by M Johnson
He smiles. “Yeah, I bet that’s exactly what it’s like.”
“Except maybe with not as many angry women.”
I smile weakly, but inside, I feel like my heart and soul are on fire, slowly dying right alongside with him. I can’t stomach the thought that soon I won’t be able to pick up the phone and call him. Fuck, how’s Sofie going to feel? He’s the only family she has.
This is going to destroy her.
“It’s a nice thought…” I stop, almost losing control of myself, but at the last minute, swallow down my emotions and rein it back in. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’ll save you a seat,” he tells me. “Right outside the afterlife version of Traction, yeah? The old bench you threw up all over after our last show.”
“Sounds good, man,” I say weakly, and squeeze his knee.
Aaron smiles. His eyes close for a long blink before he sucks in a breath and shifts his weight against the pillows.
“How’s Sofie?”
I clench my jaw, the knife of guilt buried in my gut and twisting slowly.
“She’s good,” I reply. “Doing well in school. I haven’t told her.”
“You have to watch out for her when I’m gone,” Aaron says, eyes sincere and inescapable when they lock with mine. “That’s why I wanted you to stay with her in the first place. You guys used to be so close, and I know Sofie’s going to need someone. She needs you.”
“I need to tell you something.”
“Is this about the time you scratched my car, because I already know it was you—”
“I kissed Sophie.”
Aaron’s jaw tenses. “You what?”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did, and then things kind of escalated from there, and… I’m sorry…” I shake my head. “You have no idea how sorry I am,” I say again.
Aaron stares straight ahead. I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. Not a single word. I shift on my feet, his silence worse than any abuse he could throw my way.
What if he fucking dies without speaking to me?
God, if he died while angry at me, it would kill me.
“Will you say something, already?” I growl.
“Can you pass me my drink?” he asks after a moment.
“What?” I gape at him.
That’s all he has to say to me?
My hands clench, because all I want is for him to scream at me or something. If the roles were reversed, I’d be pulverising the shit out of him right now. He can’t be okay with this. No way. The Aaron I know would blow a fuse. Unless he’s that sick, he can’t process what I’m telling him?
Fuck.
Why did I say anything at all?
“My drink.” He speaks calmly. “Pass it to me.”
Frowning, I reach over and grab the half-empty glass of apple juice from his table and hand it to him. Snatching it from me, he flicks his wrist, sending the contents spilling all over himself. He squeezes his eyes closed, his body shaking. I stare at him, bewildered. I can’t figure out if he’s laughing or crying.
“Jesus Christ, I can't even throw a glass of juice at you,” he mutters.
“What are you talking about?” I snap.
He glares at me, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. “I'm stuck in this bed dying, and all I want to do is throw some fucking juice at you because I can't stand up and punch the shit out of you like I really fucking want to—”
“Would that make you feel better?” I ask, shocked. “Punching me?”
He shrugs. “It’s sure as hell not going to make me feel worse.”
With a nod, I clench my hand into a tight fist, then hurl it at my face.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I howl, doubling over as pain shoots through me.
“What the hell are you doing?” Aaron yells, glaring at me.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” I retort. “If you can't punch me, then I'll punch myself for you.”
“I didn't ask you to do that,” Aaron growls. Then out of nowhere, he starts laughing.
“What the fuck is so funny?” I grumble, tenderly rubbing my temple.
“You. Us.” He shakes his head. “The fact that you just punched yourself in the face because I'm too weak to do it myself.” With a loud sigh, he lays his head back against the pillow and looks at me. “I'm so fucking angry with you right now, Zave. I mean, my daughter? You’re a fucking cunt.” He pauses for a breath, then releases it slowly. “But I'm also relieved she's not going to be alone. It kills me, thinking about how tough it’s going to be for her. Knowing that she has you… makes it a little easier.” He chokes on his words. “Fuck, man. I’m dying.”
“I'm sorry, I never meant for this to happen,” I mumble, feeling more helpless than I have in my life.
“I’m not. And just to be clear, if I wasn’t dying, your balls would be hanging from a hook at the front of my place so I could repeatedly punch the shit out of you. But, it is what it is.” He shoots me a look, his eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen before. “You better look after her, Zave. Hurt her and I swear, I’ll come back and haunt you.”
“I promise you I’ll look after her,” I speak with every fibre of my being. “If she ever speaks to me again.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“When she finds out I knew about you and didn’t tell her, you think she’s going to want to talk to me again?” Aaron’s lips press into a thin line. “You should think about telling her,” I add.
“I already told you, I don’t want this to be the way she has to remember me—”
“But that’s not your decision to make,” I say gently. “I get you’re trying to spare her pain, but don’t you think the pain is going to be worse if she doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye?”
“I can’t do it,” he mutters. “Call me selfish, whatever, but I can’t do that to her.”
“You have to let her know,” I beg my friend. “Can’t you imagine how she’s going to feel, knowing she could have said goodbye?”
“No. I don’t want her to see me like this.” His voice is harsh and firm, and I know he’s not going to budge. “I don’t want her last memory of me to be this.” He gestures to himself, and for the first time in years, I see tears in his eyes. God, this is killing him in every fucking way possible. “I’m speaking to her every day. She’ll have that to hold on to, but not this. I won’t let this be how she remembers me. You promised me.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve made a lot of promises I haven’t seen through,” I mutter.
Aaron frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Fuck. “Nothing,” I reply, and pat his knee again. “I won’t tell her, I promise.”
Aaron nods, a weak smile on his lips.
“Good.”
I sit with Aaron until he falls asleep, then I quietly let myself out, not waking Maria, who is curled up on the couch. I head back to the bar, since I can’t stand the thought of seeing Sofie. I can’t go home. I can’t stay here. The bar is the only place I feel like is mine.
As I’m leaving, I get a text from Sofie.
Sofie: Avoiding me again? I hope not.
My mouth twists in something that’s not quite a smile.
Me: Just busy lining up bands for the bar’s live music nights. I’ll be home soon.
I can’t face her yet, I just can’t.
Lying to her, seeing Aaron in so much pain and knowing I can’t fix it…
Everything is too much.
Lifting my head off the bar, I look around. It takes me a second to realise where I am. I pick up my phone and groan, because it’s four in the morning. I have too many missed calls from Sofie to count. I can’t deal with this now, so I switch off my phone.
I just need time to think.
How can I lose the only fucking person that’s always been there for me?
Stumbling to my feet, my mouth twists as I let out a helpless yell. I grab the closest thing to me, which happens to be a
bottle of vodka, and send it flying, crashing across the room in a wet shower of glass shards.
Once that starts, I can’t stop. I reach for another bottle and hurl that too, savouring the sound of it smashing against the wall. I don’t stop until I’ve destroyed nearly every bottle in the bar. I’m so pissed and angry that it feels fucking amazing to just let loose.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
I’m terrified of losing Aaron, and then also losing Sofie when she finds out I knew and didn’t tell her about it. There’s no way I can keep this from her. She’ll figure out something is wrong and she’ll keep at me until I give in. Avoiding her isn’t an option either. She won’t put up with much more of my brooding shit. I’m stuck between what I know is right and a promise I made to my friend. I owe him. More than anything in the world, I owe him this one small favour. I’m fucking his daughter, after all.
Jesus Christ.
What the fuck do I do?
Chapter 19
Sofie
Again with the damn silent treatment.
He won’t pick up my calls. My texts go unanswered. He keeps telling me nothing is wrong, but then he’ll disappear for days, and when he does show up, he acts like nothing is wrong. I can feel something isn’t right, though. No matter how much he tries to deny it.
If he isn’t going to tell me what it is, then I’ll just have to figure it out myself.
It’s late Thursday night and I’m standing outside Traction, watching Zave through the window. He’s behind the bar, leaning his head against the counter. Something is clearly bothering him, but I have no way of knowing what because he won’t talk to me.
I bite my lower lip, considering what to do, but before I get the chance to decide, Zave looks up and meets my eyes. He tenses when I open the door and step inside. I take in the broken glass and upended tables, the piles of broken shit scattered everywhere. My eyes widen in alarm, and then I see the bruise surrounding his right eye.
“What happened?” I gasp. “Did someone break in?”
Zave shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says.
“But your face…” My eyebrows rise, and I reach up to touch him, but he dismisses me again, waving his hand.
“Just a rowdy customer, but it’s all sorted now.” He circles the bar and approaches me. “Let’s go home.”
I nod silently, letting him drive me the short distance back home. Once we’re inside, I take his hand and kiss him. He’s so quiet and distant, his reservation showing when he kisses me back. It’s like his mind is a thousand miles away. Even when I touch him, dragging my hand down and cupping his cock to try and get him excited, he doesn’t visibly react except to exhale heavily. He takes my wrist and shakes his head. I frown and try to kiss him again.
He shifts further away from me, avoiding eye contact and anything else that might clue me in to what he’s feeling. It’s typical Xavier behaviour, but this time I’m not accepting it. I won’t let him push me away.
“I won’t let you do this, Zave,” I whisper. “Not now that you’ve made me fall in love with you. Let me in.”
His eyes flash with something unnameable. He looks at me, eyes wide.
“You’re in love with me?”
“I think I have been for a long time,” I admit. “It’s only recently, I felt like you might love me back.”
I watch as his eyes flash again, and his jaw clenches. He practically lunges for me, all the passion that was missing come rushing back like a freight train. He lifts me up against the bar in the living room. His breathing is heavy and loud, his hands harsh in my hair as he kisses down my neck and pushes my legs apart with his hips.
I kiss him desperately, digging my nails into his shoulders as I feel him finally starting to react. There’s so much passion and emotion in his kiss this time. Maybe this is all he needed to know—that I want him, that I need him, that I’m in this with him. He doesn’t have to worry about me backing away or being scared off, because there’s nothing he could do or say to make me doubt our connection.
Desire rises in me like a tidal wave, my legs shaking as he bites down on my neck and holds me still. He pushes my underwear aside, working his cock free so he can push inside me.
He rests our foreheads together, his eyes at half-mast as he fucks me hard enough that the glasses and bottles rattle on the bar. I wrap my legs and arms around him tightly, needing him deeper, harder. God, it feels so good when he’s inside me, like he wants to bury himself inside my body and never come out.
My throat goes tight as I kiss his forehead. I want to keep him safe and protect him from the monsters in his own head. He grabs me hard, bruising my thighs, pinching my ass as he pushes deep inside me, breathing out harshly. I sigh as he goes still, flooding me with warmth, then he kisses my neck, his shoulders abruptly going lax.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “That was faster than I’d intended.”
I laugh weakly, running my fingers through his hair. “It’s okay.”
He shakes his head, pulling out, and works his fingers between my folds, teasing my sensitive flesh. I whimper as he brushes his thumb over my clit in slow, hard circles, kissing me again until I’m breathless and weak. I arch against his hand, grinding helplessly against him. I bear down around his fingers, his lips quirking up in victory when I orgasm with a breathless, heavy sigh.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, making me blush and shiver.
He pulls his fingers out and tucks himself back in, then we head upstairs.
When I wake up, he’s not in bed with me. I frown, and glance at the clock. 4 a.m. I roll my eyes at myself for thinking he might actually spend the entire night with me. As I walk out of my room, my ears prick up because I can hear Zave downstairs. He’s talking to someone, but his voice is too low for me to make out the words. I hesitate, then creep halfway down the stairs, making sure I’m out of sight, then tilt my head to listen better. I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but it’s four in the morning. Who on earth could he be talking to?
“I can’t keep lying to her, Maria.” His voice is low and harsh. “She deserves to know the truth.”
My frown deepens, a harsh suspicion rising in my chest. I continue down the stairs and enter the kitchen. Zave whirls around, his eyes widening with surprise and guilt.
“I-I gotta go.”
Wordlessly, he ends the call and slides his phone back in his pocket, the whole time avoiding my gaze. I’m shaking, I’m so angry. He’s making it really hard for me to convince myself that this isn’t what it looks like. Deep down in my heart, I feel I know exactly what’s going on here. His expression tells me everything I need to know.
“Sofie—”
“Don’t.”
Cold and hard, my voice doesn’t sound like my own. He takes a step towards me and I take one back. I don’t say anything. I turn around to leave. I can hear him chasing me down.
“Sofie, please wait!” he calls.
Shaking my head, I keep running. I open the door and race out into the front garden. Zave grabs my arm, turning me around and pulling me against him. Sobbing against his chest, I try to fight him, but he’s too big and strong. He sweeps my legs and pins me to the ground.
“I knew it!” Tears flood my eyes as I shriek at him. “You’re still fucking her, aren’t you?”
“Jesus,” he snaps, his dark eyes full of so many emotions. “Sofie, this isn’t about Maria.”
My heart literally stops, because if it’s not that, then what is it?
“Tell me,” I demand.
He hesitates, driving the knife deeper into my chest, then he bows his head.
“I can’t tell you,” he rasps.
I laugh harshly. “You can’t fucking tell me?”
“I made a promise.”
I laugh again. “To her? You can’t tell me because you made a promise to your goddamn ex-wife? What the fuck, Zave? Do you realise how absolutely—”
“Sofie.” I clench my jaw, glaring at him. He sighs and sits upr
ight. “I made a promise to your dad.”
That stops me in my tracks. “What?”
“Fuck,” he hisses, driving his fist down into the ground. He growls in pain, the moment of distraction enough that I can scramble out from beneath him and sit up. I glare at him.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“He’s dying, Sofe.”
I stare at him, unable to comprehend what he’s just said. He looks so fucking guilty, I have no idea if he’s telling the truth, but why would he lie about that? What kind of psychopath makes up a lie about a dying dad to cover an affair?
“He’s dying of pancreatic cancer,” he says, sitting down on the grass next to me.
“No,” I whisper. “You’re wrong. He’s overseas. I just spoke to him yesterday…”
“He’s been in a townhouse across town,” Zave gently says. “I thought he was the person Maria was cheating on me with, but when I went to confront him, I found him and he’s…” He lets out a long exhale. “It’s all true. He’s dying. He made me promise not to tell you. That’s why Maria was calling. He’s in the hospital… he doesn’t have much time left.”
I stare up at him. “Take me there.”
He nods, swallowing harshly, and gets up, helping me to my feet. We go to the car, the silence between us tense and charged. My thoughts are a whirl, my heart racing in my chest.
What the hell is this?
I can’t… my dad can’t be dying. I bite down on my lip, willing myself not to cry.
Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.
The sun is just rising as we turn into the parking garage at The Royal Melbourne Hospital. I stare straight ahead as Zave parks, unable to believe what I might walk in and see. It’s a beautiful day, but it might as well be the worst day ever, because my father is dying.