Saved (A Standalone Romance) (A Savery Brother Book)

by Naomi Niles

  “Deal,” said Ren, a smile in her voice. “I know you don’t have the job yet, but I figure it’s only a matter of a few days.”

  “We’ll consider this a preemptive celebration. Is that the right word? Preemptive?”

  “No, doofus,” she said with a laugh. “If it was preemptive, we would be trying to stop something from happening. Presumably, you’re not trying to sabotage this job opportunity or my book deal.”

  “No, not at all,” I said quickly.

  “Okay, good. I’ll pick you up around six when I get off work.”

  She hung up.

  As soon as I finished breakfast, I called Randy and told him I was having women’s troubles, a tactic that proved no less effective than it had when I was fourteen. I spent the rest of the morning shopping for a new suit, ultimately settling on a gray Worthington blazer, a matching skirt, and a red blouse.

  Elated with my purchase and the crisp afternoon air, I called Braxton. He was on lunch break and only had a few minutes before he had to be back at training, but he listened attentively as I told him about the interview.

  “It’s all happening so fast. They want me to come tomorrow morning, and I’ve already taken the day off.”

  “Does Carruthers know?”

  “No, I still haven’t told him about the interview.” I rubbed at the back of my neck with a hot, prickly feeling. “I suppose I’ll have to tell him eventually, but that can wait. I don’t want to break his heart just yet.”

  “Just make sure you don’t wait too long.”

  “I won’t. I’ll think of a way to tell him. Maybe I’ll surprise him with champagne.”

  “Well, anyway,” he said, “I think you’re a boss worker, and I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” No matter how often he said it, I never got tired of hearing it. I could live forever on the glow of his compliments. “And we’ll have even more reason to celebrate this weekend when you win your big fight.”

  “If I win,” said Braxton nervously. “I’m not making any promises.”

  “It’s Bones, though. You helped beat him last time.”

  “Yes, and this time he’ll be ready for me. I think he knows I was the engineer of his last defeat, and now he’s out for blood.”

  “Well, you can’t let him have it,” I said, “but I believe in you.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, his voice radiating sincerity. “I believe in you, too.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Braxton

  “Braxton, you have to focus. If you let your concentration slip, he’ll destroy you easily.”

  It was Wednesday afternoon. Nick and I had spent the last couple hours practicing, but toward the end, my mind had begun to wander. Jaimie had gone for her interview that morning, and I still hadn’t heard from her. And my thoughts kept drifting irresistibly back to our weekend trip.

  “Are you even listening?” asked Nick, his face flustered. “Maybe we should just call it a day.”

  “I lost my concentration about an hour ago, sorry.” I tore off my gloves. “It would probably help if I had eaten something before coming in. Right now, I could really go for a large burrito slathered in guacamole.”

  “Lord, yes.” Nick patted his belly with a woeful expression. “Growing up, there were times when my dad couldn’t afford to feed us, and I promised myself that if I ever moved out on my own, I would never go hungry. But I keep skipping meals like someone who’s not used to eating.”

  “Do you think it would help if we went grocery shopping?” I asked as we entered the locker room where a warm mist was seeping from the showers. “We spend so much money each week eating out. Maybe plunking down a few hundred dollars for pasta and rice would be a better investment.”

  “I keep telling myself that, but at the end of the day I get lazy and figure it would be easier just to run by Carl’s Jr. Even though I know for a fact that eating out is more expensive and I would be saving hundreds of dollars a month by shopping at Aldi or wherever.”

  “Is there an Aldi in Boulder?”

  “No, that’s just my go-to example. Another problem I have is forgetting that lack of food can affect one’s concentration.” Removing a fleece towel from his locker, he ran it over his neck and back. “I didn’t grow up with food, so I’m a little ignorant of its benefits.”

  “Well, here’s a clue,” I said. “If you haven’t eaten all day, it becomes really hard to focus on anything else. I have to remind Jaimie of that all the time.”

  “Do you really?”

  “I do. Sometimes I have to bring her lunch because she forgets to pack one for herself or gets so busy working that she can’t go out. Last week, we met up for drinks at happy hour, and I asked her when was the last time she had eaten. She couldn’t remember. She eventually realized she hadn’t eaten since the day before.”

  Nick winced. “Why are we all so bad at taking care of ourselves?”

  “I don’t know. I think it might be a generational thing. Nobody our age has a lot of money, so we end up skimping on groceries and other necessities. With housing prices being the way they are, there’s not a whole lot left over once we pay rent. If we even manage to pay that.”

  “It’s a real problem.” Nick stepped into the shower with his shorts on and turned on the water full-blast, enveloping the room in steam. “I’ll gladly pledge my vote to the first politician who promises an increase in real wages or an end to the housing crisis. It’s getting to the point where only the very rich can even afford to buy apartments. Soon, we’ll all be living out on the streets, lighting fires in tall garbage cans to keep warm.”

  “Yeah.” I was scrolling through my phone, only half paying attention. “Hey, did you get this email?”

  Nick splashed foamy scented soap over his chest. “What email?”

  “It’s from Coach. Looks like he wants us to submit to a drug test this afternoon ‘in advance of the rumble on Saturday.’ I guess it’s a good thing I never accepted Bruce’s offer.”

  Nick’s eyes widened, and he became oddly quiet.

  “Anyway,” I added, returning my phone to my pocket, “I’m impressed with how well you’ve been doing during training. A few weeks ago, you couldn’t have taken me on by yourself, but you put up a real fight during practice. You’re almost as good as me now.”

  “I suppose I should accept that as the compliment it was apparently intended to be,” said Nick.

  “Yeah, totally.” Coach was allowing him to compete in the match preceding mine on Saturday, and he had been practicing without interruption for most of the past week in order to get ready. “Jaimie just texted me and asked me to come over. Do you want me to pick you up anything on my way back?”

  “No,” Nick said miserably. “I’ll just run by Carl’s Jr.”

  I left him standing in the shower looking tense and fearful. Outside it was a breezy spring day, and the wind carried the whiff of freshly mowed grass. I bought burritos for me and Jaimie and took the expressway to her house, marveling all the while at the cloudless blue sky.

  She opened the door before I even had the chance to knock.

  “Hey, come in!” Her eyes widened as they fell on the bag in my hand. “Did you bring enough for us to share?”

  “Nope, only for me.” I thrust the bag into her hands and set down my keys on the coffee table. “How did your interview go?”

  “Could not have gone better!” she exclaimed, clapping between each word. “I think it was my jokes that won them over. They absolutely loved my nerdy math jokes.”

  “That’ll do it. So did you get the job?”

  “I did, actually. I don’t know why I was so surprised when they came in and told me they were giving me the position. I actually started crying.”

  “In front of them?”

  “Yes…” She grimaced with all her teeth. “But also, there’s some bad news. Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you.”

  “They’re mandating that you go out with you
r new boss and we have to break up?”

  “No! It’s not that bad.” She led me into the kitchen and sat down at the island in the center of the room. “They want me to start Thursday, which means I won’t be accompanying Randy to the match this weekend. Again, I’m really sorry.”

  I tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Shame. I was really hoping for a repeat of our last rendezvous.”

  “I’ll be happy if I never have to relive that night again.” She laughed, but I could tell she was being completely serious.

  “Will you at least be able to watch it?”

  “I’m planning to. Ren and I are already talking about having a viewing party that night. Maybe cooking some fajitas and splitting a bottle of wine. It’s been a good couple of weeks for the two of us.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” She had called me drunk the night before and asked if I could drive the two of them home from Fish City Grill. “What does Randy think about your new job? Surely he can’t be happy that they want you to start in two days.”

  Jaimie’s face fell, and she hugged her stomach miserably. “I, umm, still haven’t told him.”

  “Jaimie, when are you planning on telling him?” I exclaimed, incredulous.

  Jaimie slumped over face-first onto the countertop as though wishing she was asleep. “I’ll do it, I promise. I have to do it by tomorrow at the latest. Tomorrow is my last day, although he doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Aren’t you legally required to give a two-week's notice?”

  She sat up and shook her head. “That’s a professional courtesy, but it’s not mandated. I’m just not looking forward to breaking his sad heart.”

  “You’ve become like a daughter to him over the past couple of years.”

  “I know, and I’m afraid this is going to utterly crush him. But I can’t avoid it. I would be a fool to pass up this opportunity just because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. There’s a time when you have to do what’s best for yourself.”

  “I hear that.” I unscrewed the lid on the guacamole container and slathered it all over my burrito. “But this isn’t the end of your friendship. You can still visit him. Make sure he knows that you’re not dying.”

  “I’ll invite him out for lunch next week,” said Jaimie. “Maybe I’ll even introduce him to my new boss. She’s hilarious.”

  “At least the hardest part of your week is almost over. You’ll have to text me tomorrow and let me know how he takes it.”

  “Oh, I will—if I survive it.” She poked unhappily at her burrito with a fork. “Would you like to stay and hang out for a bit after lunch?”

  “I can’t, sweetie.” Jaimie looked crestfallen. “Maybe some other week, but I have to be back in the gym for training. This is going to be the biggest match I’ve ever fought.”

  I went on eating while Jaimie frowned at her plate. Although I would never have told her this, I had a feeling she wanted to do more than just “hang out,” and I couldn’t risk losing “the Warrior” right before a big match. It might be just a silly superstition, but I wasn’t going to chance it this close to the fight.

  “Well, anyway,” I said, rolling up my trash and tossing it into the blue recycling bin, “I really need to get going. Sorry I couldn’t stay longer, but it was good eating with you.”

  “Good eating with you, too,” said Jaimie, though she continued to look mournful as she walked me out the door to my car.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jaimie

  “I don’t believe this,” said Randy in a low voice. “It’s just incredible.”

  He tilted his computer screen so I could see it. “It says here that when manatees dive underwater, they can hold their breath for upwards of twenty minutes. I can’t even hold my breath for more than a few seconds. And apparently, when they exhale, ninety percent of the air in their lungs is replaced, compared to—what does it say?—ten percent for humans.”

  “Sir.” I didn’t want to say what I was about to say, but there was no avoiding it. “There’s something we have to talk about, and I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

  With a look of concern, Randy turned the screen back around and gave me his full attention.

  “And just know,” I said, “that nothing I’m about to say reflects badly on you. This is in no way a criticism of your management. But I’ve been offered a job with an independent record label.” I waited a beat before adding, “And I said yes.”

  Randy drew in a deep breath, his face inscrutable. “And are they offering you a higher starting salary?”

  “They are.”

  He clapped his hands together, just once. “Well, that’s fantastic news! Wherever you go, I want you to prosper and be happy. When do you start?”

  I grimaced guiltily. “Tomorrow morning.”

  It took Randy a moment to absorb this news. “Well, I wish you had told me sooner. We could’ve spent the last couple weeks hiring and training your replacement.”

  “I know, and I thought of that, and I’m sorry to have disappointed you, but it all happened so fast. I emailed this application on Thursday night and got called in for an interview on Tuesday morning. I went in, and they almost immediately gave me the job. I think they were so impressed with my resume that the interview was just a formality.”

  “They must have been,” said Randy. “They never even called me asking for a recommendation. That’s why this is kind of a shock.”

  A small box of glazed apple cinnamon muffins sat on the corner of the desk. He took one and bit into it thoughtfully. “It’s okay,” he said, half to himself. “I think tomorrow morning will be the hardest. Just walking in here and seeing you’re not at your desk. That’s going to take some getting used to.”

  Remembering what Ren had said the day before, I hastened to add, “I’m not dying. I’ll still be around, and you’ll still see me every now and again.”

  Randy frowned skeptically.

  “Look, if it helps,” I said, “we can arrange to meet for lunch once a week. That’s what I did after I left my first job in college. My boss was a middle-aged British woman who had spent the last twenty years in America but still retained her accent. She would bring me coffee and cookies—she called them biscuits—and ask about my life. She actually cried when I announced I was quitting. Not wanting to lose touch, she invited me to dinner at her house one night a week until I moved to Boulder.”

  “She sounds lovely,” said Randy, not looking me in the eyes.

  “She truly was. My point is that this doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. It may help to think of it as another beginning.”

  He repeated the words back to himself as though trying to memorize them. Crumpling up the wrapper of the muffin, he threw it into a wastebasket.

  “In the week after Joy died,” he said, “there was a night when I was sitting in her old rocking chair by the fire going through one of our old scrapbook albums. And a sudden chill swept through the room and the fire dimmed, just for a moment. And I got the distinct impression that she was sitting right next to me.

  “It may sound crazy to put it this way, but it felt like there were several things she wanted me to know. One was that death hadn’t been the end of her life and it wasn’t the end of our relationship. The other thing was that she was safe now. I felt her conveying that so strongly: just the reassurance that she was safe. That I no longer had to worry about her.

  “Now, I’m sure there are rational explanations for what I felt that night. Clearly, I was grieving and would have latched onto any viable source of comfort. But you try looking into the eyes of a man who’s just had that experience, and tell him that he’s deluded, and that he’ll never see his wife again. See where that gets you.”

  He waited, as though half-expecting me to object, but I said nothing.

  “There was another night, not very long after, when Joy came and spoke to me in a dream. In the dream, we were in a walled garden, and she was wearing a white silken
dress with a garland of purple flowers in her hair. She looked, somehow, even more beautiful than she had in life. And we talked for about an hour, and I don’t even really remember all the specifics of what we talked about, but I remember waking up with a tremendous feeling of assurance, and a line from an old poem drifting through my head: ‘To die is different from what anyone supposed, and better.’”

  “Mmmm.” I had always been skeptical of these ghostly encounters, but I wasn’t about to interrupt when he was speaking with such conviction.

  “And I still think of that dream whenever I have to say goodbye to anyone,” he went on. “It helps to remember that if death can’t end a relationship, then neither can a change in employment or a move across the country. We’re all of us indissolubly bound together, living and dead. We all share the burden and joy of being human.”

  “That’s beautiful, Randy.” Feeling moved in spite of myself, I reached my hand across the desk and took the tips of his fingers in mine. “Thank you.”

  “So,” he said, breaking away and leaning back with a relaxed air, “consult with your new boss and find out when she’s available to have lunch. In the meantime, I’ll make tentative plans for next Thursday. I want to give you at least a week to get settled in.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  The next morning was drizzly and damp, and a blue mist lingered over the streets and obscured the street lights. I arrived at the record label at the precise time of day when I would normally have been bringing Randy his coffee and croissant. A benevolently beaming woman wearing a plain gray suit led me on a tour of the grounds that ended at my new office. Here from the window of the fourth floor, I had a perfect view of the serenity garden at the front of the building and the playground across the street, all shrouded in a thin layer of mist.

  A blonde girl wearing a knee-length skirt, her hair done up in curls like the heroine of a Regency romance, came skipping briskly toward me. Extending her hand eagerly, she said, “Hi, I’m Eleanor.”

  “Jaimie.” I shook her hand with vigor. “A pleasure.”