Never Forever

by Johnson, L. R.

  Opening my eyes I discover him looking at me with a sense of urgency. Instantly he wraps his arms around me, lifting me off of the bed and to my feet. Holding me tightly against his body, his eyes bear down on me. Silence rolls through us while he takes in every detail of my face. My heart thumps rapidly against my chest, causing a sensation of yearning to consume me. Reacting to my need, Callum’s mouth presses powerfully against mine. His hands grip onto the bottom edge of my shirt with a craving pulsating through them. His hands roam upwards, taking my shirt with them. The tips of his fingers gently trace my spine, causing my body to explode with goose-bumps.

  “My God, your skin does feel like cream,” he breathlessly utters in a low, gruff tone.

  His trembling fingers reach the protective clasp of my bra, sending a nervous energy to surge within me, “Wait.”

  Stopping immediately, a soft laugh exhales from his mouth, “Okay. Am I moving too fast?” His breathless voice shows signs of strain.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I stutter out, trying to catch my breath.

  He raises a quizzical eyebrow, “Strange timing, but yes, you can ask me anything,” he says, now rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous reaction.

  Loosening his tight grip on me, I rest my chin in the valley of his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly beneath me.

  “Where did you run off to the other day?” I utter, while my hands remain tightly wrapped around him. The muscles in his back stiffen suddenly. The tender, slow circles he is tracing on my back stop, his hand twitches a tad.

  Dropping his head down until it rests softly on the top of mine, a heavy exhale flows out of his mouth, “My father’s grave.”

  Wrapping my arms even tighter around him, a sense of relief washes over me as I hear him finally tell me what I already know. Resting my cheek against his firm chest, I can feel his muscles quiver and tighten. His usual relaxed demeanor transforms into a stiff rod.

  “You don’t seem surprised by my statement,” he utters in a questioning manner.

  “No, I’m not surprised,” I state, motionlessly.

  “Bloody hell!” His arms drop away from me, attempting to back away. I hold onto him tighter, locking him in my grasp. “My arse of a sister, she can’t keep her bloody mouth shut,” he utters in a thick roar.

  “Don’t be mad at her, she was just trying to help.” His muscles are still tight under my grasp though he has resigned himself to the fact that I am not about to let go.

  A sharp, sarcastic laugh rips through him, “Help? How was she helping you by telling you that?” A slight pause rolls through him. “What did she tell you?” he asks with a thick realization spinning on each word. He presses me slightly away from him, so that I can look straight into his caramel eyes.

  Lifting my head I meet his gaze head on, “She told me that your father died when your mother was pregnant with you. Soon after you were born your mom married your now stepfather, Olivia’s dad. Olivia only told me because she knew I needed to know.” Letting go of him I place my hands on either side of his scruffy face, forcing him to look down at me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  His eyes soften, breaking some of his arrogant shell away. He grasps my hands off his face, tenderly kisses them, and then sits down on the edge of my bed, “Why didn’t you tell me about your late husband, before I felt like a daft prick trying to steal someone’s wife or lover away?”

  An expression of dubious shock streams across my face, “What do you mean?”

  “Breanna, I felt like a bloody home wrecker every time I looked at you. I wanted you and Noah, and damn the man who wasn’t there for you. I tried everything to push my feelings for you out of my mind. I even agreed to something I should have never agreed to,” he suddenly shakes his head aggressively, as if he is pushing a horrific memory out of his mind. His firm face slowly takes on a softer shadow, “When you finally told me that your husband had died before you even knew you were pregnant, everything I thought I knew came crashing down. I wanted to hate your husband for leaving you and Noah as much as I hated my father for leaving my mum and me. I needed to confront my anger, so I went to my father’s grave.”

  Glancing over at Noah sleeping restfully in my bed, I utter softly, “No wonder you have a strong bond with Noah. You can relate to what he has already experienced.”

  “That isn’t the only reason I have a bond with him. The moment I saw him come into this crazy world and our eyes met, something within me turned on, like a light in a dark room. For the first time I saw what I wanted… clearly.”

  Walking over to the bed I sit next to him, lovingly stroking the side of his face with the tips of my fingers, “I am sorry, Callum. I had no idea you liked me, let alone wanted me. I should have told you, but the truth is I didn’t want to accept it. After Andrew died I couldn’t… no, I didn’t want to face reality. If I had told you everything in the beginning then I would have had to confront the reality of my life. I wasn’t willing to let go…until I thought I might lose you.”

  Callum turns towards me, grabs my hand and gently kisses the back of it. His warm, soft lips linger on the back of my hand while his thumb amorously strokes my fingers. He slowly gazes up at me while his mouth remains on my hand. His eyes bore deep into mine, like a torch melting into my core, “I wanted you the first time I saw you. But the night you challenged me, in the pub, something ignited within me. My heart seemed to awaken from a long, emotionless sleep – feeling something real for the first time.”

  Pulling me into him he lies down on the bed, next to Noah. Pressing my back firmly against him, he wraps his arm around me, enveloping me with his body. He holds me tightly, kissing the top of my head as he utters softly against my hair, “I am knackered. May I sleep with you tonight instead of sleeping in the hall?”

  Grabbing onto his hand I pull it into me, holding him tightly against me. “Don’t leave,” I utter softly.

  A warm, calming heat radiates off of him, soothing us into a slow lull. “Breanna, you are not going to lose me,” he weakly whispers, causing his words to roll down my skin as it prickles it with an unexplained doubt. We slowly fall asleep, melting into each other, free of our own pride and assumptions.

  Tell Me

  The early morning sunlight streams through the large windows, setting the room ablaze. A heavy weight of relaxation swirls through me. I haven’t slept this soundly in a long time. Soft, dusty sun rays cascade into the room like spotlights illuminating different areas of the room. A ray dances delicately on the bed, causing my skin to glisten. Looking at the shimmering light bouncing across my hand I catch sight of another strong hand wrapped around me. My heart skips slightly as I look down at this strong, yet gentle hand enveloping me. Instantly my mind is brought back to Andrew. This is how he would always sleep, as if he were afraid I was going to suddenly disappear in the night. Closing my eyes tightly I can almost feel Andrew’s heat radiating through me. If I am having a dream right now, please don’t let me ever wake up. The warmth and solidity pressing around me almost feels real. Closing my eyes I begin to tenderly stroke the hand of my illusion. His skin feels so real against my touch. Perhaps I had dreamt the whole thing and Andrew never left. A sudden ping rips through my heart with a troubling thought, as if there is now something just as important to me as Andrew. And if Andrew were still alive this person could never be in my life. My heart now seems to call out to the one person who appears to fit perfectly within the void Andrew left, Callum. Instantly a realization comes over me. It is okay for me to love again. I could not love them both if Andrew was still alive, but I can love them both now. Callum doesn’t take Andrew’s love away, he reminds me of what I had and what I have the right to still embrace. Andrew will always be with me in the tender eyes of his child and in the loving memories I have and will also still go through. Just like a mother fears when she is pregnant with her second child if she will be able to love it as much as her first. But as soon as her baby is born the same love is there. Her heart just gro
ws and embraces them both the same. I can love them the same without hurting the memory of one or the future of the other.

  Realization comes tearing through my dream state, as I now see that it is Callum who is in fact embracing me. Grabbing on to his hand I pull it against my chest, holding him as close to my heart as I can.

  Callum’s enveloping hand squeezes me gently as he kisses the back of my head, “Morning.”

  Callum must have never let go of me the whole night. We lay perfectly positioned, neither one of us willing to move. I now hold onto him for the same reason Andrew would hold onto me, for fear that he will vanish. Andrew left, unwillingly, and I don’t want Callum to leave now. Turning towards Callum I look into his soft eyes, “Morning.”

  His eyes wash over my tattered body, cleansing me to the very core. We just look at each other for what feels like hours. He lovingly strokes the back of my hair, grabbing a small strand and gently twirling it around his finger. A heavy sigh pushes through him as the heat of his body increases. Looking deep into my eyes he asks suddenly, “Will you tell me about Andrew?”

  Completely taken off guard by his question, I gulp audibly. I had been just thinking about Andrew and now Callum asks me this question, “Why?”

  “Breanna, he is a part of you and the father of Noah. His memory should never vanish just because I am here.” My eyes widen in true amazement as a rush of emotions pour through me, slowly flooding my core. A slight smile spreads across Callum as he adds, “I just figured this is possibly the first time you have woken up with a man in your bed since your husband passed away.”

  Giving a slight sarcastic smile I utter, “No, there is a boy in my bed almost every night.” He is slightly taken aback by my response. My smile widens in satisfaction as I tilt my head towards Noah, lying next to me.

  Squeezing me tightly against him, he begins tickling me, “That doesn’t count. Noah is not a man yet. And, he better not be still sleeping in your bed when he is a man.” I begin screaming slightly as he continues to tickle me.

  His fingertips dig softly into the sides of my stomach as I attempt to pull his hands off of me. Trying to wiggle myself free I begin twisting and turning while my laughter makes it hard to breathe. Immediately he rolls on top of me, pinning my hands above me. His weight presses down on me, allowing me to feel the quick rise and fall of his abdomen while he breathes heavily. His eyes gaze into mine with a searing fire. Slowly my laughter subsides as I return his passionate gaze. His mouth suddenly is on mine with a sense of need and want vibrating within his lips. His hands grip tightly onto mine, pressing them firmly into the pillow. I respond to his need with a want of my own. Tenderly biting his lower lip I wiggle my legs free, causing his hips to fall between mine. A sense of urgency rips through us as he releases my hands and begins pulling my shirt up. I react in the same intensity lifting his up, revealing his smooth, firm skin. As the hunger tears through us, a sudden scream belts out of Noah, shattering the heated moment.

  A discontented sigh exhales out of us as Callum’s head falls to the side of me. An unsatisfied laugh rolls through his mouth, “Blimey, if this keeps up I am going to explode.” Kissing my overheated forehead, he dejectedly rolls off of me.

  Picking Noah up I tenderly hold him in my arms, “I can’t believe he lasted this long. He usually is wide awake and has eaten by now. This is the longest he has slept.” Turning towards Callum I add, “Perhaps he likes you being here also.”

  He leans over and tenderly kisses the top of Noah’s head, “Got a bung for you, Noah. Give me some needed alone time with your mum so we won’t burst, and I will keep sleeping by you.”

  I look over at Callum with a questionable gaze, “Don’t you think I have a say in this bribery you are placing on a baby?” I state sarcastically.

  “No. This is between Noah and me.” He kisses me ardently. “Maybe you can now tell me about Andrew while Noah eats.” Staring into Callum’s eyes, my heart melts with gratitude for wanting to know about Andrew and not wanting him to stay buried in my mind.

  Slowly I lift my shirt, exposing one of my breasts for Noah, “Bloody hell! Maybe I should turn around while you feed him,” his voice seems strained.

  “Why? You know this is how Noah eats. You’ve seen him eat before… haven’t you?” Slightly covering my chest, as Noah latches on to eat.

  “No, and after having to stop myself so many times, I am liable to get a stonker just watching this.”

  A hearty laugh rolls out of my mouth uncontrollably, slightly interrupting Noah’s feeding. The laughter is beginning to hurt my stomach as I try to contain myself.

  “It is not funny. You have no idea how hard this is for me right now. I am so close to just taking you right here and now,” he states in a flat, buttery tone.

  I continue laughing as I add, “Well, if you thought he screamed before, that is nothing compared to what will happen if you take him away from his food.” The pain from my laughter is now moving into my side.

  “Well, I guess that is another thing we have in common, because I am screaming inside right now too,” his frustration turns to laughter now, causing Noah to pull away and give me an almost stern expression of aggravation.

  Grabbing hold of the blanket I throw it over my shoulder, giving a protective visual barrier for Callum. “Is that better?” I smile at him ruefully.

  “I suppose. Why don’t you just tell me about Andrew and perhaps that will take this pressure away.”

  My laughter immediately stops. Just the thought of retelling mine and Andrew’s story sobers the room. I take in a deep breath as I gaze intently down at the tweed blanket. Grasping for strength, I realize I need to just tell him everything. Exhaling sharply I begin, “I met Andrew when I was just thirteen years old. He lived next door to me. I did not have a Norman Rockwell picture perfect life; in fact, I couldn’t have been further away from that kind of life. My mom could never stay in the same place for too long. She usually irritated the landlords, neighbors, and just about anyone who knew her; except for the bar owners, they loved her. When my mom would go on one of her drunken binges I would hide out at Andrew’s house. He was an only child and I think his mother always wanted a girl, so she would let me stay as long as I would like. I know on several occasions his mom wanted to call child protective services when my mom was passed out in the front yard, but she didn’t want me in the foster-care system at my age. As long as I was at their home I was safe. Andrew and I became best friends, always hanging around each other, even pretending, on occasion, that we were married. We even had the names of our children picked out.”

  “Let me guess, the boy’s name was Noah,” Callum interrupts.

  I smile briefly, “Yes, a new beginning, he would always say. I had to keep that name.” Looking down at Noah I continue, adding, “For months I never left their home. My mom was too busy drinking to realize I wasn’t there, until one day she was once again evicted. She came over to Andrew’s family’s house and dragged me out, kicking and screaming. Andrew’s mom tried to convince her to let me stay, but my mom wouldn’t even listen. Alcohol ruled her decisions. Occasionally my mom would use me to get free drinks because they thought I was a pretty girl. She would attempt to trade favors from me for a stiff drink. I had to learn to defend myself from unsolicited male advances at a very young age.”

  Callum’s eyes shutter with pain as he pulls me against his chest in a protective manner, “Bloody blow me over, no wonder you have a severe hatred towards alcohol. I am sorry for my actions the other night. I had no right to drink in front of you, bringing back your bad memories. I was just confused and turned to something I shouldn’t have.”

  Resting my head against his chest I continue, “It turns people into something they are not. When my mom was sober, she was a different person. As a child I would just hold onto the hope that she would stay sober, but those days were few and far between. Though we moved away from Andrew I knew where he lived. So when my mom would disappear, I would too. I would run
to Andrew’s house and stay with them until my mom would come and forcefully take me again. As I got older I left home and stayed with his family for good. Basically I was a runaway whose mother couldn’t remember her last drink, let alone that she had a daughter. Her memory is so screwed up from the poison she is constantly consuming that she only can remember me on occasions of slight sobriety. I mourned the loss of my mother the day I left home.

  “Andrew was my savior, rescuing me from a fate worse than death. He was the stability I knew. He wanted me to continue my education. I was accepted to Cambridge University the middle of my senior year and we had a plan to go as soon as we graduated. But his world soon turned tragic when his mother died of a heart attack. His father was so devastated that he turned to alcohol to numb his pain. We couldn’t be there anymore. We both had just turned eighteen so decided to make it official and legal. The next day I went to the court house and married the boy I loved since I was thirteen.” A thick pause pushes down on me as my tone of voice changes, “A few months later I received a call no wife ever wants to receive. Andrew and his father were killed in a single automobile crash. Their car took a turn going too fast, losing control and flipping over several times. His father was thrown from the car, but Andrew had been pinned inside. I rushed to the hospital where I got to see his battered body and hold his hand, but he never gained consciousness. I had to silently say good-bye. He died that night in the hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Callum’s voice is so quiet it is almost a whisper.

  A burning pain dances on the edges of my voice, “The worst part is that Andrew’s father was the driver. The police performed a toxicology test and when it came in it showed that his father was more than double the legal alcohol level – Andrew had zero alcohol in his system.” Anger and confusion washes over me as I utter heatedly, “Why would he have allowed his father to drive? That is a question I will keep asking myself and will never receive an answer to.”