Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel

by Georgia Coffman

  “Certain information has come to light.” She holds her hands up when we—including Sage—start to ask for more details. “I won’t share until I confirm, but we may have a lead as to where he got his misguided information. I’m going to meet with him and his agent tomorrow, just the three of us, and hash it out. I’ll give you guys a call the minute we’re finished.”

  Westin, Jared, and I glance at each other, exhaling with relief.

  “Where does that leave us with Aiden?” Westin points to me, and for the hundredth time since I met him, I’m glad I took that IT sales job because I met him.

  Westin always has my back.

  “I’m confident I can get McAllister and his people on our—and Aiden’s—side. I’ll let you know tomorrow for sure, but either way, I think it’s time Aiden comes out of hiding. We now need to shift to the results. Hurricane McAllister was only a setback, and we need to get people focusing instead on the results, which you guys are killing.” Taylor smiles, and it relieves me even more.

  I didn’t realize how pissed I was about the whole thing until yesterday, when I hid Jared’s chips under my desk to get back at him for all the attention he’s getting.

  As if pouring five years of my life into this company has meant nothing.

  But I quickly realized it’s not Jared or anyone else’s fault. It’s the way of the world. Image, background, and experience matter, but so do results, as Taylor says. Which we’re getting, and the team and I continue doing so every day.

  “Oh, one last thing. It’s pretty huge and will definitely give us a boost, to say the least.” She pauses for what I assume is dramatic effect. “Forbes is doing an online article on Jock Stock in their spotlight of up-and-coming companies with a bright future.” She drops her pen like she would a microphone, and we jump out of our seats.

  “Holy shit,” we say in unison.

  “Forbes? Seriously?” Westin’s eyes bug out of his head like the time our first investor told us how much money he wanted to give us.

  “Dead serious.” Taylor holds her arms out. “Turns out, one of the writers and I have a mutual friend, so I asked for an introduction. I pitched him Jock Stock, and he loved it.”

  “Oh my God.” Jared paces, rubbing his palms down his pants.

  This is it.

  Westin and I never imagined all our late nights and headaches would lead us here. For Forbes to even know who we are, let alone want to write about us—me, a guy from the middle-of-nowhere, Virginia, and Westin, a loud kid with too much determination for his own good.

  And Jared, of course, the junk food addict with a brain the size of Earth.

  Jersey celebrates with us, and I wish I could crawl over the table to kiss her.

  We were together at our last meeting.

  She and I exchanged coy glances—we were a team inside and outside of the conference room as she helped me navigate the crazy world we’re now in.

  “I think that’s a good place for us to stop today. We’ll meet back up in a few weeks to finalize the guest list for the launch party and itinerary. Like I said, I’ll also update you on McAllister. As for you guys”—she points to Westin, Jared, and me—“keep being awesome.”

  We thank her and Sage again for all they’re doing.

  Before we separate, I lean down to Sage and whisper, “We should talk. I don’t like the way we left things. Meet me at Hemingway House tonight?”

  “I can’t. I have to work. We have—”

  “Please give me a chance.” I inhale her sweet scent and pick my heavy feet up. I keep walking and don’t stop until I’m on the sidewalk, waiting for an open cab.

  Only a few hours until I can speak my piece.

  My Jersey and me.

  I pull my phone out on the way back to the office and text her to meet me at eight tonight, and when I get to work, I know I’ll count down the minutes until then.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  SAGE

  I walk into Hemingway House fifteen minutes before eight, and as suspected, Aiden’s already here, sitting at the bar in all his plaid glory.

  My nerves are jittery like I drank three pots of coffee, but when Aiden turns his pleading gaze toward me, I stop.

  Being in his presence has always calmed me, and even though I’m still mad at him, it doesn’t change the way the lazy tilt of his lips warms me from the inside out.

  It was so difficult sitting across from him at the meeting today. I felt like we were separated by several miles instead of only a few feet.

  As I approach, he stands and hugs me. I inhale deeply, ignoring how much I love his cologne. How much his presence soothes me.

  How much I wish I could tell him I’m having our baby, so he could hold me.

  But I can’t tell him yet.

  I can’t tell him while I’m still mad at him because then, I know I’ll fast-track this thing between us and get back with him only because of the baby.

  And I refuse to enter another relationship under false pretenses. The next time I get married will be out of pure and honest love.

  Aiden and I have a while to go to get there.

  “What can I get you to drink?” Joey asks, leaning on the bar toward us.

  “A red wi—” I clear my throat. Damn, no drinking. “A water, please.”

  “Nothing to drink?” Aiden asks.

  I shake my head. “Water is great.”

  He shrugs, then finishes his beer and tilts it toward Joey. “I’ll take another.”

  There are plenty of people around, but none of their chatter reaches my ears. All I can think about is where Aiden and I will go from here.

  He scratches his chin, the silence thick with tension, then angles his body toward me. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Happy?” I blink at him.

  He drops his hands in his lap, making him hunch forward, giving him a strange vulnerability. “That I came back for you. That I didn’t sleep with those girls. That I loved you then, and I love you now.”

  I let out a shaky exhale, fighting the way my heart lurches toward him and his love like a plant toward the sun.

  Part of me is happy, but it’s not enough.

  “You don’t get it.” I furrow my brows. “Had you told me this years ago. Had you been there for me years ago… Yes, I would’ve been happy, but you made me believe otherwise. It took Dave coming here for you to finally tell me the truth, that you played childish games with me when I really needed you, and you expect me to be happy?”

  “I tried to tell you before.”

  “Well, you didn’t try hard enough.” I breathe in and out, glancing around me as I lower my voice. “For years, I believed the worst in myself because of you. If you wouldn’t have tried to fuck with my head by posting misleading pictures, I wouldn’t have married Dave. I wouldn’t have felt so guilty for what I did to him. I wouldn’t be so angry with you right now when I know I need—”

  A stray tear falls down my cheek like the dew from my cold glass of water. Swiping it away, I swallow down the rest of my tears.

  “Jersey… I had no idea.”

  After a short pause, I nod. “We need space.”

  He grabs my hand and squeezes, reminding me what it was like for him to touch me. To own my heart and soul.

  And he still does.

  Because I love Aiden, but our love isn’t simple.

  It’s not as easy as confessing a few words—it’s the actions. It’s overcoming the ghosts of our decisions and learning to trust each other again after all the mistakes we’ve made.

  We need time to do that.

  He leans forward, cupping my cheek, weakening my defenses as warmth from his palm travels down to my chest.

  “Don’t,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed, shaking out of his hold. “We’re broken, Aiden. You and I… we’re broken. And it’s not going to fix itself overnight.”

  “I was stupid back then, but that’s not who I am now.” He grabs my hands again and peers down at them, rubbing my kn
uckles with his thumb. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  The comfort, the special kind I’ve only ever received from him, reaches deep into my soul and forces the sob from my throat as I retract my hand.

  I pull it from him and stand.

  I don’t say a word for fear I won’t be able to leave. But I have to, for now, anyway. It’s the right thing to do.

  “I’m not letting you go, Jersey.”

  I stop with my back to him.

  “I’m going to fight like hell to win you over. Be ready.”

  It’s a promise.

  One I need him to keep.

  Chapter Thirty

  SAGE

  “Sage?”

  I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “Sage?” the voice repeats, then a hand gently nudges my shoulder, shaking me awake.

  “Naomi?” I squint, trying to bring her into focus. “What day is it?”

  “Wow.” She sits on the couch next to me. “You must’ve really been out.”

  I keep my eyes closed, thinking back to last weekend.

  Vegas.

  Taylor’s bachelorette party.

  They had shots. So many lemon drop shots, while I sat back, making excuses as to why I wasn’t drinking. Once Taylor started to guilt-trip me that it was her bachelorette party, and I should join their fun, I had to use logic against them. That we were in a strange city, and one of us had to stay sober to keep the others in line.

  Which wasn’t a bad idea, actually.

  I finally got the chance to meet Catherine and thank her for being the encouraging mentor she was to Taylor. It’s because of her that Taylor’s the mentor she is to me now. I thought I knew a lot about this industry, and I do, but with Taylor’s guidance, I’ve learned to apply many of my skills on a new scale. Plus, I’ve made many connections that will be invaluable as I build my career.

  Frankly, I’ve been able to level up, as Aiden might say—he loves his video games.

  I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. When I open them again, a sharp pain slices through my forehead. “Damn it.” I squeeze my eyes closed again.

  “What’s wrong?” She touches my head with the back of her hand. “Are you nauseated? Cramping? Do you—”

  “No, nothing like that.” I open and close my eyes, cautious of setting off another jolt of pain. “It’s been a hell of a week. I had to go straight to work after we got back from Vegas, and it’s been one thing after another each day. Even if I wasn’t almost seven weeks pregnant, I’d be exhausted.” I glance around me, noticing my purse on the floor. It’s on its side, and the contents have spilled out. “Guess it all caught up to me, and I passed out before I made it to my room.”

  Naomi continues studying my eyes and feels my lymph nodes.

  “I’ll catch up on sleep this weekend. I’m fine.”

  “Please, take it easy.” She sighs, sitting back, and rests her elbow on the back of the couch. “Talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say,” I whisper.

  “What’s going on with Aiden? Have you spoken to him since you told him you needed space?”

  “No.” My face falls, and my crushing loneliness threatens to devour me.

  I miss him. His intensity. His eyes. Even how infuriating he can be.

  “He’s called and texted, but I don’t know… I asked for space, and he hasn’t gone a single day without trying to reach me.”

  “What did you expect? Seems like he’s just a guy in love.”

  I scoff, then go to stand, but Naomi pulls me back.

  “Let me tell you a story.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “A story about you?”

  “Don’t be so shocked. I talk about myself plenty.”

  “That couldn’t be more false.” I nudge her.

  “Well, get comfortable.” She peers down at her slender fingers, fidgeting with her chipped nails. “When I was in college, my best friend’s name was Charlie. She’s the one I’ve mentioned before, but I never told you what happened.”

  “Okay…”

  “We were twenty-one-year-old art students. We went to Coney Island on spontaneous trips. Every now and then, we’d get high. We partied. Laughed—we laughed a lot. She was a hit everywhere we went.” She rubs her palms down her scrubs. “We didn’t think about death. We weren’t supposed to, not then.”

  Chills run down to my toes.

  I gulp, and through my fear, I manage to ask, “What happened to her?”

  “We were supposed to meet one night to study for our exam, but I was running late, so she went to pick up snacks and coffee…” She pauses, tears in her eyes as she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me,” she whispers.

  “No, Naomi, no.” I scoot closer to her.

  “She was… my best friend. Charlie was shot and killed that night.”

  “Oh my God.” I wrap my arms around her, shocked. “Naomi, I had no idea.”

  “I got there as the ambulance shut its doors. The blue and red lights. The caution tape. It was a nightmare. No one would say anything other than a young woman was shot and killed. And I knew even before I got to the hospital that it was Charlie. I knew.” She licks her lips as she pulls back, then swipes under her eye at a tear. “Her brother Ty… he’s the exotic dancer for Naked Heat I told you about.”

  “Oh…” Understanding dawns as I recall the male revue show we attended for Taylor’s bachelorette party after Naomi suggested it, but she never mentioned how she knew any of the guys. “Ty… he was the one with the tattoos?”

  “A bunch of tattoos. My weakness.” She gives me a small smile, but then her expression darkens. “He and I got close afterward. We formed a connection. A bond. No one else understood, but we did. We got each other, and I became addicted to it. To him. To the point where I thought I was in love with him.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Over a year ago, I even told him we should be together. We could have a future. I made an idiot of myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He found someone else, and I embarrassed myself.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  “But I did.” She exhales. “I tried to tear him away from her. I was the villain in their story, but… I was hurting.”

  “I’m sorry, Naomi.” My heart is heavy for her. She’s been struggling all this time.

  “Don’t be.” She waves me off, a strange peace settling around her as she continues. “It’s for the best. He did me a favor, anyway. Even though I was hurt, I eventually realized it wasn’t him I was in love with. I loved the idea of having someone understand. Sharing a unique connection with someone. But the truth is, our past, when we were together, it wasn’t real. We were caught up in the addiction of feeling seen.”

  “That’s all most of us want.”

  She exhales a shaky breath, shifting on the couch. “Our past is exactly that—history. When I told Ty how I felt, I got closure. Real closure. And although I couldn’t admit it at the time, it was truly a relief. I felt like I could finally move forward. Try to find someone real.”

  “And you will.”

  “Maybe.” Our eyes lock. “You and Aiden, though? I know I cautioned you a few weeks ago, but that was before I realized how well you two fit. No matter what happened in college, you have something real, now. You’re different people.”

  I exhale, my lungs feeling like they’re shriveling.

  “You’re mad and scared and so many other things, and I get it. I don’t blame you, but ask yourself if it’s enough to keep you apart. If it’s enough to keep you from trying to be a family. Be honest with yourself about your feelings, and if you need extra help”—she stands, holding her hands out for me to stand too—“write.”

  “Write,” I repeat as if I’m trying a new food, rolling it on my tongue, seeing how it tastes.

  And I like it.

  “No matter what we’re feeling, art is how some of us express ourselves and take a deeper look into our psyche. Every emotion sw
eeps onto the page with every brush or pencil stroke. Every word. Every image. It’s a tapestry of our lives in that moment.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” I fight the lump in my throat.

  She nods to my room. “Then write.”

  When I reach my door, my mind still troubled from her past yet more optimistic for our future, I stop with my hand on the knob. “Do you ever paint anymore?”

  She hugs her midsection. She’s unusually meek, almost fragile, and my heart breaks all over again. “Sometimes, especially when I want to be close to Charlie.” She shrugs, offering me a sad smile. “But now, I mostly throw myself into my career. Nursing is how I deal with my loss, the guilt of what happened, and who I turned into after that. But helping people gives me the purpose I so desperately need.”

  I nod, understanding where she’s coming from. “Thanks… for sharing that. I know what it’s like to suffer alone, and I’m sorry you do too. You’ve been there for me, and I hope you know you don’t have to be alone anymore, either. We have each other, right? Family?”

  “Friends.” Naomi smiles. “We’re more than family who’s usually obligated to love each other. We’re friends who choose to do so.”

  I grin, thankful that the mess in my life brought me back to her after years of distance.

  “Now, get out of here. I’ve talked more in the last hour than I have all week, and I’m exhausted from all this wisdom I’m spewing.”

  Laughing, I hold my hands up, inching into my room. “And I have to pee because… pregnancy bladder.”

  She chuckles, making me smile harder.

  Naomi’s wise words swirl in my head as I retrieve my notebook from my nightstand. My urge to write is strong. I need to let the words and emotions out of the cage they’ve been rattling for years.

  Like I wouldn’t think twice to take my next breath, I don’t think about the perfect way to begin. I don’t spend hours contemplating the flow, the rhythm, the line breaks to create riveting enjambment.

  I simply write.

  As the night sky deepens, the minutes tick, the neighbors surely put dinner on the table, I continue writing until my hand cramps—and then write some more.