Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel

by Georgia Coffman

  She turns her attention back to me. “You make it sound like you’re corrupt. Like a drug dealer.”

  “Nah, I keep the drugs for myself. I don’t like to sell.”

  She giggles, obviously aware that I’m kidding, then dips her head and takes another bite of her burger. Again, I watch her every movement. Her curved jaw narrows as she chews. Her hair seems lighter out here.

  I want to know everything about her.

  What sports she plays, if any. Where she got the scar on her wrist. If she has any tattoos.

  We’ve started these picnics a couple times a week, and I hope we continue because I can’t stop myself from wanting to curb this aching—and highly inappropriate—curiosity.

  She opens her mouth to say something—

  “You started without me?” Dave plops down and gives her a kiss on the cheek. She blushes, and for reasons I can’t admit out loud, I want to punch my friend in the mouth.

  I swallow down the memory like I’ve been doing all week as new ones continue to surface. I click on her name, then open a new text before I change my mind.

  Me: Are you settled in yet? You never told me where you’re staying.

  Westin calls out to me from the corner with Lila. “Aiden, we need your Einstein-sized brain over here, so we can finish up and go home.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Jared’s voice rings out as he audibly sighs over squeaking noises. He’s obviously getting comfortable on his air mattress, having taken us up on our suggestion to sleep here. The last couple mornings have been more pleasant too, without his whining.

  I set my phone next to my keyboard and stand, tapping my fingers against my leg as I make my way over.

  And wait for Sage’s response like I’m expecting an answer to a marriage proposal.

  One I never had the chance to offer her before she accepted my friend’s.

  Chapter Four

  SAGE

  I shuffle boxes around my room and think up a plan for where it will all go. My first month here was spent interviewing for jobs—it was my priority. Now that I have one, I finally have free time to finish unpacking, but with so little space, it’s hard to find room for everything.

  Luckily, I don’t have too many things.

  I take in the few boxes littering the floor and the unmade bed—I need to organize and clean and settle in.

  As I pick a box to open, I’m thankful again that Naomi let me move in here to begin with. I figured she was simply that desperate for help with rent after her last roommate moved out.

  My relationship with Naomi became strained during my marriage to Dave. But since our divorce, she’s met me halfway to make amends.

  And living with her, having someone who knows the city, has been a godsend.

  I grab a few romance novels from inside the box. It’s been years since I read a book, especially a love story. They kept me sane during college, giving me the occasional reprieve from studying, and I enjoyed them, once. I used to enjoy romance and all its wonder of happily ever afters. A wonder that has remained as such because I never experienced it myself, even though at one point, I thought I had.

  Since Dave and Aiden, I’m questioning the notion of true love altogether.

  I turn a couple books over in my hands and snicker.

  “Fucking romance,” I mumble, then organize them on my small shelf along with my limited collection of mysteries.

  I jump when one lands with a thud on the floor, and a folded piece of paper falls out like a long-forgotten love note.

  “What the…” I mutter, leaning down to pick them both up.

  The book is a romance novel with a cover of a lone woman, and her head isn’t showing. I tuck it under my shoulder, then unfold the piece of paper, and once I scan the writing there, my shoulders sag. My whole body deflates as I sink to the floor.

  Sitting cross-legged by my bed, I recall the day I wrote this, saddened again that I spent so many years married to a man who didn’t support me or my dreams.

  Who didn’t truly love me for who I was.

  Smoothing the piece of paper on the scuffed floor, I run my shaking hand over the list as I read.

  1. Go parasailing

  2. Learn French

  3. Go to a poetry festival

  4. Live in New York

  5. Take a cooking class

  There are seven more items, but my eyes blur with unshed tears, feeling like I didn’t write these things at all. The handwriting is mine, but I don’t recognize it. I don’t recognize these goals I once listed on a piece of paper like a grocery list. I was sure I’d tick off each item like I was buying bread and coffee. That they were as simple.

  I laugh to myself in my empty bedroom, my tears still streaming.

  I was in high school and naïve when I made this list.

  It was about a month before Dave and I started dating.

  Before I settled down with someone I believed to be my dream but turned out to be a nightmare.

  I’d throw the list away or hide it back in the book, but it seems wrong to do so. Instead, I shove it in my pocket and get back to unpacking as my mind races.

  Dave’s brother stopped me at a gas station once and seemed stunned that we split up. “Sorry to hear about you and my brother,” he said like he was offering his condolences—as if someone died.

  And maybe part of me had.

  Dave’s yells echo through my head.

  Whore.

  Cheater.

  Bitch.

  Our hometown in North Carolina was too small for both of us. One run-in at the grocery store proved that much.

  I was humiliated.

  I lift my head when the front door lock jimmies open, and Naomi walks in, her arms full of groceries.

  Standing from the floor, I waddle toward her, my legs wobbly from sitting too long. The apartment is so small, it’s basically two steps from my room to her in the kitchen.

  “Let me help.” I grab a couple bags, but our fingers get intertwined, and one falls to the floor. “Oh! Sorry,” I mumble. “Here, let me… get that…” On my hands and knees, I chase the stray fruit and boxes of noodles.

  “Sage, it’s fine. I’ll get them.” Naomi sets the bags on the counter and crouches down to help.

  From this angle, I notice the spots on her scrubs. What bodily liquids are they? I fight my urge to dry heave.

  “Gotcha,” she whispers to the runaway orange, her tongue out as if she’s a cat after a mouse.

  “How was work?” I ask as we both stand.

  Her brown hair is wild with naturally tight curls. She tucks one side behind her ear, but it doesn’t stay. She smooths her top, running her hands over the stains without flinching. After all, it’s her norm. She’s been a nurse for several years now.

  Which is also why she usually has dark circles under her eyes.

  We unpack the groceries as she answers, “Fine. Had another twelve-hour shift, so I’m about to go pass the fuck out.” She sounds like a zombie with her monotonous tone. “How’s your week going?”

  I bite my lip, focusing on unloading the bags. “It’s been good so far, aside from this one girl at work—Piper. She’s been difficult, but I try to avoid her. We don’t work closely together, anyway, so it’s been easy. Besides, there are plenty of others who have been amazing. Maya—she’s another publicist at the firm—she says the funniest stuff.”

  Naomi nods, then opens the fridge to put away the cold items.

  I sigh. “I’m still getting used to being a contributing member of society again. A few short months without work felt like years.”

  She makes a noncommittal sound.

  I hand her the carton of almond milk to put away and continue, “I miss being my own boss. Don’t get me wrong, this new job is amazing with a lot of room for growth, and I knew I’d have to start at the bottom when I got here. I just… I don’t know.” I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. How did my life get so messed up?

  “It’ll take time, but you
’ll get used to it. Be patient. Besides, without Dave, you should have no problem moving up the corporate ladder. He’s not here to screw it all up for you.” She shuts the refrigerator door, all the groceries put away, and pats my hand. As she does, she gives me the look of pity I’ve been so desperately trying to escape. In a new city, where no one knows me, no one pities me.

  I can just be me—whoever that is.

  But with Naomi, I can’t run away from what happened with my ex.

  “Have you told him you moved yet?” she asks.

  “No. He did text me the other day to meet for coffee, though. Said he wanted to apologize for what happened.” I shrug. “I was vague and simply said I couldn’t.”

  “Good for you. I mean, how do you apologize for screaming at your ex in the middle of the coffee aisle?” She scoffs.

  I wince. Dave’s face was red. Angry. The specks of spit hit my cheek as he yelled in my face for being a cheater, even though I never cheated on him.

  Still, he yelled like I was the gum beneath his shoe. While people pretended not to notice, he screamed and gripped my arm to keep me from running. Finally, the store manager had to ask us to leave. I dropped the bottled water and snacks I held and rushed out, my cheeks on fire from anger and humiliation.

  I’d never felt so weak. I vowed that night to never let a man make me feel that way again.

  Naomi squeezes my forearm—it’s the best she can do. Even on great terms, she’s not one to show too much emotion.

  But we’re still working on fixing our relationship, and it’s getting better, which makes me feel less alone.

  This situation is complicated, though.

  She never liked Dave, so she’s happy we’re no longer married, but the reason she didn’t like him is still an issue. He put distance between my family and me. Manipulated me, convincing me that he was the only one who cared about me, and as young and vulnerable as I was, I believed him.

  I fought for him.

  I took his side because I thought he was all I had.

  All the while, he drove a wedge between Naomi and me.

  In silence, she walks to the couch, and I survey the refrigerator for a few minutes. “What do you want for dinner?”

  I peer over the refrigerator door to find her feet dangling off the end of the couch and her arms resting on top of her head.

  “Naomi?”

  A snore answers me, then silence.

  She’s asleep.

  I shrug and grab a pack of raw chicken from the top shelf. “Chicken and rice it is,” I whisper to myself and get to work.

  As the chicken cooks and the night sky stretches across the city outside, I check the new message on my phone.

  Aiden: Are you settled in yet? You never told me where you’re staying.

  I almost drop the phone.

  I blink at the screen to make sure I’m reading it correctly, but sure enough, it’s Aiden. His name hasn’t popped up on my screen like this since we were in college, when it was an everyday occurrence.

  I missed that… even though I shouldn’t.

  My thumbs tremble as I type out a response.

  Me: I’m living in Jersey City.

  I add a smiley face and hit send.

  Aiden: Like you always wanted.

  Tears well in my eyes again. He always supported me and my dreams, no matter how wild or seemingly asinine. We’d lie back, staring at the stars, sharing our hopes for the future as though if we told the sky, it would make them come true.

  It was our thing. We’d spread a blanket out on the grass between our dorms, eat greasy fast food, and talk over soft music.

  And each minute we spent together, no matter how simple, he made me feel invincible. It was one of the many things that drew me to him.

  I flip the chicken, then chew on my fingernail, peering out the open window at the glistening river in the moonlight. Outside, even though it’s late, car doors slam, horns echo, and muffled chatter from people on their balconies seep in through the cracks. New York City is a stark contrast from my hometown—a jungle to a meadow in comparison.

  And I welcome the chaotic change. It’s an adjustment, but the beginning of something special. I can feel it.

  I flip the chicken again and turn back to my phone. I want to ask Aiden why he moved here. He mentioned his temporary job, but why New York? That was always my fantasy, not his.

  But I can’t bring myself to ask him something so personal and intimate.

  I don’t even know him anymore, and I haven’t in years.

  Me: Do you like living here?

  Aiden: I do. It’s been a whirlwind since I got here, but all good things.

  Me: It was nice to see you last week, and I’m happy for you.

  Aiden: Let’s meet for drinks tomorrow. No beer, though.

  I giggle, relaxing my hip against the counter.

  Me: LOL. Remember the Bud Lite I tried that ended up on my dress?

  Aiden: You smelled like beer all night and then offended your roommate.

  Me: She was offended by everything, even the fact that I wore red lipstick. Said it was satanic.

  Aiden: How dare you bring the devil into your dorm room.

  Me: Guess I was the wild child my mom always warned me against. *eye roll*

  I gulp, standing upright. This is too natural. Too similar to the way we once were.

  But I know better.

  Aiden: Meet me for drinks.

  I fish my bucket list out of my pocket. The sizzling chicken muffles the crinkles as I unfold the paper, but the list screams at me above it.

  I could make something of myself here, where no one knows me.

  He’s a client now, Taylor’s words echo in my head.

  She was right when she said Aiden and I have a history, but she doesn’t know the half of it.

  How can I go to drinks with Aiden and not let it affect my work?

  He was my best friend in college. Dave’s best friend too.

  And the aftermath…

  “I like you. I fought it. I fought my feelings for you as much as I could, but I can’t do it anymore.”

  I not only remember his confession but the pain and guilt in his voice too. If we would’ve gotten together, we would’ve risked our friendship, betrayed Dave, and never been the same. He put it all on the line, anyway.

  But he thought I didn’t return his affections. That I couldn’t feel the same.

  And he ran before I could explain.

  He always ran.

  It made me turn to the man who stayed. Who promised to love me forever.

  Now, fate has brought Aiden and me together again, threatening my present.

  But I’m determined to keep the past from ruining my future.

  Chapter Five

  SAGE

  I said no.

  I told Aiden I wouldn’t meet him for drinks. Instead of being the adult I thought I was by now, I lied and told him I’d promised Naomi we’d do something since it’s her only night off this week.

  At least the last part is true.

  At work, I organize Taylor’s calendars, draft social media posts to run by her, and sort account files. They got sloppy before my arrival, during the time when Taylor was without an assistant, but they’re organized now.

  Exhaling, I sit at my desk to answer the phone—a client who wants to reschedule a meeting.

  “Please hold while I check the calendar for her availability.” I click to the right date and find that the time they’ve requested is open.

  Once we confirm the change, I nod as if they’re in front of me. “Thank you, and have a nice day.”

  I just hang the phone up when Piper seemingly appears out of nowhere and sits on the edge of my desk, pushing over my pen holder. “Oops,” she says, her voice nasally and unapologetic. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine. Thanks.” I give her a tight-lipped smile as I gather the pens and set them in an upright holder.

  “Must be hard, given your background.”


  I freeze. “What do you mean?”

  “Working as someone’s assistant? When you were your own boss once upon a time? How tragic to downgrade.”

  The hairs on my arms stand.

  Her red lips twitch, obviously smug. “Word travels fast, as does this job. Even with your experience, it’s not what you’re used to, honey. Keep up.”

  “I’m right where I want to be, doing exactly as I’m supposed to and more.” I grind my teeth.

  She stands, tapping her long fingernails against my desk, then flips her dark hair over her shoulder. “If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m right over there”—she points to her office in the corner of the suite—“and I have more experience than most people here, so I can answer all of your questions.” She winks, clearly making a dig at Taylor.

  “Cute blue bra,” Taylor mumbles sarcastically from behind me.

  “Excuse me?” Piper spits.

  Taylor pushes off her doorframe, pointing to her chest. “You missed a button.”

  “That’s not an accident, darling.” She rolls her eyes, but as she walks away, I catch her smoothing a hand over her chest like she’s self-conscious.

  “Rat,” Taylor mutters.

  I cover my laugh with my hand.

  “If she starts bothering you, please let me know. She’s been a real chore since she found out her boyfriend cheated on her.”

  “That’s awful.”

  She scoffs. “I’d feel bad too if that boyfriend wasn’t Catherine’s ex-fiancé. She walked in on Piper screwing him a few months before his wedding to Catherine.”

  “Wow.” I raise my eyebrows.

  “She’s always been a conniving bitch, but she’s worse lately. Anyway, don’t fall for her fake niceties.” She stares after Piper’s retreating form, even after she disappears into her office. “I’ve been itching to take her down. I promised Catherine I would, but I need to gather more ammo.”