Between Never and Forever by Brit Benson

27

After finding her with Savannah,I brought Brynn straight to the office to hang out with Sharon.

The urge to interrogate Brynn about what she’d said to Savannah and what they talked about was too strong. If I’d been my mother, I’d have punished her with some archaic and cruel practice sure to leave lasting scars. I’m not my mother. I’ve sworn to never be my mother. But fuck if I’m not totally lost in this parenting thing sometimes.

Sometimes the only guidelines I have are how not to be. My mom and dad set great examples for that. Julianna’s parents were worse, so together, Jules and I were often just fumbling messes, trying to navigate raising a kid while also dealing with the shadow of Jules’s disease. It’s been anything but normal, and Sharon tells me all the time that I’m doing the best I can. That should be enough, but sometimes...it’s just not.

Sharon tells me that she and Brynn are going to attend the church fish fry tonight, which I totally forgot about.

I have to remind myself regularly that the church Sharon attends now is not the same corrupt organization that my father led. They’re more accepting. They don’t condone child abuse. They don’t send “troubled young girls” to live in dangerous fake foster homes simply to get them out of the way. So, I promise them both that I will make an appearance at the fish fry, and then I make myself scarce.

I drive to the River View neighborhood to check on the rebuilds. We’ve run into a snag with the plumbing in one of our last houses, so I send a text to Sharon that she’ll have to reach out to our private donor. We deal directly with the estate lawyer and accountant, and so far, they haven’t turned us down once.

I go through the same routine for the next few days. Office, work inspections, office, sleep. But by Friday, my luck has run out.

When I get back to my house, the sun is setting, but the film crew is still hard at work. I sneak through the front door and into the part of my house that’s been partitioned off before stepping out onto the deck.

There are dark clouds and flashes of lightning on the horizon, giving the water a rough, dangerous aura. From the way the crew is scrambling, they’re rushing to get the last scene shot before they get rained out.

I can just make out Savannah down on the beach, the perfect silhouette of her body displayed starkly against the water, as if summoning the impending storm. I can’t hear her lines, if there are any at all, but I stand on the deck and watch until someone shouts CUT over a loudspeaker. When the crew starts packing up and everyone begins to disperse, I should turn around and head inside. I should continue to avoid her like I have all day.

I don’t.

I watch as her silhouette grows larger, until I can just make out the skimpy black bikini they have her in, showing off her sleeve of fake tattoos. I wonder if they’ve left the real tattoo on her back for the movie, or if they’ve covered it up with makeup.

I stare at her, willing her to turn around so I can see for myself. To assuage my curiosity and feed my craving. Instead, as if she can feel my gaze, she looks up and her eyes meet mine. She stops walking and stares up at me, face blank. I stare back. When she nods discreetly toward the side of my house, I don’t question it. I just turn and walk down the deck stairs, meeting her in a matter of seconds. I know what’s coming, and something inside me has been longing for this conversation for years.

When Savannah opens her mouth, her question shoots out quickly, like it’s been sitting on the tip of her tongue for hours, fighting to get past her teeth, and she’s finally released it.

“Did you marry her because she got sick?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want Brynn to be alone,” I say honestly. “I didn’t want Julianna to have to go through it by herself—raising a toddler while trying to go through treatments for cancer. She didn’t deserve that. Brynn didn’t.”

“How old was Brynn when Julianna got sick?”

“Two the first time. Four the second.”

She runs her eyes over my face, and when she speaks next, the question is softer. More tentative, like she’s afraid of the answer.

“Did you love her?”

Savannah doesn’t specify, but she doesn’t have to. I know she’s talking about Julianna. I shake my head once and answer without hesitation.

“Not like that.”

I don’t finish. I don’t say what I want to. I didn’t love her like I loved you.

“Why still wear the ring, then?”

I shrug.

“Keeps the Larks happy thinking I’m still mourning their daughter. Keeps people from trying to set me up.”

And it keeps women from thinking I’ll ever let them become more. Because the only woman I’ve ever wanted more with is standing right in front of me.

I keep my mouth shut, and the silence between us stretches.

I wait for her to say something, anything, but she doesn’t. She just stares blankly and keeps her mouth shut for what feels like years. The more breaths I take in the quiet, the more tense my shoulders grow. The angrier I become.

I don’t know what I want from her in this moment. An apology? A confession? Would anything even be good enough? I just want more than she’s giving me. I want more than I’ve gotten over the last eight years. I want more than what I was left with in that small house in Miami when I was eighteen. A giant decision with no right answer, and the only person I’d ever loved walking away from me for the second time.

When Savannah finally speaks, I’m a lit fuse attached to almost a decade’s worth of dynamite.

“Why didn’t you contact me? I could have helped.”

“And interrupt your glamorous rockstar lifestyle? It was too much for you when it was just a baby to deal with, remember? No way in hell you’d be willing to accept a baby and cancer.”

She grits her teeth, and her nostrils flare.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

I scoff.

“What’s not fair is you pushing me away when I was begging you not to. What’s not fair is you hearing me say I loved you and then kicking me out of your house. I wanted you, Savannah. I wanted you, but you didn’t want me enough to put up with everything that came with me.”

My voice shakes more and more with each word, and it’s difficult to keep from shouting. I’d have taken her with everything. With all of it. Even if she was still a stripper in Miami—if that was all she’d ever be—I’d still have wanted her to be mine. If she’d never left her mother’s house. If she’d stayed in our small town, I’d have run away with her after graduation. I’d have kept her safe.

None of it would have happened at all if she’d have just stayed.

I did want her to be mine. She just didn’t want me.

“I did what I had to do for the both of us,” she spits out. “I didn’t have a choice. You were having a baby. There wasn’t going to be any room for me in your life—”

“That’s bullshit. You didn’t have room for me in your life. In your exciting new life. In your big, bright career plans. You didn’t want to deal with me and my complicated future while you were on tour building yours. That wasn’t for both of us. That was for you. You couldn’t even—"

“I couldn’t save you, Levi!”

She shouts the words, then immediately closes the distance between us while lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. I can feel her breath slam into my chest, words hitting like silent bullets, punctuated by a deluge of angry tears.

“Don’t you get it? I couldn’t save you. I was too busy trying to save myself. And yeah, I know that’s selfish. But do you know how hard it was to go from not caring if I lived or died to actually trying to be something? To try and make myself into someone I didn’t hate when I looked in the mirror? And then—”

Savannah chokes back a sob, swiping roughly at her tears, then reaching up and tugging on her brown hair. Her eyelids flutter, then clamp shut as she shakes her head.

“Jesus, Levi, I was in love with you. I loved you more than anything. More than everything. Do you know how much it would have hurt to watch you put them first? Do you know how hard it would have been for me to eventually, inevitably, be pushed out of your perfect life with your perfect new wife and perfect baby? It would have killed me, Levi. It would have fucking killed me. For eighteen fucking years, I’d been a punching bag. An afterthought. A burden and a fantasy and nothing important to anyone but you. And that was going to change, and I couldn’t handle it. So, I’m sorry you had to deal with the consequences of your actions at eighteen. I’m sorry you think I failed you, that I was a bad friend, but I’m not sorry I saved myself. And if you’ve hated me for the last eight years because of it, well then—”

“I had to,” I force out, and she startles.

For seconds, we stare at each other in silence. Just the sound of the wind, and the storm in the distance, and our rapid breathing fill the air around us.

When she finally speaks, it’s a jagged, terrified whisper.

“What does that mean?”

“I had to hate you, Savannah.”

I hold her gaze. Her eyes are filled to the brim and overflowing with tears, and in the darkening twilight, not even the moon can compete with her shimmering irises.

A hurricane. A tempest. A violent force of nature.

The only kind I’ve ever looked forward to.

“I had to hate you, or I would resent them. I would resent them for making me lose you, for taking away the only thing I ever so desperately wanted, and they didn’t deserve that. Neither of them did, but especially not Brynn. For their sake, for mine, I had to hate you. I’ve thought of you every single day. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I tried not to. You’re in my dreams. You’re in my head and my chest and my fucking blood, Savannah. I had to hate you, or I wouldn’t have been able to move forward. Not even a little. Not at all.”

Our chests are heaving, our panted breaths mingle in the space between our bodies. The breeze kicks up, tousling the strands of her brown hair and giving her that fierce look I remember from when we were younger.

Swirling, slate gray eyes. Wild, untamed hair.

Savannah Shaw has always been my perfect storm.

As if on cue, the rain starts.

Soft sprinkles wet our bodies, reminding me that Savannah is in a swimsuit that leaves nothing to the imagination, before the sky opens up and blankets us in a downpour. I grab her arm and pull her under the shelter of the deck. The rain hits the wood slats above us and the stone pavers under our feet so loudly that I can no longer hear her breathing. Only the harsh, pounding rain, and my racing heart.

I glance toward the water, but the rain is falling in such thick sheets that I can barely make out where the grass of my backyard meets the beachy shoreline. When I bring my eyes back to Savannah, she shivers, rain dropping from her eyelashes and onto her cheeks. To her lips. I watch as a raindrop slides to her plush lower lip and rests there, sparkling. Taunting. Teasing.

I can’t want her again. I can’t awaken that desire. I can’t unlock that fucking box inside my heart. I know all of this. I know how badly it will hurt when it ends, but like a man possessed, I don’t think of any of it.

Without taking my eyes off that raindrop, I open my mouth and rasp the only words my brain can form.

“Savannah, can I kiss you?”

Her lips part on a gasp. The raindrop trembles.

“Yes,” she whispers, and my mouth is on hers before the raindrop falls.

The moment we touch, my body sags with relief, eight years of tension burned away in the heat from this kiss. I groan and wrap my hand around her neck, holding her to me, keeping her close so I can taste her thoroughly. She whimpers into my mouth and fists her hands into my shirt, pulling and tugging. I coax her lips with my tongue, and she opens without hesitation.

I will never forget this moment. It will haunt my nightmares for years after.

I walk her backward and press her against the house. I move my mouth from her lips to her ear, then to the soft skin covering her pulse point. I suck, and she whines, pressing her body into me and tilting her head to the side. Giving me access. Granting my wishes.

When my name leaves her lips on a soft whimper, my restraint snaps.

I drag my teeth from her neck to her collarbone, then suck the swell of her breast into my mouth. I bite down, making her cry out, then suck hard enough that I know she’ll need extra time in the makeup chair tomorrow to cover the mark I’ve made.

Her hands move to my hair, digging into my scalp, as I nudge the cup of her bikini aside and suck her nipple into my mouth.

“Levi,” she pants out, moaning my name and tugging me closer with each breath. “Levi. Levi.”

Quickly, I press kisses down the side of her torso, to her stomach, as I drop to my knees and bite at the soft flesh of her hips. I take one hand and wrap it around her bare ankle, then lock eyes with her. Without speaking, I push her foot out, widening her stance so I can move my body between her legs. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth, watching me with hooded, wild, lust-filled eyes, and tilts her pelvis toward me. An unspoken, unmistakable invitation, and I accept.

I cover her pussy with my mouth and her whole body shudders as my hot breath caresses her sensitive skin through the wet fabric of her bikini bottoms.

“Oh fuck,” she whispers. “Oh fuck, Levi.”

I hook my finger in the crotch of her bottoms and pull them to the side, then devour her naked pussy with my eyes. Her pale skin almost glows in the moonlight, shimmering and slick with the rainwater, and directly contrasted by the dark bikini. I blow lightly on her clit, just to watch goosebumps appear on her skin.

“Please, Levi.”

I tear my eyes from her pussy and direct them at her face.

“Please what, Savannah?”

I take my finger and drag it through her, coating my fingertips in her arousal before bringing them to her clit and rubbing it in small circles.

“Yes,” she says on a sigh, and I halt my movements. “No, Levi, don’t stop.”

“Please what, Savannah?”

I repeat the words slower this time, my voice so rough that I barely recognize myself, but it carries despite the sound of the rain pounding all around us. She gasps, staring down at me as her chest rises and falls rapidly with her pants. She tightens her grip in my hair and tilts my head back slightly.

“I want your mouth on me. Please.”

Our eye contact doesn’t break until my mouth covers her pussy and her eyes fall shut with a gasp. I groan the moment her taste hits me, and I lick her once before sucking her clit into my mouth.

She tastes of saltwater and rain and something decidedly her. My tempest. My chaos. I hum against her, flicking my tongue over her clit again before starting all over and licking her fully with the flat of my tongue.

“Yes. Yes, Levi.”

She whispers into the air, pulsing her hips slightly. When I slip two fingers into her, she groans and tightens around me. My dick is straining hard against my jeans, pressing into my zipper in a way that’s almost painful. I want to reach down and squeeze it, stroke it to relieve some of the ache, but I can’t take my hands off Savannah. I rove one up and down her body, gripping her hip and pulling her hard against me, as the other makes slow, rhythmic thrusts in and out of her pussy.

I flick and suck her clit, grazing my teeth as my fingers work her from the inside. I slide my free hand up her body and palm her breast, massaging and then pinching her nipple. Three separate sensations, three separate motions, and if I could, I would give her more. I’d give her everything.

She whimpers louder and brings her eyes to mine. I feel her start to pulse around me. Her body starts to quiver. I bring my thumb to her clit and rub quickly and watch in awe as her mouth drops open with a gasped moan.

“That’s it,” I croon over her pussy between swipes of my tongue, never stopping the thrusting of my fingers. I hold her eyes as I speak, as I work her with my hands and mouth. “That’s it, Sav. Give it to me. Give me your orgasm. This one is mine.”

I pick up speed, thrusting and rubbing with more vigor.

“Give it to me,” I say again, my voice a growl. “Give me what’s mine.”

She comes with a shaky, breathless cry, pulsing around my fingers and soaking my hand in her cum. Then she stills, breathing heavily, with her head dropped back on the wall of the house.

I pull my fingers out of her, adjust her bottoms so she’s covered, then stand to face her.

When her eyes meet mine, I don’t hide my smirk.

“What?” she asks breathlessly. “What?”

I raise an eyebrow, dragging my gaze down her body to her pussy and back, and then shrug.

“That might be the first time I’ve seen you do what you’re told.”

Her eyes flare and her jaw drops, and I watch as she tries to fight the upward turn of her lips. She loses the battle with her smile, but I can tell from the mischief in her eyes that she’s already formed another plan to regain the upper hand.

She reaches for me and hooks her fingers into the band of my jeans, then tugs me forward roughly. Our lips collide, tongues tangling instantly, until she’s moaning into my mouth and palming my dick through the denim.

“Fuck.” I groan into her mouth as she strokes me, and I thrust into her hand.

My arms bracket the wall on either side of her head, and I pull back slightly to watch her talented fingers pop the button on my jeans, then tug down the zipper. I wait, chest rising and falling with my hard breathing, for her to do more, but she doesn’t.

I bring my eyes up to her face and find her watching me with a smirk. I hiss as she drags her nails over the taut skin of my abdomen, teasing the band of my boxer briefs. She quirks a brow, then dips her fingertips lower until they just tease the base of my dick. I suck in a sharp breath, then meet the challenge in her eyes with one of my own.

“Don’t be shy now, baby. If you want it, take it.”

The way she parts her lips, then sinks her teeth into the plush lower one, fills me with need to take matters into my own hands. To guide her to her knees and push into her throat. To paint those sexy lips with my cum.

I take one hand off the wall and wrap it around the side of her neck, rubbing roughly at her jaw with my thumb before pressing it between her lips and into her mouth. She laves her tongue along the pad of my thumb then grazes it with her teeth, making me groan.

I drop my forehead to hers, and she wraps her delicate hand around my cock and squeezes. I’m fucking throbbing, aching for her. Her hands on my skin. Her mouth.

“Take me out.”

She doesn’t hesitate. She shoves the fabric of my boxer briefs down as she takes my bare cock in her hands. Her hot, soft palms and fingers encase my shaft, tugging in a way that threatens to snap my restraint. My hand moves to the nape of her neck and grips. I’m half a breath away from pushing her to her knees, when a voice cuts in.

“Ms. Loveless. You’re needed at wardrobe and hair.”

I flick my eyes to the intruder and sneer, shielding Savannah’s body with mine. It’s her personal security, and to his credit, his back is to us. Savannah sighs, and I feel her grip loosen.

“Give me five minutes,” she says, and then she releases me, so I do the same.

I step back and give her space, shoving my hard dick back in my pants and doing up my jeans in the process. Her eyes are wild and pleading as they bounce between mine. We’re still panting. We’re still desperate and needy.

I want to tell her to come back. To go and do whatever she needs to do, and then come back to me. To this house that was meant to be hers before it wasn’t. I want to finally know what it’s like to have her inside, to feel her. How it was supposed to be. I want to possess every inch of her in the house I built for her memory. I want to own her.

“I have to go,” she says quietly before I can speak. She gestures to her wet, tangled wig, then to her sleeve of fake tattoos. “They need to take care of all this.”

I want to tell her to come back here to my house, but I don’t. Instead, I jerk out a nod and watch her as she watches me. She scans my face.

“I have to go to L.A. tomorrow.” I raise a brow in question, and she huffs out a small laugh. “There’s an awards show. The band’s nominated, and we’re playing.”

I fold my arms across my chest.

“L.A. with Torren King?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but I fail. I can’t say his name without every syllable dripping with disgust. Savannah rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Levi, with Torren. Torren is in my band so he will also be there.”

I stare at her, and she stares back, her brows slanted harshly over the challenge in her eyes. Torren King. Her bassist, her ex-lover, her supposed fiancé. He’s been with her every day for the last eight years. He might know her better than I ever did now.

That thought, more than any of the others, makes me murderous.

I drop my gaze down her body, taking in every inch of exposed skin in the dim, dark night. The rain still pounds around us, and I can feel her security guard’s presence looming off to the side, but I don’t take my attention off Savannah as I close the distance between us once more.

I lock my eyes with hers, gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tipping her face up to meet mine. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t bat me away. Her nostrils flare on an inhale, but her eyes stay on mine.

Slowly, with my other hand, I cup her pussy. I raise a brow in question, and she tilts her pelvis toward me in invitation. I slip my fingers into the side of her bottoms and swipe them through her pussy, coating my fingers in the cum that I coaxed from her moments earlier. Then, I bring them up and smear her arousal over her lips, pushing into her mouth and making her suck for good measure. I bend down and press my lips to the shell of her ear.

“When you’re with him, remember how hard I made you come tonight. If he dares to try and kiss you, remember that this taste was my doing.”

I drop my hands from her, take a step back, then leave her panting and speechless under my deck.