Page 1 of Unstoppable You (Sapph in the City #6)

Chapter One

Delaney

“Fuck you, Connor. Fuck you, and the truck you rode in on!” I spoke through sobs as I added more items to the burn pile.

“Is that it?” my boss at Between the Sheets Bookshop and friend, Larison, asked.

“Yeah,” I said, wiping my dripping nose. I know I looked like shit, but I didn’t care. Appearance was the last thing on my mind.

Larison gave Stace, the friend who offered to let me add my ex-boyfriend’s shit to the yard waste from her parent’s house, a thumbs up. Stace was the one setting and supervising the fire since she worked as a firefighter.

It took a little while, but soon Connor’s favorite shirts, his hats, shoes, and a bunch of other shit were reduced to nothing but smoke and ashes. Too bad I couldn’t have gotten my hands on his precious gaming systems. That would have really made him hurt.

Larison put her arm around me.

“Thanks for suggesting this,” I said. I’d wanted to get rid of Connor’s stuff in a dramatic way. Like throwing it out the window of my second story apartment along with a banner that said WELCOME HOME, CHEATER so everyone in the city would know what he did to me. Instead, he’d snuck in while I was at work and grabbed the essentials before he moved in with one of his friends.

“You’re welcome,” Larison said. “Stace was actually the one who came up with it.”

Stace saluted us and then went back to supervising the fire, her arms crossed, showing off her muscles. The first time I’d met her, I’d been in awe of her fitness level, but then I heard about her job and it made sense. Still. She looked like she could lift a car and not break a sweat.

“Thank you,” I told Stace.

She turned her head and smiled. “It’s the least I could do.”

The fire was still going, but all of Connor’s crap was nothing but ash and I’d lost interest. My relationship was finally dead and cremated. I wiped my eyes, which were still wet but this time because of the smoke. It was totally the smoke.

I’d been crying nearly every second since I came home to my apartment one Saturday night and found Connor in bed with someone else. I’d screamed and she’d screamed and we’d both turned on Connor, who had told her that we had broken up and me that he was going out with his friends. I’d been over at Larison’s, but her daughter had started feeling sick, so I’d canceled my planned evening with her and her girlfriend, Jo. Ever the dutiful girlfriend, I’d sent Connor a message about it, but he’d left his phone in his pants on the floor while he’d been fucking someone else.

If I was truly honest with myself, things hadn’t always been good with Connor, even from the beginning, but I’d just…I’d told myself that things were great. That was what I’d always done. Imagined that things were wonderful even if they weren’t. Always looked on the bright side. Found the silver lining. That was me, Delaney Budreau, the good girl, the sweetheart, the amazing girlfriend, the perfect employee, the ideal daughter.

And Connor St. Clair had fucked me over anyway. It didn’t matter that the night before I’d cooked his favorite meal. It didn’t matter that I’d bought ugly dark sheets because he thought that anything else was too “feminine.” It didn’t matter that I did his laundry and cleaned the kitchen and didn’t complain when he left his wet towels on the bathroom floor.

I had almost never complained. Had always smiled and rolled my eyes and swallowed my anger. Told myself that I was being dramatic, that I was being demanding, that I was asking for too much. That he worked hard (he didn’t), he was stressed (from staying up all night gaming), that I loved him (did I?).

Of course I had loved him. I wouldn’t have done everything for him if I hadn’t.

“You okay?” Larison asked me, squeezing my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said, but the word was an empty syllable. I told people I was fine all the time. If I shared how I really felt, I might open my mouth and never stop screaming.

There was sadness, yes, but there was another emotion under the sadness, wearing the sadness on top of itself like a cape.

Pure, distilled rage.

If you’d asked me before this happened if I was an angry person, I would have scoffed and told you that I believed anger was an emotion people used as an excuse. That anger was too accepted these days as the only valid emotion while so many others were shamed and hidden away.

That had been a different Delaney.

“Come on,” Larison said, pulling me back from the fire. “I think I know something that will cheer you up.”

* * *

“Well?” she asked a little while later as we sat at the sports bar with a pitcher of beer and a basket of wings in front of us. Normally coming here would have cured what ailed me, but tonight it wasn’t doing the trick.

What was wrong couldn’t be cured by honey barbecue wings and the best cheap beer in the city. The only cure I would even consider was something like murder, but I’d never be able to lie, and orange was not my color.

“Yeah, definitely better,” I told Larison, plastering a smile on my face that made my cheeks feel like they were stiff and cracking.

“Fuck Connor,” Jo said, passing me a glass of beer.

“I’d rather not, actually,” I said, taking the sweating glass and stopping myself from immediately chugging it. Larison had driven me here and I was taking a car home so my plan was to get absolutely smashed, something I’d never done actually done before.

There were so many things I’d never done before.

Jo and Larison gave me similar sympathetic looks as I swallowed a huge gulp of beer and tore the meat off a wing with my teeth, discarding the bones in the empty bucket that had been provided.

I’d never felt so feral in my life. The idea of tearing off all my clothes, running into the woods, and screaming until my lungs bled definitely had its appeal.

I wanted to scratch and bite and claw and wreck and ruin and destroy.

The fire today hadn’t done much to slake my rage. If I could have set Connor’s truck on fire and watched it burn, that might have satisfied me. Maybe not even then.

Larison and Jo tried to talk with me, but I was only half-listening. The rest of my brain was busy these days. Occupied with other matters.

Rage and vengeance required a lot of energy, apparently. I was exhausted.

“You sure you’re good to work next week?” Larison asked me. She might be my friend, but she was also my boss, so things could get a little tricky sometimes.

“Absolutely. I’m happy for the distraction. I just want to get back to normal.”

There was no getting back to normal for me. Normal was the exact thing I wanted to avoid . Where had normal gotten me? It had gotten me a man who fucking cheated on me. It hadn’t made me rich, or famous, or even happy.

Doing what I was supposed to do, what was expected of me, had never done me a goddamn thing.

It was time for something new.

My parents used to watch this older sitcom and one episode the guy decided to do the opposite of all his instincts, and everything started working out for him. That was the energy I wanted to bring to my life.

Fuck-it vibes.

Part of me thought about telling Larison and Jo about my new plan, but I was still keeping it to myself. I didn’t just want to dive into something recklessly. I needed to think this through.

What did I always do? Make a list. This would be a Fuckit List. All the things I’d stopped myself from doing up until now that I was going to let myself do.

It was going to be a long-ass list.

“Delaney?” Larison asked, and I realized I’d been staring off into space and thinking about my list.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m back.”

Reaching for a wing, I ate it rapidly and tuned back into the conversation between Larison and Jo. They were discussing a new book, of course. Normally I’d have been completely involved in the discussion and you wouldn’t have been able to stop me from talking, but my constant-burning rage was making that difficult.

It should have been a fun night out with my friends, but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t know why this breakup was hitting me so hard. I’d always been able to put things aside and keep a smile on my face and a song in my heart.

Fucking Connor. The night I’d discovered him was a complete blur. I know I’d done a lot of screaming and crying, but other than that? No idea what I’d said. It was a shame, because I still had plenty of things I wanted to say to him.

“Delaney?” Larison had obviously been trying to get my attention.

“Hm?” I asked.

“Do you want to just go home?” she asked, both her and Jo giving me concerned frowns.

I didn’t like that. Usually I was the one with the concerned frown looking at them. The one who was taking care of someone else. The one who was making sure that everyone was having a good time, and if they weren’t, I did my best to change it. This role reversal was as uncomfortable as an old scratchy sweater.

I didn’t like it at all.

There was no way to salvage tonight. I was fully in my head and not even wings and beer and my friends were going to bring me out of it.

“Yeah, if that’s okay?” I said.

“Of course,” Larison said, squeezing my hand.

They refused to let me pay and I caught Jo whispering in Larison’s ear. I bet they’d dropped their daughter Juniper off with Larison’s moms for the night, so they were free to get frisky. Good for them. At least someone was getting laid.

If I was honest with myself, I couldn’t remember the last time Connor and I had had sex. It had been a while.

Fuck, I didn’t want to think any more about Connor. He’d wasted too many of my years already.

I sighed in the backseat as Larison drove me to my apartment and dropped me off. Dragging myself upstairs, I paused for a second after I unlocked the door. Every time I came home, I’d get hit with a wave of nausea that made it hard to stay standing.

We’d moved into this apartment together. Well, I’d directed the movers to bring things in and Connor had immediately sat on the couch and started gaming on his device. But I’d done my best to make it our place and now all I could see when I walked through the door were the holes. The empty places.

Connor’s butt print that had permanently altered the shape of the couch.

“I need a new couch,” I said once I’d managed to stop myself from throwing up. No one answered me because I lived alone now.

I hated it. Absolutely hated it.

“Fuck,” I said, wiping away tears and leaning back against the door.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since my entire world changed.

“I hate this,” I said to no one.

There was no one here to listen.

* * *

Somehow I got my ass out of bed the next day instead of rotting for an entire Sunday. I should be doing work for my screen-printing business, or cleaning, or meal prepping for the coming week, or a million other things. Instead I made triple chocolate chip pancakes and ate them in bed in my pajamas, licking the plate when I was done.

I puttered around, trying to get things cleaned up, but I gave up and decided to leave the house and go to Pilates. Maybe some endorphins would help. It was worth a shot.

The gym wasn’t far from my place, so I walked with my mat slung over my shoulder. The air had just the slightest chill to it, broadcasting that fall was on the way. My favorite season, normally. Something told me that not even stepping on crunchy leaves and giving out candy on Halloween was going to cheer me up this year.

Keeping a smile on my face, I checked in at the desk and went to the locker room before bringing my mat, water, and towel to the Pilates room.

The class was absolutely packed for a Sunday afternoon, which was normally fine with me, but I would have enjoyed some more space around my mat.

There were a few familiar faces, but I avoided them so I didn’t have to make small talk or endure their knowing glances and questions. While I did live in a city, it was a small one, and a lot of people knew me from Between the Sheets or high school. In fact, I’d known about this class because of one of our book club members, Devyn, our fearless leader. She always managed to put together a class that gave you the best bang for your buck and left you wanting to curse her name.

Shaking and sweating and cursing was exactly what I needed today, I hoped.

There was an empty space in front of me and I hoped it would stay that way so I could have a good view out the window, but of course right before class started, someone laid their mat down.

My luck had been absolutely shitty lately.

Determined to make the most of the class anyway, I gave Devyn all my attention as she started us with a warm-up.

By the time we were even halfway through the class, I was ready to cry. All of my muscles shook and sweat poured down my chest as I tried to remember how to function.

Why did I do this to myself? I wasn’t having fun. I wasn’t enjoying myself. The music was good, and that was about it.

“And hold it for five, four, threeeeee, twooooo…and one!” Devyn always drew out that countdown from five and I gave her a dirty look that she ignored. I didn’t think I was the only one.

I made it through the class, ending it slumped on my mat like a wrung-out dishrag. How the hell was I supposed to get home? My legs weren’t in working order anymore.

“Fuck me,” I said softly to myself.

“Okay,” a voice said, and I sat up, wincing only to meet the eyes of the woman who’d parked her mat in front of me.

She had two-colored hair that was half brown, the other half dyed platinum blonde. It wasn’t a look that many people could pull off, but she made it work. Her face was also decorated with a silver septum piercing. That worked for her too. Something about her made me stare for a second.

She looked…familiar? Yeah, I’d definitely seen her before.

“Delaney?” she asked, and everything fell into place with a snap.

James . James St. Clair. Connor’s sister, who was my age.

My mouth had never just hung open in shock before, but it was happening now.

“What a small world,” she said with a smile, as if she was happy to see me.

After a second, my shock turned to a very familiar emotion: distilled rage.

Moving quicker than I thought was possible after that workout, I stood up and grabbed my stuff, not even bothering to clean off my mat or roll it up.

I had to get out of here. Get away from her. Get away from all the St. Clairs. No good ever came from me talking to a St. Clair. That was true now more than ever.

This month was the absolute worst. Stumbling through the gym, I made it to the locker room to change, got all my stuff together, and bolted, keeping my head down as much as I could.

I managed to make it outside the gym before I heard someone calling my name.

“Hey, Delaney, wait!”

No thank you, I wasn’t going to be doing that. Speeding up, I moved as fast as I could without actually running, my lungs and legs burning.

Cardio. I needed to do more cardio.

No way, fuck that. All I needed to do right now was to get away from James.

Huffing and puffing, I booked it, but it seemed like she kept gaining on me. Okay, I should have done more cardio, but I hadn’t known I would have needed it to escape James St. Clair.

She’d been voted “most likely to be famous” in the yearbook and had given the city the middle finger on her way off to do that.

Guess it hadn’t worked out and now she was back to ruin my life.

Connor hadn’t said a word about her moving back, but we’d never really talked about his sister. Him, because the world revolved around him, and me because I had wanted to forget she existed.

“Delaney, wait.” A hand grabbed my arm and made me stop, but I’d been about to collapse from a stitch in my side anyway. Gasping, I braced my hands on my shaking legs. Never run after Pilates.

“Running away from me? Really?” I turned my head and peered up at her. Of course she wasn’t breathing hard and looked like a fitness model in her matching black bra and legging set. Had she even broken a sweat during class?

“Fuck. You,” I gasped out. Was I ever going to be able to breathe again? Unlikely.

“Deep breaths,” she told me, and I glared at her and gave her my middle finger.

“Are you running away from me because of school or my brother or both?” she asked.

“Fuck off,” I said, finally starting to get my lungs under control. For things that were supposed to keep you alive, they were surprisingly finicky.

Wincing, I stood to my full height, which was only a few inches shorter than James’s. That was more annoying than I could put into words at the moment. She shouldn’t get to be taller than me.

Her septum piercing glinted in the sun as she gazed at me, taking me in.

I didn’t want to be taken in, least of all by her.

“Leave me alone,” I said, and started walking again.

“Where are you going? I can at least give you a ride.”

I would rather get run over by her car than sit in it.

“Just leave me alone, James,” I called out. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Her footsteps didn’t follow me and a few streets later I glanced over my shoulder to see that she wasn’t behind me anymore. Good.

Unfortunately, in my rush to avoid her, I’d gone in the opposite direction of my apartment, so I had to backtrack on my sore legs.

What a day. Pilates was supposed to be an escape, but it had done the opposite.

James St. Clair was here, and I was going to do whatever I could to avoid her for the rest of my life.