Unbreak Me Read online

Molly smiled and popped her hands into the pockets of her jeans and felt a little bit odd standing there in front of Connor, who was now looking up at her, observing her every movement.

  “So, do you make it a daily thing, saving guys from jumping?”

  “Erm, no, but I try to make sure that if I see someone in need, I can help them in some way or another. You just happened to be in my sights tonight.”

  “You’re a modern-day good Samaritan, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t go as far as saying that, but there was a time when I needed the help of another. Take it from me, there are still some decent people in this world.” Molly smiled. “Anyway, I just came by to make sure you were okay. So, I guess, good luck, and talk—for the love of God, try to talk about whatever is going on.”

  Without saying another word, Molly left the room and disappeared. She was content knowing that Connor was in good hands. Her conscience was at ease, which was a huge plus considering her stress levels had been pretty toxic before seeing the handsome guy so willing to jump.

  * * * *

  Molly stood under the water for a good twenty minutes and washed the day’s events from her. She looked forward to her cup of cocoa and the latest Nicholas Sparks novel. There was something so simple, yet luxurious, about losing herself in a good book and daydreaming. She’d come a long way from the illiterate, scrawny, starving girl Aggie had saved.

  As she sat down on her couch, she topped her hot chocolate with a little extra cream and savored the first sip. Closing her eyes, emptiness washing over her, she began to cry. Why? She had no idea, but sometimes, every so often, Molly allowed herself to absorb too much. And given the evening’s events, one would hazard a guess and assume that saving Connor from a rather nasty death had gotten under her skin.

  Molly had never intended on being anyone’s savior. In fact, she was so hell-bent on just shuffling through life, remaining invisible to all those around her, that any attention she got made her feel quite disjointed. Aggie had placed much blame on Molly’s parents, who’d failed miserably at raising their only child, leaving her to fend for herself. Of course, Aggie’s opinions weren’t meant to come across as mean, but every so often, being reminded of her damaged roots hurt Molly in more ways than Aggie realized.

  Molly let out a long sigh, closed the book and sat in silence, rubbing the tears from her eyes.

  “You stupid dork,” she muttered to herself as she tried hard to control the sobs choking her, not wanting to awaken Regina, Aggie’s longtime life partner and now Molly’s main source of support. She hated how emotional she became. She felt like an alien lost in her feelings and despised the fact that she just couldn’t rid herself of her demons, those nasty little picture-perfect nightmares that had scarred her for life.

  Life in the Rice household had been far from ideal. By the time she was two years old, Molly had already been admitted into hospital more than seven times. All at the hands of her abusive father who took pleasure in burning his little girl’s scalp with cigarette butts. Social workers had placed her in temporary foster care, only for the courts to grant access to her parents, who in turn continued their tirade of abuse and neglect. Until finally at thirteen years old, she’d run away, taking refuge on the streets.

  The way Molly saw it, anything was better than being beaten, made to take drugs just for her father to take advantage of her young body, not to mention her mother, who refused to feed her, often accusing her own child of seducing a grown man.

  It was an upbringing that made her recoil from the advances of men. It wasn’t that she was a prude, but trust was something she didn’t give easily. But who could blame her? She had been lost for nearly ten years before Aggie had found her lying unconscious, malnourished and on the brink of death.

  Being taken in by a complete stranger and nursed back to health was something Molly would be forever thankful for. It restored her faith in mankind and made her hopeful for her future. Now she was intent on fulfilling her dream—moving from the city and setting up roots somewhere new.

  The phone rang and she jolted up straight. “Who in hell?” she complained as she reached for the phone, picking up the receiver.

  “Hello?” she said as she sat back on her couch, pulling her blanket around her shoulders. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that, I got tied up… No, everything is good… Jenna, I’m fine. Yeah, I can do that… Ten a.m., on the plaza! Okay, thank you. Goodnight.”

  As Molly rested her head back on the cushions, she was thankful to have someone like Jenna in her life. Having a sponsor who cared enough to keep her on the straight and narrow was enough for Molly to accept that there were more good people in the world than bad.

  Molly looked over at the picture frame on the side table and smiled. Her, Aggie and Regina together, a huge cake in front of the old white-haired women and pure joy on their faces. That had been taken before the cancer had robbed the woman of her gusto. But Molly smiled. It was a good memory and one she’d take with her wherever she would settle down. “You done good, Aggie,” she mumbled as her eyes locked on the face of her savior, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep. That beautiful secure place where none of her demons could touch her.

  Peace.

  Chapter Three

  “What kind of stunt were you trying to pull?” John Ellison stormed at his son, who sat at the large dining table, staring into his cold coffee, defeated by life. “What were you trying to prove? Surely you have something to offer me? Life can’t be that bad that you felt it necessary to even consider such an act. Did it ever occur to you that we’d be devastated?” His father’s eyes glazed over, but clearing his throat, he looked away.

  “How could you drag our good name into such a scandal?” Connor’s mother, Eleanor, said as she looked at her son with disgust. “We need Patrick to smooth this over with the press,” she said to her husband, who was refilling his glass with Scotch. “Not to mention the damage already done with the failure of closure on the Lanscorp deal. Have you any idea what your childish attention seeking has done? Did you ever think of anyone other than yourself?”

  It was bubbling beneath the surface. Anger ready to burst through his seams and he didn’t care. He had had enough. How could he continue living under their rule, having them control every inch of his life? He hated everything his family name represented, and was done.

  “I guess I’m done,” Connor replied.

  “You’re done?” John scowled at his son. “That makes it okay because you’re done.”

  “Yeah, done, as in fuck you, and fuck her,” Connor said as he stood, scraping the chair from behind him as he turned his back on his parents. His outburst was directed at his mother, but he despised his father’s refusal to step up and tell her to pipe down. It had always been this way, his mother being the dominant one, his father the one with a noose around his neck.

  “You’re done when we say so, and until then, you’d do well to remember how we’d cut you off in a split second. You’ve got it good, boy, don’t be a fool.” John met his son with a cold glare.

  “How can you be so selfish?” Eleanor interrupted John.

  “How can either of you call yourself parents?” Connor asked as he shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother sticking around.”

  “Get your ass back here now, Connor Ellison,” Eleanor shouted.

  Connor walked away from the confrontation, slamming the front door behind him, and never looked back once as he made his way to his car.

  Connor had been raised in prosperous Pacific Heights, but he hated everything his wealth represented. There were more skeletons lurking in his father’s closest. He had seen firsthand the depths to which his parents would go to make sure the press never caught on to any of the scandals. Especially when some of his father’s mistresses had promised revenge for their brief dalliances.

  Connor didn’t want any of it. He knew from the first day he was introduced into his family’s billion-dollar corporation that he couldn’t cut it. He w
asn’t ruthless enough or spoiled enough to do the dirty deeds that were required of him. Tearing other companies down and destroying dreams wasn’t his kind of game at all, but it was expected of him. After all, he was an Ellison, and business and blood were cut from the same cloth.

  Connor was thirty-one years of age and anyone would have thought he’d have grown a backbone by now, but just like his brother—a whole other level of fucked up—everything in his prominent world was controlled.

  Connor switched on the stereo, turned the music up loud and drowned out his thoughts as he drove away from the place that reminded him of everything that turned his stomach.

  With his shades on, he drove in the early morning sun, trying his best to pretend he was someone other than who he was.

  He failed miserably.

  * * * *

  Connor walked into his apartment, threw his keys onto the side dresser and headed straight for the refrigerator for a beer. It wasn’t even nine a.m., but he had come not to give a damn. He knew he was in a bad place. The pile of paperwork stacked on his home office desk was a telltale sign that things were getting on top of him. Finding the motivation to do the simplest of tasks was now beginning to feel as if he were climbing a mountain. He just wanted to sleep, let the whole pain die. And if he was lucky enough, he’d slip off without anyone noticing.

  Connor was frustrated by his parents’ refusal to accept that there was something wrong with him. To make matters worse, he was pissed with himself for not doing something about it sooner. It was a recipe for disaster. But now things had changed drastically. The ball was in his court, and there was, of course, the silver lining in all the mess—Molly.

  Connor couldn’t get her out of his head. No one had ever taken the time to see if he was all right. Not once in his life had anyone shown him the kind of warmth and gentleness that she portrayed in the short moment she was in his company. She was different. She had saved him from his pitiful attempt at suicide and there it was, the little ray of hope.

  As he gulped down a mouthful of beer, he knew he had to find her. Even if it was just to thank her, he had to lay to rest that part of their brief encounter and apologize for being a prize dick.

  He picked up his cell, dialed a familiar number and waited for his contact at the local police department to answer.

  “Hey, can you do me a solid?” he asked as he rubbed his thumb along the neck of his bottle of beer.

  “Sure, what’s the deal?” a deep male voice asked.

  “The girl that made the call, can you trace her?”

  “Jeez, man, talk about putting a guy on the spot.”

  “Eric, it’s important.” Connor’s desperation was evident as he clenched his fists a few times.

  “Okay, can you give me a few minutes? I need to make a call or two,” Eric said.

  “Yeah, I can wait.” Connor set the phone on the table, drinking the rest of his beer, wondering about Molly, how things looked from her point of view, then the phone rang.

  “Hey,” he answered.

  “Listen, man, you didn’t get this from me, okay?”

  “You know this won’t get any further. I just want to thank her personally,” Connor said as he picked up a pen in anticipation.

  “Okay!” Eric replied then gave Connor the cell number.

  Connor scribbled down the digits and smiled. “Thanks, Eric.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you owe me.” Then the line went dead.

  Connor’s stomach began to swarm as he looked at the number. Nervous about making contact with her, he was unsure if it was the right thing to do, but he owed her an apology. In his mind, doing it in person was an honorable move on his behalf.

  He swallowed hard, then he dialed the number and waited a few seconds, almost hanging up, when the voice he remembered from the hospital answered.

  “Hello!” Molly said.

  “Err, hello, Molly, it’s Connor,” he said, sounding more nervous than he planned.

  “Connor?”

  “Yeah, the guy from the bridge.”

  “Yeah, I remember. What can I do for you?”

  Connor paused for a second and became lightheaded. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did last night.”

  “Oh, it was nothing. Honestly. I’d have done it for anyone. I’m just glad you didn’t…you know, jump.”

  “Yeah, about that… I’m sorry for putting you in that position.” He ran his hand over his face, feeling worse than he had before he called her.

  “There’s no need for an apology. Life’s a bitch.”

  “You got that right.”

  Connor sat back on his couch. He looked up at the ceiling as he listened to the lovely lilt in her voice. He didn’t remember her sounding so musical before, but now he was mesmerized.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a meeting in less than an hour, so—” Molly said, sounding pretty apologetic.

  “Oh, of course, absolutely. I just wanted to thank you, that’s all,” Connor said as his cheeks went a little pink.

  “No worries.”

  “Hey, before you go, would there be any chance of meeting in person?”

  There it was. He’d asked.

  A little silence followed his question before she replied, “Err, I don’t know.”

  “I promise I’m not a weirdo. I would just like to meet you, maybe get a bite to eat, nothing serious,” he said as he sat upright, resting his elbow on his knee.

  “I don’t know.” Molly sounded nervous.

  “If it’s a problem, I understand. No pressure.”

  “Okay,” Molly replied, sounding a little shy. “When?”

  “Today?”

  “Well, I… I have a meeting at ten, but we could do lunch?” Molly suggested.

  Connor’s heart pounded hard as he jumped to his feet. The butterflies began multiplying. “Sounds good. Do you know Chouquet’s on Washington Street?”

  “I do,” Molly replied.

  “Midday?”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then,” Molly said before hanging up.

  Connor slid the phone into his pocket and went into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. He was excited about the prospect of seeing Molly, but cringed at the thought of how he’d come across as a complete asshole in the hospital. But at the moment, he knew it was the chance meeting of a lifetime and he didn’t want to risk anything.

  He had to prove to himself that there was more to life than the façade he’d been living.

  Chapter Four

  Molly raced to her closet and rummaged through the not so fancy attire that left a lot to be desired. Biting on her bottom lip, she cringed as she tried to choose something that would make her look a little bit decent, especially since she had never set foot in Chouquet’s—it wasn’t the kind of place her meager salary allowed her to dine—but she was still intent on looking presentable. She was still in shock from the phone call, but it was a lovely surprise, and one she welcomed.

  She settled on a little floral dress she’d picked up in a thrift store, applied a little gloss and wore her hair loose. She wasn’t much for plastering her face with makeup and preferred her flat shoes to heels, but she smiled as she saw her reflection.

  “That’ll do,” she remarked as she grabbed her bag and keys, and made her way to her meeting with Jenna.

  Union Square plaza was buzzing with people shopping at the market, while others took in the sights of the historic statues. Then there were those sitting on the benches, playing board games—checkers being a firm favorite.

  Jenna sat at their usual place, hunched over a paper. Her right hand held on to the paper coffee cup from a local Starbucks, and there was another coffee cup waiting for Molly.

  “Anything interesting?” Molly asked as she sat down across from the fine-looking woman.

  Jenna looked up from her paper and smiled. “Not if you call local rich kid suicide attempt news.”

  Molly grinned, but didn’t bother filling her on the d
etails that she was the one to stop the local rich kid from killing himself.

  “And that there is the reason why I don’t do tabloids or newspapers of any sort. Silly speculation,” she complained, then asked, “How’ve you been?”

  “Ah, I’ve been good. But more to the point, how have you been? You missed our last meeting.” Jenna made it a point of letting her know that her absence had been noted.

  “Well, I haven’t fallen off the bandwagon if that’s what you’re worried about.” Molly lifted the coffee and sipped at the vanilla latte.

  “Just had to make sure,” Jenna said, raising her eyebrows as she looked at her. “How’s work?”

  “Work is good. Tiresome, but good.”

  “By the way, you look great today. Any plans?”

  Molly tried not to smile too much, so she bit down on her bottom lip and shrugged. “Just having lunch with someone.”

  That got Jenna’s attention. “Oh, really?”

  “Nah, not telling you.” Molly laughed. “Besides, it’s nothing, just lunch.”

  “That’s what I said when Barry asked me out nineteen years ago,” Jenna joked. Her warm smile was infectious, and Molly never felt more at ease.

  Jenna Saunders had been Molly’s sponsor for the past two years. She’d been sober for the best part of those two years, with only a temporary setback when Aggie died, which in essence meant her sober time had started all over again. It had been tough for her, but Jenna and her husband Barry had proved their worth in gold and stepped up when they were needed.

  Molly had thought going cold turkey was something she’d never live through, but just like had Jenna promised, she had made it to the other side and come out a little stronger. Still broken, but able to cope with the loss of the woman who’d restored her faith in mankind.

  “So who is he?” Jenna asked.

  “What’s to say it isn’t a she?”

  “Well, you’re wearing a dress. I’ve never seen you in a dress, so I’m guessing you want to make a good impression, right?”