and I wonder if she hung up. I’m about to pull the phone back to check when I hear, “I’ve been very busy, as I’m sure you have as well.” I hear what I assume is her back door sliding open. “I’m remodeling the kitchen, and I haven’t been able to decide on the right colors.”
I nod, unsurprised. She’s redone every room in her house several times over the years—there aren’t any new colors left at this point.
“How are you doing? Ginger keeps me in the loop with the occasional phone call, whenever I can answer. I didn’t even know you moved in with Naomi until last week.”
I take a deep breath, steadying my voice. “I told you that before I left. Where did you think I’ve been living this whole time?”
She sighs as if I annoy her with the truth. “You’ve moved around a lot. It’s hard to keep up with you and your choices of the week. Honestly, Sage, you can’t expect me to know every detail.”
And she never does.
Suddenly, I wish she wouldn’t have called. I could go without her constant judgment that I’m doing everything wrong. If anything, I’m creating a better life for myself by being here and doing well, both personally and professionally.
Of all people, I’d think she would understand that.
“Glad you called, Mother,” I say sarcastically, looking toward the sky.
“Watch your tone. I raised you better than that.”
“Right,” I mumble.
There’s a muffled commotion in the background. “I need to go, Sage. They’re working in the kitchen and knocked a vase over.”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond before she hangs up, but I’m not surprised.
I am in shock, though, that she called to begin with. After all, she didn’t have anything nice to say. She didn’t even wait to hear how I’m doing. What I’m up to. Who I’m seeing.
She almost seemed indifferent—more than usual, anyway. What the hell is up with her?
There’s no use in trying to ask that question. I haven’t understood her my entire life. It won’t change now.
I stare out at the parking lot. I was about to enter the grocery store when my mother called. Blinking, I try to remember what I was here to get.
Food.
Food to cook dinner.
Dinner with Aiden tomorrow night.
“Right,” I mutter to myself and stand from the bench. I don’t remember sitting down, but it’s not unusual, given how flustered I get every time my mother’s involved.
As I walk through the aisles of noodles, my mind flashes to Aiden and his family. From what he’s said, he hasn’t seen them in a while, but they’re still close and keep up with each other.
A twinge of jealousy stabs at me as the crushing realization that I might never be close to my mom settles in.
“Are you almost here?” I switch my phone from one shoulder to the other as I sway my hips and stir the Alfredo sauce together.
The smell of garlic and herbs fills the room like musical notes, and I dance along to the rhythm.
Naomi has the graveyard shift again tonight, so Aiden and I are cooking and eating here for a change. Although, I miss his apartment. The kitchen is much bigger there.
“The train is stopping now, so I’ll be there shortly,” Aiden reassures me.
“Food’s almost ready, and I don’t want to have to start without you,” I tease.
“I’m running.”
Humming, I hang up, and a few minutes later, there’s a knock. “He must’ve been closer than he thought,” I say to myself as I open the door. “You didn’t have—”
The rest of my sentence gets caught in my throat, along with my stomach.
“Dave…” I take in his wrinkled shirt. The dark circles under his eyes. His frown. “How did you… What’re you doing here?” I sputter as he brushes past me, leaving me in the doorway, stunned.
Turning around the small space, he places one hand on his narrow hip above the waistband of his dark jeans, a small blue notebook in his other hand. His dark hair is buzzed on the sides, and he seems leaner than before.
Otherwise, he’s the same.
As he takes in my apartment, he wears the identical disapproving frown he’s worn most of my adult life.
Same glare he’s been giving me for over a year.
And the same distaste is in my mouth as I’ve had for a while when it comes to him.
How did he find me? My mom called yesterday for the first time in months, and now Dave? What the Hell?
I cross my arms and ask again, “What are you doing here?”
“I cannot believe you gave up our life together for this shithole.” He laughs like the villain in every movie. Sadistic. Mocking. His disappointed gaze lands on me, and right when I’m sure he’s going to spew another insult, I catch white sauce bubbling over the pot in my periphery.
“Shit,” I mumble, rushing to turn the stove off. A hissing sound from where the sauce meets the hot stove fills the silence, and my hands shake as I clean it up.
“Who are you cooking for?” Dave asks, his tone accusatory.
And he’s right behind me.
“Where is that fucker?” he sneers, stepping up to meet my back, his breath hot against my neck.
“How did you know he lives in New York?” Cringing, I stare at a spot of chipped tile on the wall in front of me as I wait for his answer.
“We still have a mutual friend. Heard a while back that he moved.”
“How did you find me?”
“Would you believe it if I said your mom?” He laughs, but nothing about this is funny. My mother?
“What’re you talking about?”
“Turns out, she does like me. She finally sees you were the problem all along and not me.”
I tense when he sweeps my hair over my shoulder.
No.
My mother wouldn’t…
Would she?
“Don’t touch me,” I warn, moving over, trying to put distance between us.
But this kitchen is too small, and he traps me in the corner of the counter.
“Are you fucking him?” He raises his voice, slamming his palm on the counter next to me, and I hear the echo in my head.
I narrow my gaze at him, refusing to cower. I’ve put up with his bullshit for long enough. “Don’t yell at me, Dave. Don’t come to my home to yell at me like a jealous fucking teenager whining over his lost girlfriend.”
“Of course, I’m jealous.” His lips twist, and his eyes are full of pain. “I miss you, and he doesn’t deserve you.”
As I stare into his eyes, I almost feel bad for him right now. The truth is, I do feel bad. For years, I’ve been crippled by my guilt because I lied to him, but his attitude has always been a problem
, even before my lie.
And it’s only gotten worse.
“Back away,” Aiden’s voice rings out.
I peer over Dave’s shoulder at him. He steels himself in the doorway, a white box in his hands. He narrows his gaze—he looks lethal.
His glare is murderous.
“You motherfucker.” Dave leaps after him.
I try to grab ahold of his arm, but it’s no use. Aiden drops the box on the floor, ignoring the cookies that spill out, and meets him halfway.
“Stop!” I yell before they get into a brawl in my kitchen. I stand between them, refusing Aiden’s attempt to push me behind him. “Don’t.” I make Aiden look at me and soften my voice. “Please don’t.”
His expression morphs as he steps back, then turns his attention to Dave again.
“I cannot believe you,” Dave seethes. “You were my best friend. My best friend, asshole, and then you quit on me. After my grandpa died, you disappeared for years, and then I find out you fucked my wife when you were supposed to have my back!”
“Watch how you talk about her.” Aiden’s voice is low.
“Oh, now you want to act like a gentleman? Are you fucking kidding me?” Dave’s sarcastic laughs echo between us.
“Guys, calm down—”
“I watched you hook up with whore after whore, and you think you’re better than me now? Don’t kid yourself. Sage is too good for you, you coward.”
“She is too good for me—we can agree on that. At least I know and admit it. But as true as that may be, she’s better off with me than she ever was with you.” Aiden takes a threatening step toward him. “She never even wanted you. She settled.”
Dave lunges, and again, I jump between them before either one of them can throw a punch.
Dave looks at me, his jaw ticking, shaking his head.
Broken.
“After everything, I can’t believe you ran to him. I held you when you miscarried. I wiped your fucking tears.” He never takes his attention off me as his face reddens, and he raises his voice. “I picked up the pieces while you sat on our bedroom floor, crippled by depression, as you wrote these.” He shoves the blue notebook at my chest, and I curl my hands around it.
Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel Page 18
