Never Again

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I was eighteen when Jack and I started dating. Do you know how old you were then?”

  He frowned then shrugged.

  He knew, he simply didn’t want to voice it.

  “You were an eight-year-old boy. I was old enough to drink and vote, old enough to drive and make every decision any other adult could, and you were a boy in third grade. A decade is a lifetime, Bran. I think it’s incredibly naïve of you to expect that I could come to you as a thirty-year-old woman without any sort of baggage. People often marry in their twenties, and sadly, they often get divorced too. To end our relationship because I don’t qualify for a divorce yet is just shooting us both in the foot. If I know my marriage is over, and Jack knows our marriage is over, then why can’t you and I be together? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “You’re missing the point, Cora. We are over because of the secrecy. You’ve been going to marriage counselling this whole fucking time, secretly working on a marriage you claim to be over. That means you were either lying to your husband, or were lying to me. People don’t do counselling for almost three months when they aren’t interested in reconciling.”

  “Ordinarily I’d agree with you. But during the first session, I was told that if I walked out that door, the order would remain for the full twelve months. I was advised that the sessions were court ordered. To breach that court order was to guarantee the continuance of the intervention order. There was never any thought of reconciliation on my behalf.”

  “And yet, Wednesdays were the one day I couldn’t expect to see you, they were also times you were quiet or upset. Not once did you trust me enough to let me inside your head. You kept it all hidden, told me you were mine, and kept that very important detail from me. Maybe if you’d explained that from the beginning, I would have understood. Maybe, if you’d trusted me enough to spare me the shock of finding some guy laying his hands on you in public, I could have been prepared.”

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t have touched me if you’d known I was married.”

  He released a heavy sigh. “On that first night, if I’d seen you wearing a ring, or if you’d mentioned your breakup when we spoke at the bar, no, I wouldn’t have touched you at all. But after that…fuck, Cora, after that first taste of you, I was addicted. You could have told me you were a monster in human skin and I still would have wanted you.”

  We stared at each other across the table, the silence in the room buzzing around us. I wanted to leap across the table, sit on his lap, and wrap myself around him, breathing in that intoxicating scent that was so unequivocally him.

  “Your father knows about us,” I whispered.

  “I’m fairly sure the whole of Melbourne knows. You must be in a panic over everyone looking at you and thinking you’re a cougar.”

  I ignored the jibe. “He said that this is what you do. That you have a thing for women in a position of power.”

  He dropped his gaze, running his fingers through his hair roughly, messing it even further. “I told you I’ve always been attracted to older women. There were times when those women were teachers, and sure, I got a kick out of seducing them, but it wasn’t a thing I did on purpose.”

  “There seems to be a bit of a pattern of behaviour here. Wasn’t the woman before me a university lecturer?”

  He swiped a hand across his face. “Yes. She was. But it was just something I did because I was young and stupid and hormonal. If you’re interested in knowing, I fucked some of my friends’ mothers too, simply because I could.”

  I hated hearing this. He was far more experienced than I was, even at ten years my junior, and it sounded like he slept around without much thought of the consequences.

  “Your friends’ mothers?”

  “Single mothers,” he clarified, taking a sobering breath. Jesus, how many women has this man ploughed through? The thought made me feel sick. Could I look past that? If he could sleep with all these women then claim it didn’t mean anything, and he did it ‘just because he could’, what was stopping him from doing it again? Just because he could. It felt like a cold hand slapping my face.

  Wouldn’t I be the naïve one to continue something with someone capable of acting on impulses simply because he can?

  “You’re talking like this behaviour happened years ago, but it was only months before you and me. I’m honestly starting to wonder if maybe your father is right. Maybe this is just something you do. Now that you and I are out in the open, will you lose interest and take off like you did with the others? Will I just be another older woman left in your wake, a mess for your father to clean up?”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he snapped. “None of that shit has a thing to do with my interest in you. I met you having no idea you were about to be my boss. The nightclub was dark, and I didn’t even know you were older than me. I wanted you because of the way you moved on that dance floor. There wasn’t a single thing about my desire for you that was for kicks.”

  “You didn’t get a kick out of seducing me?”

  His eyes darkened as he waited a beat to answer. “I didn’t seduce you, Cora. I reached out and took you.”

  Yes, he did, which was what made this all so much harder. “And yet you’re leaving me, just like all the others. Are you even capable of long-term, Bran?” He’d made me feel like I was the centre of his world, but now that he was turning his back on me, I wondered if he did that with his other women too.

  His lips pursed as his breathing grew heavy through his nose. He was getting pissed off. Good. I was pissed off too. He was being pigheaded.

  “I. don’t. leave,” he roared. “I’m the one who keeps getting fucked over. I’m the one forced to relocate while they all just walk the fuck away, not giving a shit about me and my feelings. You’ll do the same. My father will pay you off or fast-track your career, and you’ll walk away, just like the rest. No one fights for me!”

  “What the fuck do you call this?” I shouted, my finger pointing at my chest. “I forced my way in here, made a fool of myself on the street yesterday, all because I’m in love with you, Bran. You’re not even trying!” My pitch rose and angry tears sprung from my eyes. I stood and turned away, my hands covering my face as I took a few deep breaths. This was getting out of hand, and I needed to stay calm.

  There was a knock, and Constable Reeves opened the door. “Time’s up,” he said, looking between us with wary eyes.

  I wiped my hand over my face and put on a bright smile. “Can we have five more minutes? Please?” The moment his eyes met mine, his features softened with understanding. He nodded then left the room.

  When I turned back, Bran’s face was angled away from me, his leg bouncing under the table.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me why you were pulled out of school?” I asked, trying to understand why his secrets were less damning than mine.

  “Because you’d think I was some sort of pervert with a fetish for older woman,” he stated, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

  “Are you?”

  Meeting my eyes, he stared at me for a moment, hurt. “No,” he said angrily. “Fuck you for even asking that.”

  “Can you blame me? You’re sitting there judging me for hiding my past when you’ve done exactly the same thing. Except when you do it, it’s all OK.”

  “It hardly compares.” He laughed, the sound anything but jovial.

  “Hardly?” Hello, pot. I’d like to introduce you to kettle. “Are you even listening to what you’re saying?” Just like when a witness was caught out on the stand, I noted the way his gaze shifted to the side, giving away his thoughts. He just realised he was being a hypocrite, but wasn’t willing to admit it out loud. “I hid my past relationship from you because I worried about how you’d react.”

  “You hid a marriage.” The last word came out strained, punching me in the heart.

  “I know,” I whispered. “And I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that your mother messed up and that it’s coloured yo
ur life. But this isn’t the same. I had left my marriage both physically and emotionally. I came to you with an open heart.”

  His hands flew to his face, fists balled against his eyes. “God, you don’t understand,” he forced out, emotion and tension coating his words.

  I sat down and reached across the table, placing my hand over his forearm. “Then explain it to me so I do.”

  He lowered his hands and blew the air out of his lungs, his eyes red-rimmed and patchy. “Jesus, Cora, I feel like a fucking pussy,” he grunted, wiping angrily at his eyes.

  “Talk to me, Bran. It’s just you and me, no pussies around.” I placed my hand on his. He looked at our fingers for a moment, moving his against mine, then he sat back and raked at his hair again.

  “I just…I feel like I’m always on borrowed time. I have been sent away more times than I can count. I guess I was either in the way, unwanted, or an embarrassment, I don’t know. When my parents split, I thought it would all stop, that Mum would take me with her and I wouldn’t have to live this lie anymore. But she left without looking back and I remained the bastard son that no one wanted.”

  There it was, that vulnerability I’d seen. My heart ached for him, knowing that he’d spent his whole life feeling that way. It seemed he was forever waiting for the proverbial ball to drop. His whole life, he’d been taught that when things blew up, you packed up and moved off.

  “You don’t have to leave this time, Bran,” I assured him, my hand still reached out even though he wasn’t taking it.

  “With you,” he continued, not responding to me. “I felt…different, like I’d finally found my home. It’s stupid because we’ve only known each other a short time, but being with you felt right.” He frowned and shook his head. “Discovering you’re married… It made everything between us feel like a lie. You turned me into the other guy, and I had no fucking clue. Do you understand that? I’ve had enough lies and secrets to last a lifetime, Cora. I can’t breathe anymore because of them.”

  The door opened again, interrupting us at worst possible time. “I’m sorry,” Constable Reeves said. “We need the room.”

  “It’s OK,” I assured him even though it wasn’t, and I was close to tears. I swallowed them down. “We can talk after the hearing.”

  “There won’t actually be a hearing. The complainant called in. He’s dropped the charges. I would have told you earlier, but…” He shrugged, not needing to explain that he knew we were dealing with something rather personal.

  Bran released an audibly relieved sigh, while I smiled, glad that for once, Jack managed to do the right thing—even if I did have to almost break his arm. Actually, his dick.

  “This was you?” he asked as we stood to follow the constable out.

  I nodded. “I hope that’s OK. I made a few threats to get him to back off.”

  “Of course.” He caught my hand just as we stepped into the hall, then stopped me by dropping his weight against the wall. His exhaustion aged him under the harsh fluorescent lighting. When he looked into my eyes, I saw his torn emotions: anger, sadness, and more surprisingly desire. I could barely breathe wondering what that meant.

  “We should go. They don’t like us hanging around the halls.” My voice came out as a whisper. I wanted so much to lean into him, to hold his palm to my cheek and kiss along his arm until our lips met. I wanted to take him home and tangle our bodies for hours on end, closing the world out until we’d somehow merged into one. But I did none of that. Instead, I stood there, silent, hoping he wouldn’t turn my heart away while also knowing that was exactly what he was going to do. The realisation was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “Listen to me for a second,” he started, his eyes dropping to focus on our hands.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “Don’t,” I whispered.

  “Cora.” His hands shifted and he caught my head in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine. My tears started falling and I shook my head.

  “Let’s just go,” I gasped, sniffling as I tried to pull back and urge him to come with me. “Come home with me. We can talk all night.”

  His head moved side to side. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” I sniffed, my throat closing. I was out of energy. Out of arguments. I’d laid my case in front of him, and he, as the judge and jury in this instance, refused to consider the plea. I pulled back, wanting to get angry, but all I could do was cry pitifully.

  “I’m trying here,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I really am. It means a hell of a lot that you came down here, that you’re fighting for me to stay. But, I don’t know if I can. I’m fighting against something that’s controlled so much of my thoughts for years. I can’t just forget the lies that brought us to this point.”

  My hands wrapped around his wrists and I pushed my body against his, our foreheads grinding. I wanted him to let go. He was breaking my heart. “You could try harder.” My words forced their way out between my teeth.

  “I just need some time. I need to think. I need to get my head straight.” Still holding on to me, he lifted his head, pressing a hard kiss against my forehead as I fought against him.

  “Ms Knowles and Mr Sharp.” The desk sergeant’s curt voice broke through just as Bran released me. I pressed my palms against my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her.

  “Perhaps you can finish this…moment outside when Mr Sharp has collected his belongings,” she suggested.

  “It’s fine. We’re done. There’s nothing left to say.” I stepped out of his reach.

  Why were the men who claimed to love me so willing to hurt me?

  “Cora,” Bran called softly.

  “You know what, you keep saying that our age doesn’t matter, but it does. If you were just a tiny bit older, you’d have the maturity to understand that I’m not your mother.”

  “I haven’t thought that for a second,” he shot back.

  “Then quit punishing me for something she did!” I’m so fucking over not being what someone really wants. Being punished for someone else’s issues. I was beyond done with that shit.

  The desk sergeant inflated her chest, her eyes wild as I stormed past her. “Leave,” she insisted.

  “I’m going!”

  With a clear focus on the exit, I didn’t pause once until I was on the street, sucking in great gulps of air, trying to calm down. He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t understand what he was giving up. He was angry at a woman who wasn’t even me. I tried—maybe I failed—but all I could do now was wait and hope that his love for me would open his eyes, because if it didn’t, I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do. The day before, he’d likened loving me to water because water couldn’t be held.

  But his analogy was wrong. Water was necessary to life. Living things simply couldn’t exist without it.

  36

  “I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner,” Olivia said a few hours later when I’d finally settled down. We’d been on the phone since I got home from the station after my failed attempt to reconcile with Bran. She was sitting on her balcony, eating pretzels, and I was sitting on the roof of my apartment building near the pool, drinking wine straight out of the bottle and eating a family bag of Kettle Chips to myself in a bid to ingest my feelings. My emotional go-to was normally chocolate, but I was too upset for chocolate. In fact, I was a total mess.

  At the start of the phone call, I’d subjected Olivia to more blubbering over Bran in between mouthfuls and crunches. She’d offered to come over and sit with me, but when I refused, she told me to get my binoculars and go to the roof. The idea had been just crazy enough that it got me to compose myself and explain exactly what happened.

  “Ugh. Relationships. They’re too fucking painful,” she commented. “Feelings are the devil.”

  “I think I hate love,” I sighed. “I should have listened to you.”

  She laughed. “No, you shouldn’t. What th
e fuck do I know? I’m pregnant to a twenty-six-year-old scientist who has become my live-in lover and won’t stop proposing to me.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare.” I smiled, holding my binoculars to my eyes so I could see her. She was stretched out on a chaise lounge with her feet crossed at the ankles and her hand resting on her growing belly. I felt a pang of longing in my gut.

  “You have no idea,” she commented, just as the sliding door opened and Paul came out handing her something in a glass.

  “Did Paul just make you a milkshake?” I asked, laughter in my voice as I watched her try to shoo him away. He didn’t listen, just sat at the base of her chair and started massaging her feet.

  “It’s so I get enough calcium. This man is a hoverer, always making sure I’m OK, that I have something to eat or drink, that I’m not working too hard. It’s exhausting.”

  I heard his voice, faint in the background. “You love it.” Then she smiled and teased him with her foot. It was nice to see her looking happy despite her objections.

  “A man to dote on you? It sounds and looks like torture,” I deadpanned, taking a sip of wine. I was beginning to feel lightheaded and probably needed to go to bed before I got so drunk that I fell into the pool and drowned a sad and lonely rejected woman. At least I’d go knowing Olivia was taken care of… “I’m going to bed.”

  “No. Don’t go. I can get rid of him so we can man-bash some more.” I watched her kick her feet to shoo him away. The whole situation made me laugh, which was a pretty amazing feat since I was feeling more than a little numb at this point.

  “It’s fine. I honestly don’t think I can talk anymore. I’m beat.”

  “What are you going to do about Bran?”

  I shrugged. “There isn’t much else I can do. He knows how I feel. I can’t force him to forgive me or to feel the same way.”

  “Of course he feels the same way. He loves you.”

  “Yeah. But does he love me enough to put his pride and insecurities aside?”

  “Of course he does. He’ll be knocking on your door before you know it.”