Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel

by Georgia Coffman

  “This is urgent. I need to know when you’re coming to visit. We haven’t seen you in years.”

  “Not years, although that’s also what Mom says.”

  I talked to my mom a couple weeks ago, and our call went about the same way as it always does—with thirty minutes of her asking when I’m coming to visit.

  And it crushes me when I constantly have to say I’m working, but it’s true. I can’t take off to Virginia. We’ve been doing beta tests for ages, and we’re nearing the end now.

  I call and text as often as I can, but the truth is, I miss them too.

  I move forward in line. “Mia, you know I’m busy with the launch.”

  “What about after that? We can do a Labor Day weekend getaway where we meet you halfway. You wouldn’t have to travel all the way down to Virginia, and I’d be able to get a normal cup of coffee other than the sewage Randy serves.”

  The sound of something as familiar as Randy instantly warms my chest. Although I’m glad I moved away, my hometown will always hold a special part of me.

  “What do you say?” Mia presses.

  I pause, moving in line again. “I say… I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s what I like to hear, big brother. Talk soon.”

  Click.

  Once I grab two coffees, I head back toward our office building as Westin comes out. We meet on the sidewalk by the revolving door, and I hand him his black coffee.

  “You were taking too long, so I thought I’d meet you out here. Everything okay?”

  “Sure.” I point behind me to the coffee truck. “Long line, and my sister Mia called.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Asking you to come visit again?”

  I nod as we turn toward the street for a taxi. Once inside, my shoulders grow more and more tense with every block we pass. We’re meeting at CJJ instead of our offices this time.

  I have to see Jersey today and pretend that I don’t know her well enough to call her by a nickname. To pretend we can work smoothly together.

  I inwardly laugh at my cursed fate.

  When we enter, she’s the first person who catches my eye.

  She stands tall in a forest-green skirt that reaches her knees. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, out of her face, and her eyes pop.

  I bite back a curse.

  It shouldn’t be possible to be that devastatingly gorgeous. To have such natural beauty. I ball my fist at my side like I’m mad that she’s so pretty, but I know the truth.

  I’m mad that in a matter of a few interactions, she’s managed to make me feel as hopeless as I did all those years ago when I pined for her—pathetic.

  She said I forced her into Dave’s arms, but I know the truth. There’s no denying what I saw the summer after graduation, before I left for Europe.

  She fucking married him.

  It’s too late now, anyway. I have Raven, who chooses to love me every day, when all Sage did was string me along like a damn puppy.

  “Ease up,” Westin whispers, squeezing my shoulder. “You look like you’re ready to jump through that glass door.”

  “Can we just get this over with?” It comes out too harshly, and immediately, I regret it. It’s not Westin’s fault, after all.

  “If it isn’t the dream team.” Taylor walks toward us with Sage on her heels. Pointing toward the conference room, Taylor says, “Right this way. Would you like anything to drink before we get started?”

  Westin and I both ask for a water, and Sage nods, leaving us to grab a couple bottles.

  She scurries away like she’s running from me.

  And I hate how much it pisses me off.

  There was a time when we could spend hours together and not realize how long it had been. We’d get lost in conversation, a movie, music.

  But that was before.

  “How’s Jock Stock doing since we last spoke? Any changes?” Taylor asks as we take our seats at the long table, facing a projector screen at the front of the room.

  “We’ve been taking care of the snags, thanks to this guy.” He lightly punches my arm. “We were also tweeted by Aaron Rogers, which was a nice boost.” He shrugs, and I know him well enough to know he’s downplaying it because he’s modest.

  It wasn’t nice. It was huge.

  “I saw that.” Taylor beams, then jots something down. When she looks up again, a smile spreads across her face. “And I have more good news to go over with you.”

  Sage enters the room, tiptoeing inside like a mouse, and sets two water bottles in front of us and one in front of Taylor. Taking a seat next to Taylor across from us, she averts her gaze.

  She doesn’t look at me for the entire hour of our meeting as Taylor lists all the interviews she has set up for Westin and a few she’s still waiting to confirm.

  “Now, there is something I want to throw out there.” Taylor glances between Westin and me. “I know you refused before, but I’d like you to reconsider having Aiden join you in the interviews. He can answer more of the specific questions regarding the app and the algorithm.”

  I shake my head before she even gets the statement out.

  “Nothing good has come from me being in the spotlight,” I say. “We’ve gotten this far because I stay behind-the-scenes. The only reason I attend these meetings is because… well, because CJJ doesn’t harshly judge me on my background, or lack thereof.”

  “Jock Stock is doing well because of your contribution. I think you underestimate how much people care about your current success,” Taylor challenges.

  As brilliant as she is, she doesn’t understand the position I’ve repeatedly been in before, none of which ended with me looking good.

  Therefore, Jock Stock didn’t look good.

  “And you underestimate how much people care about your past.” I instinctively focus on Sage, and she stares back for the first time since I walked in.

  My gaze locks onto hers as Taylor says, “Please think about it because this next interview I scheduled will blow your minds, and I believe you’ll be crucial.” Taylor folds her hands on the table, building the anticipation. “Jenson Ross.”

  Even I sit up straighter, forgetting everything besides that name.

  Westin pauses, and I know that blank look—he’s trying to wrap his mind around the fact he’ll be interviewed by Jenson Ross himself.

  Sports mogul.

  His podcast is in the top five on iTunes and has an enormous reach—direct to our audience.

  In other words…

  “This is huge.” I slap Westin’s back to snap him out of his trance. He’s rarely speechless, but Taylor dropped a bomb to make Jock Stock explode like we’ve never even imagined.

  “This… this is why we hired you.” Westin slams his palms on the table. “Amazing. And now I need a year to prepare to speak to a man who’s easily my top idol.”

  “You have two weeks,” Taylor says.

  Westin and I both just about fall out of our chairs. “I’m sorry, what? Two weeks to prepare? Two weeks until—”

  She holds her hand up. “He is booked for the next several months, but he had a cancellation in two weeks. This will be fantastic publicity. Much better than if you went on his show right before the launch. This will also give us an in for connections to get the right people at the launch party. Trust me.” She speaks with conviction, and it’s hard not to believe in her. “I’ll help you guys and coach you.”

  Westin and I look at each other, then nod.

  “You’re going to be huge.” She and Sage both grin, and for a moment, I’m distracted by Sage.

  By the need to reach across the table and squeeze her hand. To share this milestone with her—my best friend.

  She hasn’t been in my life for years, but right now, I want her to be.

  Even though she doesn’t.

  Professional, I remind myself. She wants to keep things professional.

  Taylor goes over the growing list of journalists and influencers for our launch party’s guest l
ist.

  Toward the end of the meeting, Taylor moves to the last item on today’s agenda—social media updates—and turns to Sage, who stands and uses a clicker to open a few slides on the screen.

  “Here’s where we are.” She points to the slide using a laser. “Posts have been friendly but professional. Catchy, but not too much like a sales pitch. Your target audience is mostly male. According to a recent study, about eighty percent of fantasy sports users are male, white, and between the ages of eighteen and mid-thirties. We certainly want to capture their attention, which brings us to results.”

  She stands tall as she switches slides. Her voice is clear. Assertive. Confident.

  She’s breathtaking.

  She continues with her presentation, and I tense as if she’s talking dirty.

  “By studying the analytics of each post on Facebook, we’ve seen a one percent increase in reach and a two percent increase in engagement. As you can see”—she moves the pointer over the numbers—“we’ve gotten slightly better results for Twitter. Instagram is still in progress. Overall, it’s a small increase, but we’re staying consistent with posts and interactions. We’re optimistic that we’ll report even better numbers at our next meeting.”

  We all nod along with her.

  “Now, studies have also shown an increase in the number of women playing fantasy sports. Almost twenty percent of the users are female, so we’re targeting them as well. We’re tweaking ads and mailers to better fit the target, but we’re getting promising feedback on that front too.” She glances between us, making eye contact as she speaks. “We’ll send a follow-up email with this information as well, but this is to give you an update on our progress. If you see something you don’t like, blame it on Facebook. Everyone else does.” Sage smiles.

  A joke.

  She’s direct, with the right mix of light-hearted.

  She’s meant for more than her current position. Last I heard, she opened her own marketing firm in her hometown.

  This is New York City, but why is she starting at the bottom?

  Westin and I exchange glances.

  We’re headed in the right direction.

  This meeting has us fired up, and I’m sure neither of us will sleep for the next two weeks as we prepare for Jenson Ross and beyond.

  Once we thank them for their work and meeting with us, Sage stands to show us out. No matter how buzzed I am over this meeting, the fact she’s acting like we’re strangers grates on my every nerve. Anyone else might consider it professional, pleasant even, but it only makes me grind my teeth harder.

  Why does she get under my skin so fucking bad? Because I can’t figure her out? I’m sick—it’s the only explanation.

  Westin walks ahead of me to answer his phone, taking it outside, and Taylor heads back to her office.

  Everyone else bustles around the office, grabbing papers off the printer, while others are on the phone.

  No one’s paying us any attention, so I rush to Sage’s side. “We need to talk,” I whisper, then guide her out of the office suite until we reach the stairwell.

  “What’re you doing?” she hisses once we’re out of sight, behind a closed door, but her voice echoes in the stairwell, magnifying her annoyance that much more.

  “What’re you doing? Why are you someone’s assistant? You should be the publicist. You’re qualified, educated, and perfect for it.”

  “While I appreciate the compliments, this is New York, Aiden.” She laughs humorlessly. “Look around. The people here don’t care that I graduated college with honors. That I ran a successful business in my hometown, where the population is less than one square inch of Manhattan.” She steels herself, squaring her shoulders. “I sold my business, and it’s helping me start over, even if it means beginning from the bottom.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that, so stop belittling me.”

  “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m saying you deserve better, Jersey, but I’m not sure you agree.”

  “Don’t pretend to know me, Aiden,” she whispers. Her voice is eerie, so unlike her.

  She returns my gaze head-on, and I can tell she’s hiding something. She’s not telling me the whole story, and I… I have to know.

  “Why are you mad at me?” I ask, unable to stop myself from getting sucked into her vortex.

  The more she talks and watches me with her wide eyes, the more I’m consumed by her and the need to figure this version of Jersey out.

  “Aiden, this is my job. I told you I want to keep things between us professional, and you’re doing the complete opposite.” She pushes against my chest, but I don’t budge.

  Instead, I place my hand on the wall next to her head, and step closer, stealing the air she breathes like she’s stealing my resolve. “I’ll do what you want, if you answer my question.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Aiden.”

  “You are.”

  She squeezes her eyes closed, and I almost feel bad for this. But it’s her. She’s the one driving me to the brink of insanity, and I merely want to be put out of my misery.

  “We may not have seen each other in years, but some things don’t change.” I run my thumb across her forehead. “Like this vein in your forehead when you’re angry. And the way your lips part when I’m close.” Leaning in so that my trimmed beard brushes across her jawline, I whisper against her cheek, “I affect you.”

  Her shallow breaths are labored, and my whole body hardens.

  Because as much of an effect as I have on her, she has more on me.

  Pushing on my chest with both hands, she whispers, “And you’re just as arrogant, infuriating, and impossible.”

  “To name a few of my many charming qualities.” I pin her with my stare, unsure about what I expect her to say.

  Unsure about what good an explanation from her will do at this point.

  What do I want from her?

  “Even if you’re right about me, it doesn’t change anything. Even if you weren’t a client, you have a girlfriend and no right to do this to me.” Her eyes are sad as she slides against the wall toward the door, away from me.

  She touches the doorknob and pauses, making me think she’ll say something else, but she doesn’t. She walks through the door and shuts it behind her, closing herself off to me.

  I start to go after her. The need to do so is like holding in a sneeze or being cut off mid-sentence, but she’s right.

  I have Raven.

  All the times I stressed over not being good enough for Jock Stock, Raven was the one who supported and encouraged me. She listened when I expressed my concerns because… I don’t have a background in computer science.

  I didn’t have any experience with computers and algorithms before my few online courses.

  The information just clicked, though.

  For me, sequencing, selection, and iteration all made sense as if it was simple addition or subtraction, so I messed around with different ideas until I felt confident in my ability. Which I do.

  Aside from Westin’s support, I’ve had Raven for the last year too. She understands it.

  I love Raven.

  Yet, being around Sage, I somehow forget anyone else outside the two of us.

  And dangerously, I forget the reason Sage and I never worked out.

  Shaking my head, I run down the stairs to the lobby to meet Westin and brace myself for his inquisition.

  He’s a prying dick.

  I find him outside, still on the phone, pacing the sidewalk in front of the building. He doesn’t seem to notice the dozens of other people milling around him.

  I reach him as he hangs up. “Who was that? You looked pretty serious.”

  “Jared. He needs us back at the command center.”

  “Don’t call it that.”

  “I thought you liked it when I used your lingo.”

  “It sounds nerdy coming out of your mouth.”

  “And you sound cool when you say it?” He smirks.


  “Can we go before we get run over by the lady with the zoo on leashes?” I nod toward a woman walking five dogs, and they’re coming right at us.

  Westin waves for a taxi, and when we both get in, he rattles off our office’s address and angles his body toward mine. “What’s got your panties in a twist? Or should I say, whom?”

  I ram my hands through my hair, taking a deep breath. “She drives me fucking insane.”

  “She didn’t even say anything during the meeting, except at the end.”

  “That’s what drove me to almost jamming a pen in my eye.”

  “Have you told Raven about her?”

  “No. Why would I? It would only make her worried over nothing.”

  “Are you sure it’s nothing? You got pretty worked up—”

  “It’s nothing of importance.” I sigh. “Seeing Sage again brought the past back, reminding me I have so many unanswered questions. I thought I wanted answers, but I’m starting to think they wouldn’t do me any good. It’s best to leave it—and her—alone.”

  He remains silent as we turn onto our street, then says, “She has a unique beauty about her.”

  I whip my head toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What? She’s beautiful.” He shrugs, his back in the corner between the seat and door, as relaxed as if he said the sky is blue.

  Which is accurate. Sage is pretty—it’s a fact like the color of the sky—but coming from Westin, it feels like betrayal.

  What the fuck?

  He uses the card machine on the back of the passengers’ seat to pay the cab, and we thank the driver as we get out onto the sidewalk.

  “Want a coffee before we head up?” He points to the street cart with a blue sign on top.

  I accept his offer, easing the tension in my posture, and walk beside him toward the cart.

  Sage fucking Matthews is under my skin, and I need to stop this before it’s too late.

  I’m the one in a relationship now—our situations are reversed compared to the past.

  I’m the one in love with someone else.

  And Sage has no place in that—she can’t change that.

  I have the upper hand, the power, and I won’t let her fuck my life up this time.

  Chapter Nine