Hope Unbroken (Unveiled Series Book 3) (3 page)

Like the first time I’d played my guitar for him, I hid behind my eyelids and let the music take over. By the second time through, I held nothing back.

I opened my eyes, expecting to see Riley’s satisfied face beaming, but he’d disappeared behind the window again, busy mastering the mixing console.

He hunched over a small microphone. “Keep singing like that, and you might end up on my album.”

The sheet music dropped from my hand to the floor. I yanked off the headphones. “You wouldn’t.” I scampered out of the room. “Riley!”

We collided around the corner, caught up in a moment as if no time had passed since last summer. But as our laughter tapered, a sense of gravity settled in its place. The room might as well have shrunk two sizes.

A pink streak from the sunset gradually dissolved outside the window. Unbidden, the thought of leaving constricted my chest. How was I supposed to say goodbye to him again? He enveloped me in his arms and in a look that mirrored the words neither of us said.

He locked up the studio and returned the keys to the drawer. I meandered around the small space, admiring the framed pictures on the wall while he took care of some things in the office.

“Ready?” he said from the top of the stairs.

Hardly.

He kept me close to his side on the walk back, both of us holding on to what we weren’t ready to let go of again.

The city’s nightlife had already kicked into gear. Music jammed in the distance. Spicy scents swirled around us each time we passed a restaurant. People and cars buzzed by in all directions. But right then, it was only us.

At least we had a little longer.

After failing to win him over with my frozen-meal-in-a-bag dinner, we drank the teas we’d picked up at a corner café and talked until a honk from outside signaled the end of my visit.

The streetlamp glared over the yellow taxi parked at the end of the walkway. Riley set my bag on the backseat and paid the cabdriver who, thank God, didn’t look nearly as sketchy as the one who’d dropped me off yesterday.

Not that I wanted to get into
any
cab. Period.

Riley mimicked my frown. “I don’t want to you leave any more than you do, but you have to get back for finals.”

Why couldn’t we have graduated at the same time?

I toyed with the hem of his shirt. “Sure you don’t want to elope?”

He edged closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

We could tease about it all we wanted, but time apparently had its own plans. As usual.

I peered out toward the lake.
Don’t cry.

He stretched his fingers across my cheek into my hair and turned my chin toward his.

I brought his thumb to my lips. “I love you.”

His smile said the same. “Always.”

The cab driver leaned through the window, held his hand out in front of his face, and made googly eyes at it. “No, I love
you
more,” he said in a lovey-dovey voice.

His impersonation of the two of us cracked us up and earned him an extra tip for instigating some much-needed levity.

“Meter’s running,” he said as he rolled up the window.

Riley kissed the top of my head. “I should be back by winter break.”

At least he had off for the holidays. I still sensed there was more to that meeting than he was letting on. The way Jess’d alluded to whatever the “best part” was made it sound too much like his contract was on the line. Forcing down my selfishness, I looked up at him. As much as I wanted to marry him right now, I’d wait. “Riley, touring is important. If Nick thinks you should start in February, you should.”

He drew in a breath. “There are more important things than touring . . . things I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about.” The engine’s hum almost drowned out his voice.

My muscles tensed.

He scuffed his sneaker along the curb and stared at the ground. “Em, there’s something I need you to do for me.”

chapter three

Whirlwind

Go home to meet his family? The people he’d been estranged from for how many years? The ones who didn’t even know I existed? Sure, just show up on their doorstep on Christmas Eve. Why not? I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. Had he really thought this through?

Mulling over Riley’s request had kept me awake for most of the redeye. I hiked my book bag strap up to the top of my shoulder while the moving runway escorted me farther along the airport corridor. With my lack of sleep piling up on me, maybe this wasn’t the best time to think about it. Being back in Portland brought on enough pressures to deal with. Finals. A. J. The center.

I let out a long breath. One hurdle at a time.

At least I didn’t have to walk through it all alone. Jaycee flagged me down from the opposite end of the terminal. After being in Riley’s arms all day, adjusting to being apart again would take some serious intervention. Good thing she was a pro.

She squeezed me so hard, you’d think we hadn’t seen each other in months rather than mere hours. I almost toppled over when she let go. She lifted my left hand for inspection. “Just checking.”

For a wedding band? “Don’t worry, Jae. I’d never deprive you of getting to plan my wedding day.”

She tossed her arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the exit doors. “Liar.”

Our laughter echoed off the vaulted ceiling and spun behind us in the circular doors leading to a misty December morning in Oregon.

A look of intrigue built behind her eyes. I couldn’t even hint at the prospect of wedding planning without sparking a chain of ideas. For her sake, I was glad Riley hadn’t taken me up on my impulsive suggestion to go to Vegas. That conversation seemed so long ago now.

At her Fiat, I opened my door and studied her across the hood. “It didn’t even cross your mind to check if there was still an engagement ring on my finger, did it?”

She lounged her forearm along the doorframe, angled her head, and stared at me like I’d asked a no-brainer. “Of course not.” A divulging grin trailed into the car.

I buckled in as she cranked the heat. A blast of tropical air freshener clashed with the coffee scent forever embedded in her car’s upholstery. At least it was better than breathing that nasty, recycled air on the plane.

Several miles down the road, I tore my gaze away from the flashes of scenery passing by us. “You’re not going to ask me what happened?”

“Wasn’t sure you were ready to talk about it.”

I towed my legs up into the seat and rested my chin on my knees, still sorting through it all myself. “Can everything and nothing change at the same time? It’s weird. In some ways, I feel like we’re in a new relationship. Like, we’ve reached this place we hadn’t been able to before. But it also seems like we picked things up right where we left off in August.”

I stared out the side window again and dragged my finger down the condensation on the glass. “Guess it sounds sort of crazy.”

“It sounds like love,” Jaycee said. “You grow. You change. That’s part of life. Doing it
together
is what makes love work.”

Okay, when we made it back to the apartment, I seriously needed to check for some kind of shared transmitter between her and my brother.

She glanced at my expression. “What?”

“The musings of Jaycee McAllister.”

She yanked off her glove with her teeth and flung it at me.

I doubled over. She might’ve been a lot like Austin, but there were some roles only a best friend could fill. No chance I would’ve survived college without her. She was right. Again. Riley and I’d both changed, but we were in this together. I shoved down my worry about whatever Nick and Jess were lording over him. Now that I was back, the center needed my attention.

Jaycee parked in front of our campus apartment. Outside, I inhaled Reed College’s familiar aroma of evergreens and exhaled the residual stress left from my whirlwind weekend. She grabbed my bag from the backseat. I took out my cell and jutted my chin at the door. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

She trekked into the stairwell, and I backed against the fender.

Trey answered my call on the first ring. “You heard.”

No beating around the bush. “Yeah, secondhand. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Aw, now, there was no use interfering with your trip.”

Was he serious? Every minute counted. If Dee’s death hadn’t taught us that much, nothing would’ve. My heart pinched. Dee’d come so far—from a broken gang member to a boy who hoped for a new future. He’d lost his chance too soon. I wouldn’t let that be in vain.

“Well, I’m back, and I’m coming in tomorrow.”

“Emma, I’ve already turned in your performance review. It’s the last few weeks of the semester. Why don’t you focus on your studies?”

Background noise from the center swept in with sounds tied to my heart. It wasn’t just an internship. It was a part of me. “You know where I stand, Trey.”

His husky laugh trickled through the line. “Didn’t leave your stubbornness in Nashville, huh?”

“It’s not stubbornness.” I lifted off the car and smoothed out my coat. “It’s perspective. This wise sage once told me, keeping perspective is the only way to make it through life.”

His laughter mushroomed. “I’ll be sure to try that,” he said, repeating the same thing I’d said when he’d tried that adage on me months ago.

Bass from a passing car rocked into the stillness and filled his pause. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He couldn’t be giving up already. Quitting wasn’t in his DNA. There had to be more to the story. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The commotion in the background died down. He must’ve stepped outside. “Three months, Emma. That’s all we have left.”

I patted behind me for the car and slumped against it again. Three months before they closed the doors to the center. And to my heart.

The memory of Dee urging me to be courageous rose to the surface with a reminder I couldn’t ignore. I had no other choice but to fight.

chapter Four

Unfinished

A night in my own bed hadn’t released the strain in my shoulders the way it should’ve. I shut the door to Riley’s Civic, massaged the crook of my neck, and faced the brick building that’d been a second home for me this last semester. There had to be a way to keep the center open. It meant too much. To me. The kids. This neighborhood.

I cast a glance down both sides of the street. A BMW with tinted windows sat a block away between two beat-up clunkers, looking like a shiny silver dollar in a pile of grungy pennies. I almost headed over to check if the driver was lost, but something told me not to.

A noise stirred from the opposite end of the road, but I didn’t see anyone. A few strides toward the center, my cell’s abrupt ring stopped me. I dug the phone from my purse and stared at the screen. Whose number was that? The rustling from behind me grew closer. Without answering the call, I pocketed my phone and kept walking.

Halfway across the street, I picked up my pace. An eerie whistle sailed toward me. Heavy footsteps followed. Dark memories from the night Tito’d attacked me on this same corner cropped up without warning. Clutching my purse strap and any shred of courage, I skirted around the building. A glimpse of a hefty man wearing a ball cap trailed behind me.

I pressed my back against the bricks, yanked open my purse, and wrangled out the pepper spray that Trey’d made me swear to keep on hand. I clasped it with two sweaty palms. The footsteps drew nearer, the whistle louder.
Breathe.
Pepper spray at the ready, I pushed off the wall at the same time the man rounded the corner.

He dropped whatever he’d been carrying. “Whoa.” He tugged on his earphones and raised his hands. “Easy, miss.”

“Who are you?” I kept my finger on the trigger.

He didn’t move. “My name’s Max. I’m just doing my job.”

The BMW squealed past us and stirred up a cloud of burnt rubber and exhaust.

I flicked my chin at him. “What job?”

He directed my gaze toward the ground and bent in slow motion. With continued caution, he picked up the paper, eased back to his feet, and held it out to me.

A “For Rent” sign?

He lowered his arms at the same time I lowered the spray. “Sorry, miss. I gotta post this on your door. Then I’ll be outta your way.”

“We still have three months.” Didn’t we?

He shrugged. “Just following orders.”

I would have liked to tell him what he could do with his orders.

I followed beside him, still gripping my spray can. Something felt . . . off. He jimmied a roll of tape from his jeans pocket as I stalled by the door. “Who was in that silver BMW?”

He tore off a piece of tape with his teeth. “What BMW?”

“You didn’t notice that peel out a minute ago?”

He hung the roll on his wrist and leveled out the sign, like he was mounting an art piece on the wall. “Figured it was some kids.”

“In a beamer?” Did he have a clue where he was?

“Didn’t get a good look at the car. Just heard ‘em tires.” He secured the sign with a final piece of tape and dusted off his hand as if he’d finished a day’s hard work. “Alrighty, that’ll do it.” He tipped his hat at me as he turned.

Adrenaline still pulsing, I jetted inside and left the door open.

Trey met my eyes from his desk.

I pointed at the sign. “Did you know he was doing this?”

His glance circled by Darius and Brandon on its way back to me. “Mr. Glyndon told me he was sending someone by.”

“And you just let him?” Trey’d always been able to work things out with our landlord.

He adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses. “I’m not exactly in a position to argue.”

How could he say that? If we didn’t rally for the center, who would?

He motioned to Darius. “Give a holler to the guys out back, will ya? Tell them it’s time to hit the books.”

Darius corralled his peers off the basketball court and led them into the classroom. After all that time being A. J.’s right-hand man on the court, he’d earned a certain respect from the rest of the kids.

I charged straight for my desk phone and the chance to give Mr. Glyndon an earful. Only one ring went through before his voicemail kicked in.

Trey eased the receiver from my ear and set it in its base. “I broke the lease, Emma. We’re four months behind on rent. He’s doing what he needs to.”

“But he was working with us. What changed?”

“Not sure.” He tucked one arm under the other. “It’s business. Guess grace wore out its welcome. At least he gave us three months’ notice.”

Like that made any difference. I slouched in my chair. “Can we move somewhere else?”

His forehead creased. “No one’s gonna sign a lease with someone who can’t even pay a deposit, let alone keep up with rent. Mr. Glyndon owns half the city’s buildings, anyway, and rubs shoulders with whoever owns the rest.”

I flicked a pencil into my keyboard. “Why couldn’t the Success Foundation have sent someone other than Mr. Brake last semester? We wouldn’t even be in this situation if he didn’t blow our chance at getting that grant.”

“But we are.” He squeezed my shoulder and brandished one of his famous father-looks. “No use casting blame.”

“Sorry. It’s just frustrating.”

“I know.” He smiled with the same assurance that’d guided his actions time and again. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Breathing in, I nodded. We’d find a way.

He patted my back and waved a hand over the mess that was supposed to be my desk. “We missed you while you were away.”

“I see that.”

His laugh boosted my spirits. We might’ve been running out of time, but we were here now. Time to get to work. He strolled off to the classroom, and I dove in.

How had this many papers accumulated during such a short time away? I shuffled the bills into a giant pile and glanced at the trashcan. Tempting. I shoved them into my inbox instead to deal with later. Right now, finding funding was the only thing I needed to tackle.

I pulled up Google. Were there any grant leads left? Even if there were, three months wouldn’t be enough time to pull it all together. I raked my hair out of my face. If Mr. Brake hadn’t flown off the handle last semester, we’d already have the funds we needed. His arrogance still burned me. The assumptions he’d made. How he’d accused Dee of things he didn’t have anything to do with and then wrote us off like we were nothing. The whole thing made me want to scream.

A wave of young voices rolled out from the classroom and settled over me in a plea to focus on the present instead of the past.

I opened my notebook to a clean page, tapped my pen against the desk, and drew another deep breath. Hopeless or not, I had to try.

After hours of scouring sites for a possible benefactor and catching up on my regular work, I stashed my pen into the notebook’s spiral binding and sank into the back of my chair.

Trey passed my desk on his way to his own. His gaze skimmed my scribbled notes, but he didn’t mention it. “Is Riley living it up in Nashville like I told him?”

I returned his grin. “Just for you.”

“Knew he’d come through for me.” He bottomed into his chair and tilted back, hands laced behind his head. “Ahhh . . . the vicarious life. That’s how we old folks roll.”

Would there ever be a time he couldn’t make me laugh?

“How do you do it, Trey?”

He lowered his square-framed glasses down his nose and dished out an expression that said “perspective” without any words necessary.

The back screen door shuddered into its frame as little Andre shuffled over to Trey’s desk. He craned his head and scanned the office, face falling. “No Mr. A. J. again?”

My heart winced.

“Not today, buddy.” Trey rolled his chair around his desk and held out a hand. “How ‘bout we keep up that secret handshake for when he comes back.”

Andre’s chin scuffed the tattered collar of his beat-up Nike sweatshirt as he swayed his head. “It’s not the same.”

Nothing was.

Trey kept his hand out, not missing a beat. “Aw, c’mon. You’re the big dawg around here now. I’m countin’ on you to school me.”

A teeny smile crept up Andre’s chubby cheeks. “A’ight.” He clasped Trey’s hand and showed him how he and A. J. used to do it.

Andre whipped around toward a holler from the basketball court and scurried outside.

Though frayed on all accounts, the court still offered them a home. It did for all of us. A. J. included. He should’ve been here. Especially now, when Trey needed help more than ever.

I leaned on my elbows and held my head in both hands. “I’m sorry, Trey. About A. J. not being here. It’s my fault.” Why hadn’t I done things differently?

Trey’s chair squeaked into an upright position. He crossed his arms over his desk and stared at me from above the rims of his glasses. “Now, don’t you go blaming yourself for that. And don’t worry about A. J., either. He’ll be back. Give him some time.”

I ran my finger along the dust-filled crease on my keyboard. “I’m not so sure about that.”

A smile curved under his scruffy mustache. He moseyed to the back door and leaned one heavy shoulder against the jamb. “The kids stirred him while he was here. That doesn’t just go away. Believe me, I know.”

So did I.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I usually am. Another of those old folks’ perks.” He fake-stumbled across the room, trying to keep a straight face while hunching over like an elderly person.

Old? He might’ve been pushing fifty, tops. Even younger in spirit. But no denying the business side of things had aged him. My chest deflated at the thought.

At his desk, he settled onto his chair and kneaded out the imprint of another long week from his shoulders. His gaze shifted with his tone. “You should visit him.”

Holding a pile of papers together, I tugged open the center drawer to grab a paperclip. “I don’t think A. J. wants to see me.”

“I wasn’t talking about A. J.”

My glance caught his.

He angled his chin. “I was referring to Tito.”

The papers skimmed the inside of my hand and hit the floor. The air in the room vanished. I couldn’t hear the name of the person responsible for Dee’s death without anger constricting my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

I dropped to my knees, shoved the loose pages into a disheveled pile, and fought back the wave. “Tito’s in jail.” Where he belonged.

He hiked up a brow. “They have this thing called visiting hours.”

I sat back on my heels. “You can’t be serious? Why in the world would I want to visit
him
?”

“Because you have unfinished business with
him
.”

I towed myself back up to my chair and straightened the papers from every possible angle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I didn’t have to meet his eyes to tell he didn’t buy it.

“If you leave that bitterness festering, Tito won’t be the only one imprisoned.”

I stared past him into the memory of the day Dee’d first told me about his artwork. The chains of self-doubt that’d bound him before coming to the center had left permanent marks on my heart the same way the look on Tito’s face the day I’d confronted him had left permanent scars.

I choked down the emotion, looked away. Knowing what Trey was saying didn’t make it any easier swallow. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

Rather than press any further, he made his way over to my desk. “It’s been a long day.” He dipped his head toward the door. “Let me walk you to your car.”

A quick glance at the clock announced my shift had ended ten minutes ago.

I tossed a couple of far-reaching grant requests into the outgoing mailbox, tied my scarf around my neck, and flung on my coat. It
had
been a long day, but I couldn’t call it quits yet. “Hey, Trey? Do you think Dee’s mom would let me get my hands on some of his artwork? I want to see about getting it printed.”

A shade of sadness colored his eyes. “I think Dee would’ve been honored.”

I pinched the sides of my coat over my stomach and curbed back the sense of loss we both wrestled.

The afternoon sunlight reflected off the neighboring building and warmed my face as we walked, despite the chilled wind whirling around us.

Trey stopped in front of Riley’s car and stared at the pavement. “I don’t see much of
Ms. Mendierez anymore. Sorry to say, I hear she drinks much of her life away these days.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “You can stop by her house, Emma, but don’t hope for much of a reception.”

What happened to hope being the only thing we had?

In the driver’s seat, I heaved the car door shut against the wind as Trey turned back to the center. The engine strained against the winter air. Snapping on my seatbelt, I faced the road leading to a conversation I wasn’t even sure how to start.

A succession of one-way streets brought me to Dee’s home. The car idled in front of the mailbox. With my hands wrenched around the steering wheel, I peered back and forth between the run-down townhouse and the street. Did she still live here? Would she even want to talk to me? What if she was an angry drunk? Maybe this was a bad idea.