Everything I Can Never Have (Age & Innocence Book 2)

by M Johnson

  She leans closer to me, her hand snaking around my neck and, suddenly, her lips are too close to mine. I can smell her perfume and there’s wine on her breath, although she isn’t drinking anything now.

  I pull back, and she has to right herself on her stool or fall off.

  “Zave,” she says. Her voice is almost pleading.

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m one hundred per cent committed to Sofie. I love her.”

  Maria’s eyes fill with tears when I say it, but I don’t regret my words. I do love Sofie. What Maria and I had disappeared a long time ago and I’m not going to go back. I can’t. Sofie is in front of me and I’m going to keep moving forward.

  I stand.

  “Where are you going?” Maria asks, her voice brittle.

  “You’re right,” I say. “I have to fight for her.”

  I throw back the rest of my whiskey and scowl as it burns down my throat. When I walk out of the room, out of the house, Maria doesn’t call me back or try to come after me.

  I drive all the way back to Sofie’s place. I’m not going to let her run me off again. I know she needs me. I probably know better than anyone.

  When I open the door without knocking, she stands from the couch where she’s been sitting. Her eyes fill with rage, blazing at me when she storms to me. Her hands are balled into fists, her body moving forward by her fury.

  “What the fuck are you doing back here?” she hisses at me. “I thought I told you to leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I say.

  “Get away from me!” she shouts. “Get out, get out!” She hammers her fists against my chest and tells me to leave. I grab her around her body, pulling her tightly against me, and even though she is still trying to fight me off her, she has nothing against my strength. She squirms and fights a few moments longer, before she goes limp against me and her shoulders shake as she cries.

  “Sofie,” I say softly.

  “Just go,” she says in a voice that breaks my heart.

  But I’m not going to do it. I won’t leave. I’m about to tell her that when she pushes me so hard I nearly fall. I didn’t expect it or the new wave of punches raining down on me. I grab her wrists to stop her, and she trips over her own feet, going down, and taking me down with her. I try and stop her from hurting herself, by pinning her to the floor so she’ll stop fighting me.

  She cries, tears running over her cheeks, sobs racking her body so hard she can barely breathe.

  “It’s going to be okay, honey,” I murmur. “I know it hurts. I know it feels like the darkness will never end, but it does. Mine ended with you. I’m not going anywhere, Sofe. I’m staying right here.”

  “It’s all my fault,” she whispers. “I wasn’t there to notice when he got sick, and now he’s gone and I can’t fix it.”

  I brush the hair out of her face as she cries, then I shift my body off of hers, because she’s calm enough that she won’t hit me again. I cradle her against me, soothing her as I rock her in my arms.

  “It’s not your fault. He didn’t want you to know.”

  “But I could have done something. I could have been there for him.” She hiccoughs through her tears. “I’m so angry, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m angry you didn’t tell me. I’m angry at Maria. No one fucking told me!”

  “I know.” I’m to blame for that.

  “But most of all, I’m angry at him. For leaving me when I still need him. How am I supposed to do this alone?”

  I stroke her hair and her sobs slowly subside, becoming hiccoughs, and then finally fading away.

  “You’re not alone,” I whisper.

  She’s exhausted, her body can’t handle the grief, so I hold her against me, then struggle to my feet with her in my arms. I hold her tightly against me all the way to the bedroom and tuck her into bed. I get into the bed next to her, and she lies on my chest, crying in her sleep. I hold her all night, being here for her when she needs me, letting her cry, letting her sleep, giving her anything she might need.

  When I wake up again, the morning is grey. The light that falls through the window looks as grim as I feel. I get up, moving carefully so I don’t wake her, and close the curtains so she can sleep longer. I shower and change, then find something to eat, before I head back to the bedroom where Sofie is still sleeping.

  She’s exhausted, and she sleeps most of the time.

  I watch her while she rests, hoping and praying that she’ll be okay. When she finally opens her eyes, it’s well past lunch. She blinks her eyes at me and sits up slowly, as if she’s fragile. She shifts on the bed and crosses her legs.

  “You’re still here,” she says, her voice hoarse from all the crying.

  I nod. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

  She nods and doesn’t tell me to leave, which I take as a win.

  “Do you want anything to eat?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, but then nods. “Maybe a piece of toast.”

  I run to the kitchen to make it for her, putting only butter on it. I know what it feels like to be where she is. She needs food but she won’t be able to stomach much. When I take the plate to her, she takes it from me and nibbles on the toast.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asks.

  I nod. “Anything.”

  “How did you find out?”

  I tell her everything. When I’m done talking, she doesn’t respond. I reach for her, but she shakes her head and leans away from me.

  “How could you keep that from me?” she asks, turning eyes on me that are full of resentment. “He’s gone, Zave. Forever.”

  I swallow harshly. “I know.”

  She pushes her fingers against her temples and closes her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is so soft, I can barely hear it.

  “Can you just…”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Leave,” she says, lifting her head and looking at me. “Just leave, Zave.”

  I sigh. She’s still angry, and all she wants is to push me away, but she’s not going to.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “God, you’d think this shit would run dry, eventually.” She laughs as she touches her cheeks, then looks at her fingers as if the tears are a foreign entity. “Why won’t you just give me what I want?”

  “I spent my whole life pushing people away,” I say. “Let me in, Sofie. Let me be there for you. Let me love you.”

  When she looks up at me again, more tears roll over her cheeks and she doesn’t look angry anymore. She just looks broken.

  “I want to,” she says. “I want to let you love me. I just—”

  “I know,” I say and walk to the bed.

  When I sit on the mattress and pull her against me, she doesn’t push me away. She lets me hold her, lets me stroke her hair, and then she lets me kiss her.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” she finally says.

  “I’m not going to,” I answer.

  I cup her cheeks and kiss her again. She leans against me, accepting me—accepting that I’m staying. I feel like I haven’t been with her in years, and my need for her grows until it’s indescribable. I pull back, but she shakes her head.

  “No, I want this,” she says.

  “You just lost your father.”

  “And I need the release. Please.”

  I look into her eyes and stroke her hair, realising this is what she wants, what she needs. I kiss her again. With my hands, I trace her profile and run my fingers through her hair, then stroke her back. I run my fingers up her sides, and finally, I cup her breasts. She moans softly into my mouth.

  I undress her, carefully, as if she’s going to fall apart. I kiss her as I do, slowly lifting her shirt over her head. She lies back so that I can undo her pants and pull them down. Her hands tug at my shirt, and I help her undress me. When we’re both naked, I roll half onto her, pinning her down, and she moans. I use my hands to caress her, and her breathing changes. All the while,
we’re kissing. She’s trying to pour all her grief into this, and I let her, because she needs it.

  She stops kissing me and starts moving down my body, her lips against me as far as she goes. I shiver, goosebumps breaking out all over my skin.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say.

  She glances up at me. “I want to.” She smiles, and it’s the first time in a long time I’ve seen anything other than tears on her face. “Let me love you,” she whispers.

  I drop my head back on the pillows and let her do what she wants to do. I happen to love the way she touches me. I moan when she wraps her fingers around my shaft and suck my breath through my teeth when she sucks the head of my cock into her mouth. When I lift my head to look down at her, she rolls her eyes up at me.

  I can see her need to escape, and she throws herself into sex with me. I’m not complaining, but on a different level I understand her need for release, to do something intense just to get it out of her system, to feel something other than pain and sorrow.

  She starts moving her head up and down, sucking me in and pulling back again. I moan and grunt as she pushes me into a state of euphoria. I can’t believe how good she is at this.

  After a while, and just when I think I won’t be able to hold back, Sofie lets go of me. She crawls over my body, lying on top of me, and kisses me again. I roll us both over so that I’m on top and I run my hands along the length of her body, as far down as I can reach while my lips are hovering over hers. She opens her legs for me and I push against her entrance. She moans softly when I do and when I slide into her, she’s more than ready for me.

  She cries out, and I hear her let go of the pain as she does, her cry filled with passion, lust, and her need for me. I start moving, sliding in and out of her and her pussy clamps down around me. But I’m not focusing on the sensation on my cock—no matter how amazing it feels. I focus on her, kissing her, caressing her, running my hands through her hair.

  She orgasms, and when she does, I can see the relief. I want her to keep doing it. Her body curls against mine, gripping onto me as if she’s afraid to let go. I don’t want her to. I want her to hold on to me, need me, and use me as a release, as much as she needs it.

  She’s hot and she feels like heaven, and before long, I need to come, too. I start moving faster, gasping and moaning—the sounds of our sex fills the room. Tears well up in her eyes and when I’m on the brink of an orgasm, she grabs my ass, digging her nails into my skin, pulling me as deeply into her as I can go. I can’t hold back and explode inside of her. We moan and cry out together. I don’t think we’ve ever been this close.

  “That was… intense,” she whispers, her cheeks flushed.

  I plant kisses all over her face as we lie together, basking in the afterglow of our sex, and she trembles and shivers around me. When I pull out of her, I tug the sheets until it covers us and pull her tightly against me. Her breasts are pressed against my chest and her skin is silky-smooth beneath my fingers as I run my hands over her skin. She’s petite and delicate and perfect.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “For this… and for staying.”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “We can hide away for as long as you need to. Just don’t shut me out.”

  She nods and kisses me again, because it’s easier than talking. Tears stream down her cheeks, but it’s okay. There’s only one way to heal, and that’s by facing it and we’ll face it together.

  “I love you, Zave,” she says after a long silence. “Don’t leave me, okay?”

  “I’ll never fucking go, baby girl,” I say, and I mean it with every fibre in my being. “I’m always here for you.”

  Chapter 22

  Sofie

  The cool breeze brushes the soft fabric of my dress against my legs. Goosebumps prickle my skin, but I barely notice the cold, even though my body is starting to shiver. I feel so numb, like I’ve been sucked into a whirlwind of darkness that I can’t pull myself out of.

  Thursday, exactly one week after I found out my father was dying, I buried him.

  Staring down at the grave, I breathe in, the scent of the freshly dug soil filling my lungs. Emptiness swirls in my stomach, almost taking my breath away. I keep hoping it’s all just a bad dream, and that any moment, I’m going to wake up and find Dad in the kitchen, making pancakes and scolding me because I didn’t put the milk away, but of course, I don’t.

  The gravestone won’t be set up for another couple of weeks because the ground has to settle first, which means there’s nothing to say that he’s lying here. It’s just a brown patch of soil, and nothing else.

  “Sofe?”

  Zave’s voice makes me jump, but I don’t look up. Everyone else is leaving the cemetery, but I can’t bring myself to move just yet. Leaving signals some kind of finality, like I’ve accepted that he’s gone and I’m not ready for that.

  Zave stands next to me, his hand over mine, letting me take all the time I need. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer against his chest, feeding me his warmth. When he tilts my lips up to his, I stiffen. Dad’s friends and what’s left of our extended family are all here, no doubt watching me. What will they think if they see us kiss? I shouldn’t care, but I do.

  They know Zave was Dad’s best friend and I’m so young…

  “Not here. Not in front of everyone,” I croak.

  “Who cares what they think?” Zave asks, touching my cheek with his thumb. “I want to be here for you in every way you need me.”

  He has been here for me. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the last week without him. He’s been my rock. He’s handled everything, right down to the funeral arrangements, which I couldn’t bear the thought of organising myself. Today is the first day I’ve managed to even crawl out of bed. I didn’t want to come, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t say goodbye.

  “Sofie.”

  I spin out of Zave’s embrace to find Maria standing there, her eyes red and swollen, her usually flawless appearance not so perfect today. She steps forward and hugs me, but it feels stiff and awkward. Probably because I don’t know how to act around her. I’m still the other woman in this equation, and I’m standing next to the man she was married to for nearly twenty years. Hell, I’m in his arms right now. He was just kissing me, which she probably saw.

  “I’m so sorry,” Maria weeps, dabbing a tissue over her tears. “He was a wonderful man.”

  I nod and smile, because that’s all I’ve been doing today. Pretending that I’m coping, when inside, I’m falling apart.

  “Ready?” Zave asks me, flashing Maria a look.

  I nod and he puts his arm around me, then leads me to the car. I wish that were it, that we could go home now and hide away, but the day is only half over. Strangely enough, it’s the wake I’m dreading the most. It’s such a strange concept to me, a whole lot of people dressed in black, laughing, chatting, catching up, because they haven’t seen each other in ages. I guess there’s nothing like a funeral to bring everyone together. I’m happy they’re celebrating my dad’s life instead of mourning his death, though. It’s what Dad would have wanted. I can’t bring myself to celebrate anything, though.

  I’ve never felt so incredibly alone.

  The wake is at Traction. I hold up okay, considering the circumstances. I force myself to eat and when Zave brings me a shot, I drink it, just to take the edge off.

  It’s working too, until they play Somebody I Used to Know, which of course, makes me lose it. Choking back tears, I feel like the walls are closing in on me. Blocking out the song, I fight my way through the crowd and push out through the door that leads into the courtyard.

  Gasping, I suck down some air and try to focus on my breathing. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. The fresh air crushes my lungs, my chest aching with every inhale.

  The door clicks and Zave appears, holding another shot. I take it gratefully and neck it while he watches me, concerned.


  “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I answer truthfully. “But thanks.”

  “Lie back.”

  I look at Zave and narrow my eyes as he takes the empty glass from my hands and puts it on a nearby table. This is hardly the time or the place. He throws his head back and laughs at my expression.

  “Just trust me. Here, I’ll do it, too.”

  He sits down next to me and lies back. With a roll of my eyes, I lie back, too, and together, we gaze up at the stars.

  “When I was at my lowest point, I’d stare up at the stars for hours,” he explains. “They were always there, little pinpricks of light that never went out, no matter what was going on around me. No matter how bad things got, the stars were still up there, shining away, until things got better.” He cocks his head and I feel his eyes on me. “Things always get better, Sofe.”

  My chin quivers. I know he’s right, that things will get easier, but right in this moment, it’s hard to imagine I’ll ever be okay again. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the tears still spill out, rolling down my cheeks. I laugh, because this is all I do these days—cry.

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” I whisper.

  “I know.”

  Of course, he knows.

  He buried Dylan. He’s suffered the same pain, the same loss, that I’m feeling right now. I have too, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, things got better. They got better after Mum died. They got better after Dylan died, too. The difference is, Dad was there to help me through it, then. Now, he’s not. This time, I’m doing it all alone.

  “The stars won’t change, Sofie,” Zave whispers in my ear. “Whenever you need to, just look up and remind yourself that life will go on. They’ll always be there for you.”

  “But they’re just stars,” I snap, my voice breaking.

  “They are,” Zave agrees. “But you have me, too. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll always have me.”