SAGE
“Where’d you go?” Taylor leans on the edge of my desk.
I look up from my computer, cringing. “Oh, Aiden wanted to talk about…” I lean back in my chair, biting my tongue from spilling the full truth. “My cousin and I ran into him, Westin, and Jared at a bar last week. It was interesting.”
“Did you fall in his lap?” She giggles, straightening her skirt.
“What? No,” I sputter.
“Don’t look too surprised. It happens. My old boss, Catherine, I told you about? That’s how she met her now-boyfriend. She fell in his lap, and the rest is history. Well, it wasn’t that simple, but still.” She winks.
“I have to meet this Catherine.”
“You will. She’s organizing my bachelorette party. I’ll let you know when we have a plan. You have to join us.”
“Of course.” I nod, thankful for the invitation.
“Are you okay about…” She tilts her head.
“About Aiden?” I frown. “I’ll be fine once he’s done digging up the past. He’s bringing up stuff he doesn’t even want the answers to but doesn’t know it yet.”
“Sounds like you never got closure.”
“What?” I blink at her like she turned a light switch on in my head, blinding me with her insight.
“Closure. Sounds like you two have unresolved issues you never dealt with. Maybe it would help you if you did.”
“Maybe.” Or make it worse. I worry my bottom lip, turning my attention to the calendar on my computer as Taylor walks back into her office.
How do I get closure from the person I once wanted forever from?
And why do I keep holding my breath like there’s anything left for us?
He left then.
He has a girlfriend now.
That should be closure enough, right?
Like a bird with clipped wings, I have a heart
with no one to hold it.
A love for no one
to cherish.
But I loved you.
A love that was destined like water
sliding from a leaf.
Dripping from a faucet.
Falling from my eyes.
My heart beats with the hope of a new day.
That the water will find its way
from a puddle to an ocean.
Foolish, they say.
But I long for you.
In the night, I pray for you.
In my dreams, you loved me too.
I shut my notebook. I’ve been reading from it every day since I found it. This poem is one of the finished ones. Unlike the rest, I don’t want to tweak the line breaks, the wording, or the rhythm in this one.
I remember the night I wrote it too. It was a couple months after Aiden left, right before Dave and I got back together and decided to get married. I was vulnerable and alone.
Terrified of the future.
I stare out my bedroom window, at the setting sun shining through, highlighting the dusty particles floating about the apartment. Like a bright future with a messy past.
That could be me.
If I refuse to let Aiden get to me—again.
Taylor’s right—I never got closure.
I pick up my phone to text him to meet me this week to talk, but instead of clicking on my messages, I turn my phone off.
This nagging feeling stops me—this feeling that if we talk, if we get everything out in the open, it’ll be over.
Really over with the one person I never let go. Part of my heart has always held on to him, even when I didn’t want to or realize it.
The front door creaks open, and Naomi steps inside, hanging her coat up on the rack. “Sage? I’m home.”
“In here.” I stand from my bed and drop my tattered notebook on my nightstand.
“What’s that?” Naomi points from the doorway, her scrubs a lighter shade of gray today than usual.
“Oh… I used to write poetry.” I shrug, rounding my bed to nudge her out of here.
“Can I read them?” She doesn’t move.
“Umm…”
“You’ve let people read them, haven’t you?”
“Not exactly.” I fidget with my fingers in front of me. “Aiden read some, once upon a time.”
“I see.” Her expression softens. “Well, if you feel comfortable down the road, I’d love to read them. I was an artist in my former life, after all. It was mostly paints, but art is art.”
“Thanks, Naomi.” I step toward the door, but then stop myself. “Wait, you were a painter?”
She gives me a sad smile. “I used to smoke too, but it’s the one thing out of the two that I’m glad I quit.”
My eyes widen.
“But yes. I was an art major when I first started college before I changed to nursing.”
“What made you change?”
“Aside from wanting to help people, I needed something different.” Her eyes darken before she hangs her head. “Some things, Sage… some tragedies are too much to handle, and you need a change of pace. Something to help you move on, and you can’t do that—”
“—when it’s staring you in the face,” I finish for her with a whisper. “I know exactly what you mean.”
I furrow my eyebrows. What tragedy is she talking about?
“Want to order in for dinner?” She walks to the refrigerator and pulls a menu from under a magnet, ending the conversation.
She puts her guard back up.
Why does she do that?
“I’m exhausted, and you’ve cooked every night this week,” she calls out.
“Sure. That Chinese place you like so much?”
“And you don’t like it?” She scoffs, moving toward the couch in the living room. “Their crab rangoon is the best I’ve ever had. Orgasmic.”
“Wow,” I say, sitting on the other end of the couch. “This place really has your heart. The only other time you’re this animated is when you showed me what are very likely blood stains from a brutal murder.” I point to the corner to a potted plant, under which are red splattered spots.
“You can’t do New York without renting a creepy apartment.” She shrugs. “I feel like I’m one of the city folk.”
“You are one of them. Have been for a while.”
“I’ve lived here for a while, yes. The city is definitely part of me, but you never forget your roots. No matter how long I live here or elsewhere, I’ll always be a scared little girl from North Carolina.”
“Must’ve been hard to move here all by yourself for college.”
“It was, at first, but it made me seek out friends. I had a best friend.” She visibly tenses and stops toying with the corner of a throw pillow.
“Naomi?”
She snaps her head up to me. “Do you know what you want for food?”
“Sure, but are you okay? You can talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” she says absentmindedly.
I can understand that—not wanting to go into detail—so I drop it. For now. After all, there’s plenty I haven’t told her myself.
She hands me the menu, and I ask for her order as I dial the number.
“Beef and broccoli please, and two orders of crab rangoon. I had one cracker and an apple all day, so I’m starving.”
“On it.”
“And afterward, maybe we tear into that ice cream in the freezer?”
“You know I never say no to ice cream.”
Once our food is ordered, I get comfortable and turn Netflix on.
“Have you talked to your mom at all?”
I wince. “Once or twice since Christmas. I tried to call her a few times afterward to check in, but she only answered once.” I exhale, recalling the long, awkward pauses in between a conversation that barely scratched the surface of our lives. “I thought we’d be doing better by now. I mean, I tell her I’m getting divorced, and all she says is, ‘Good. I never liked him, anyway.’ And that’s that.”
“Ouch.” Naomi cringes.
“Shouldn’t she want to be there for you, though? I mean, even if he wasn’t good for you, divorce is still difficult.”
“I wish I knew what she was thinking. Then again, it’s probably a scary box to open.” I laugh, but I don’t feel it. It’s only a sad attempt at lightening the situation.
“Give her time. She’s probably hurt she wasn’t at your wedding.”
I remain silent for a moment, pretending to scroll through the new movies on Netflix.
After a short pause, I drop the remote and sigh, settling to tell Naomi the partial truth. “Dave and I… we got married because he was in love with me. I thought he was my chance at a better life. Our wedding was hurried, and my mother was so opposed, she thought if she didn’t show up, that we wouldn’t go through with it.” I give her a tight-lipped smile. “It was her way of teaching me a lesson, like she’s done all my life. It’s why I was packing my own lunch at six years old.”
She purses her lips. “Maybe my mom can talk to yours? She might listen to her big sister, for once?”
“Maybe, but we both know how that’ll turn out.” I smile. “Somehow, they’ll end up arguing about something completely irrelevant, like who stole whose boyfriend in high school and who gave whose stuff to the Goodwill without their knowledge.”
Naomi cracks a smile too. Our moms don’t have much of a relationship anymore, partially because Naomi’s mom moved away, and the distance put a strain on them.
But mostly, it’s because they fight about everything.
Besides, even if they did get along, my mom rarely makes time for anything or anyone outside her work as an interior designer. She’s branched out to all of the surrounding towns, taking on more clients than she can handle, which means she lives on coffee and stress, detached from any personal relationships.
I used to admire her work ethic. She even inspired me to open my own business and be an entrepreneur as well, and that’s about the only thing I have to thank her for.
Even so, I often wondered if she was different before my father died. He passed away when I was only four years old, and I don’t remember much from that time. I got used to her absence as I grew up, but sometimes, when I need to feel close to a mother figure, I imagine she was different with my father around. That she was warm and loving and generous.
Because the fantasy is more comforting than reality.
“I’m sorry, Sage. That must’ve been difficult not having your mom in your corner when you needed her.” Her voice is pained.
“It was.” I gulp, turning my attention back to the screen. “It was another lifetime ago, though. A distant memory now,” I whisper.
She squeezes my shoulder, and the small contact is surprisingly consoling.
Deeply inhaling, I shake my head. “Now, what movie are we watching? Something happy and fun, hopefully?”
“Not exactly my strong suits.” She sets the pillow to the side and stands. “But you can pick whatever you want. I’m going to change before the food gets here.”
As she walks to her room, I flip through the movies until they blur.
The guilt eats at me.
The guilt of not being completely forthcoming with my cousin—the one I’m trying to build a solid relationship with.
But I can’t tell her, not yet.
Not until I tell the one person who’s also involved in my past. In my memories. The one who broke me eight years ago and didn’t have any intention of putting me back together.
Chapter Ten
AIDEN
“I think I should take the meeting alone.” Westin leans against my door.
“Why?” I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms.
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes a mix of guilt and sympathy. “Because you turn into this crazy Aiden whenever Sage is involved, and we need to focus. They’re squeezing us in to go over our interview with Jenson Ross. It’s in one week. Jenson Ross, man.”
“Yeah, I know who he is.” I glare at him.
“This isn’t the time to get our heads stuck in our asses about a girl, no matter how great or beautiful she is, and—”
“What the fuck is this?” I stand, my temper rising.
He points at me. “This is what I’m talking about. You lose your head when it comes to her.”
I blow out a frustrated breath, gripping the back of my neck. “I’m sorry.” I put my hands up in surrender.
He nods, silently accepting my apology, and after a short pause, he says, “I don’t get it, man. You’re not dating her. You’re with Raven. Right?”
“Yes.” I rub both eyes with my palms. “Yes, I’m with Raven. There’s nothing between Sage and me, and I won’t let her distract me. Okay? I’m good.” I lower my voice to assure him my head is on straight like my mother taught me.
I don’t admit that the silence from her for a week has been torture.
That researching athletes and stats, meeting with the team, and long hours haven’t been enough to distract me.
That I haven’t seen Raven much the last few weeks, and there’s obvious tension between us when we do hang out.
I’m wound up.
“Listen, it’s not only Sage. It’s the stress of all this.” I wave around my office toward the rest of the space. “It’s a lot of pressure, and it’s growing every day. We’ll be appointing board members soon, and it’s all coming to life, you know?”
“I know.” He stands tall and comfortable like we’re talking about sports—our specialty. But when we started down this road to build Jock Stock, we had no idea what we were in for.
We’ve had a lot of good days and just as many bad.
“It’s what we’ve worked so hard for, Aiden.” He squints at me.
I smile, easing the tension out of my shoulders and the room. “I’ll behave, you’ll see.”
His frown turns into a grin as he sticks his hand out for me to shake. “That’s the Aiden I recognize.”
I drop his hand and put my arms out wide, emphasizing how relaxed I am. How evolved. How over the whole thing with Sage I am.
“Then you won’t mind if I ask her out?”
My smile falls.
“What?” I blink like I don’t recognize him.
“Since there’s nothing between you two, I was thinking of asking Sage to dinner.”
“You want to take out Sage? On a date?” I stiffen and hold my breath like I’m going under water and don’t know when I’ll breathe again.
He shrugs. “Yeah. I think there could be something between us.”
“With Jers—Sage?” I work my jaw back and forth. “She’s recently divorced, you know. I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to take her out and—”
“Who are you taking out?” Jared interrupts, making me jump back, bumping into my chair.
“We should really put a bell around you. What, are you walking around barefoot?” I peer down at his feet, but he’s wearing shoes. How does he do that?
Jared pops a chip in his mouth, and the bag wrinkles in his hands. “So?” he says between chews. “Who are you going out with?”
“Sage.”
I cringe at the sound of her name coming from Westin’s mouth.
The thought of her with him makes bile build in my throat.
“The hot assistant from CJJ?” Jared quirks an eyebrow and slows his chewing as he eyes me.
I’m stock-still, paralyzed by the idea of another man getting his chance with Sage. The woman who’s had her claws around my heart for years, without me even knowing it.
But she shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t have my balls tied up over her, not after what she did. Not after I’ve moved on. I’m with someone real. Someone who doesn’t make me want to punch a wall.
“Forget I said anything.” Westin throws his hands up in surrender. “Obviously, you’re having a mom
ent, and I don’t want to make things weird.”
Before he finishes his sentence, I shake my head. “You’re not. She’s not mine.” I clap him on the shoulder and head for the door, calling over my shoulder, “Let’s go.”
“Right behind you.”
Westin grabs his briefcase on the way to the door, and I grind my teeth, fighting the urge inside me to jog.
To scream.
To tell Westin he can’t take Sage out, even though I have no right.
But the words are on the tip of my tongue the entire ride to CJJ.
When we arrive at their suite, I take one look at Sage, her hair down and wavy like she used to wear it, and I’m on the verge of exploding.
But as promised, I manage to make it through the meeting while Taylor coaches us, mainly Westin, with mock interview questions. I jump in when necessary, but mostly I stay quiet and attempt to ignore the way Sage’s cleavage is emphasized over her blouse every time she bends to set our coffees in front of us or reaches across the table for papers.
It’s torture.
And I don’t miss the way Westin eyes her, either, as if he’s never seen a beautiful woman before.
Like she won’t rip his heart out the way she did mine.
But even so, I can admit there’s something special about Sage. About her smile and the way it reaches her eyes.
Those damn eyes.
They’re soft and kind, and does she still narrow them—do they still darken—when she’s turned on?
I squirm in my seat, then stand as we end the meeting. Westin rounds the table to shake both Taylor and Sage’s hands, but he lingers with Sage’s, engulfing her petite hand in his bearish claws.
I sigh—I need to get the fuck out of here.
But I’m frozen in my spot, and their laughs are muffled by the blood rushing to my ears.
The minutes tick by.
My chest squeezes.
And Westin is still shaking her hand.
Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I round the table and thank them for their time. I told him I’d be professional, right? It has nothing to do with forcing him to let go of Sage’s hand and step aside.
Her eyes flicker up to mine as I shake her hand, and her annoyance is obvious, which makes me smirk.
Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel Page 9