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

  “Xavier Williams.” He beams at me and looks around, the stench of stale cigar smoke wafting over me. “What’s it been, twenty years?”

  “About that.” I take a step back and gesture to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Sure, why not?” Darren follows me over to the bar and watches as I pour out two shots of whiskey. “It’s evening somewhere, right? So, you own this place?”

  “As of about two weeks ago,” I confirm with a nod. “I needed a distraction, and this place is proving to be exactly that.”

  “A distraction.” Darren sips his whiskey. “Dare I ask what from?”

  “Probably best you don’t,” I say, not really wanting to get into all the shit with Maria right now. “I called you for a reason. I’m looking at turning this place back into a live music venue. Any hot new bands you could hook me up with?”

  “I might have one or two in mind.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a CD, tossing it on the counter. “Take a listen to these guys.”

  “What, you just carry CDs around randomly in your pocket?” I grin.

  He lets out a low chuckle. “I had an inkling you might’ve been looking for a band when you mentioned this place.”

  I slot the disc into the player and press Start, then I pick up the cover and study it, my chest aching. The four young men staring back at me remind me so much of myself, twenty years ago. Young, determined, the world at their feet. And the music is good—these guys have real potential.

  Just like I did.

  I rub the back of my neck, the realisation hitting me out of nowhere how much I miss that stage of my life. Back then, it was all about creativity, dreaming big and then making things happen. I look around the bar, nausea rising in my stomach. I fucking love this place and I have no regrets buying it, but it’s never going to fill the hole music has left in me.

  “They’re good.” I force the words out.

  He nods and downs the rest of his whiskey. I throw back mine, too.

  “I know. They’re almost as good as you were.” The song finishes and Darren glances towards the stage. “Are you playing again?”

  I laugh. “No. I’m just happy being in the background.”

  “Pity,” Darren mutters with a shake of his head. “You were good enough to do big things. Probably still are.”

  That statement brings a mixture of feelings. Flattery, because it’s always nice to know I was good, and regret, because I really was that good. I still remember my first few shows, the ones that gave me a taste of what I could achieve if I had just kept on pushing. The band was fire—we wrote our own songs and jammed together for hours until the tunes fell in place and the songs came to life. The other guys had fun, but they weren’t committed to music like I was. Even Aaron was just doing it as a hobby, something to fill in the time. Not me, though. Music was everything. I poured my heart into it and when I stood on stage, my words took on a life of their own. It was crazy to think that the lyrics I wrote could have such a profound effect on another person, inducing all kinds of emotions.

  “So, what do you say?”

  I snap my attention back to Darren and give him a wide smile.

  “I say we have a deal,” I say.

  “Great.” He grins. “I’ll have my assistant drop off some paperwork and then we’ll be all set. You know,” he adds as I walk him to the door, “it’s never too late. Music is obviously still your passion—”

  “Thanks, but I don’t even play anymore. I haven’t picked up a guitar in years, and singing?” I laugh. “My voice wouldn’t even know what to do anymore.”

  “See, I thought it was like riding a bike,” Darren teases.

  “You haven’t seen me on a bike.” I joke.

  Shutting the door, I wander over to the stage and step up, anxiety twisting through my stomach like a knife. There was once a time when the stage was my happy place, where the light on my face, the music in my ears, my clothes drenched with sweat, and the sound of cheers and screaming women were as harmonic as the music that flowed through the speakers. My life has changed a lot since then. I would give anything to be able to go back to that place, but it’s not as simple as picking up my guitar and singing again. That guy is long gone, a distant memory. He’s someone I’m not sure I’ll ever meet again.

  My phone pings with an email notification. I smile as I read it. At any moment, Maria is going to be served with divorce papers, and honestly, the thought of her angrily reading through it and ranting to herself in our big, empty house feels like a bigger high than any performance could ever give me.

  No sooner do I slide my phone into my pocket, it starts to ring. Fuck. I expected her to react, but not this quickly. I relax when I see it’s only Aaron, but then I remember Sofie. I’d almost rather face Maria right now. At least I’m getting some joy out of screwing her over.

  “Aaron,” I say, doing my best to sound happy to hear from him. “How’re things?”

  “Good. You sound cheerful,” he observes.

  I wince. Maybe I should tone it down a notch.

  “Things are looking up, I guess,” I say. “I just had a meeting with Darren Sanders.”

  “No way—our old manager?” Aaron laughs. “How is he?”

  “He’s good. I’m using one of his bands for my opening show. Too bad you won’t be here to see it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he admits. He sounds distant. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad this bar is turning out to be a good thing for you. I have to admit, I had my reservations.”

  “No kidding. I couldn’t tell.” I chuckle.

  He laughs. “It’s good to hear things are getting better for you.” He pauses. “Have you spoken with Maria?”

  “As little as I can.” It’s amazing how switching the topic over to her can suck all the fun out of a conversation. “I’ve started divorce proceedings,” I add.

  “Are you sure you want to rush into that?” Aaron asks.

  “Trust me, man. It’s been a long time coming. Her cheating pushed us over the edge, but we’ve been over for a long time.”

  “Okay, just make sure you think things through. How’s Sofie?” he asks.

  “She’s good. Usual teenage drama,” I say with an uneasy laugh. I leave out the fact that I’m the cause of said drama. “She’s mostly studying. Keeping out of trouble.”

  “Good. I know she’s a good girl, but I worry about her sometimes. It’s hard for me to think of her as an adult. I guess she’ll always be that little girl with tears streaming down her cheeks because she scraped her knee.”

  Fuck, now he’s really making me feel like shit.

  “Speaking of, I gotta go—giving her a driving lesson,” I mutter.

  Aaron chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, but he’s already hung up.

  Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  Chapter 10

  Xavier

  Sofie is waiting for me when I pull up in front of her house.

  I get out and walk around the car, taking in her lilac T-shirt and tight jeans, which cling to her body and ass like a glove. Compared to recent days, she’s dressed conservatively, but casual looks sexy on her. To be honest, I’m just relieved she didn’t strut out wearing a bikini to try and get my attention.

  Maybe she’s finally gotten the message.

  “You’re late,” she murmurs, more subdued than she usually is.

  “Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “Traffic was bad. Let’s get going.”

  Sofie hesitates for a moment before she gets in. She adjusts the seat and mirrors, and everything else she can think of doing to avoid starting the car. It’s like she’s scared of it or something.

  “You tell it what to do,” I say, fastening my seatbelt. “It’s just a machine.”

  “I know that,” she says, an edge to her voice.

  She squeezes the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles go white. I have to admit, it’s kind of refreshing seeing her so nervou
s, since she’s always so fearless and sure of herself.

  “Zave?” She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re staring at me.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about how impressed I am that you’re learning manual,” I murmur. “I figured most kids these days take the easy way out and learn auto.” I say it knowing she’ll get a little rise out of being called a kid, and sure enough, her eyes narrow, but then she relaxes.

  “You know me, I like a challenge,” she says with a shrug. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a lesson,” she adds, staring at all the different gauges, apprehension in her eyes. “Dad was teaching me, but then he got too busy with work and I never got around to arranging lessons through a professional.”

  “It’s easy, once you get the hang of it,” I assure her. “The hardest part is finding that sweet spot between putting your foot on the accelerator and releasing the clutch.”

  Sure, she knows the basics, but that doesn’t mean she has the coordination to make them happen at the same time. And where she’s always elegant and graceful on her feet, she seems clumsy and uncomfortable in the car. We jerk forward, and she curses under her breath when she slams on the brakes. Only the seatbelts hold us back from leaving the car through the windscreen.

  “Sorry,” she mutters, and changes gear with a sickening metallic scrape.

  When a car comes up behind us, her eyes widen, darting back and forth between the mirror and the windscreen. Beads of sweat appear on her forehead, her usual tanned skin pale.

  “Focus on the road in front of you. The guy behind you will keep his distance.”

  “Okay,” she says, but she keeps looking back, anyway.

  I relax when the car takes off smoothly, and she gains some confidence, but it’s short-lived when a red light stops us. Her confidence waivers as we sit there, waiting. When the light goes green, she releases the clutch too fast, sending us jerking forward. Drivers behind us angrily honk their horns as she tries again. By the third attempt, even I’m growing impatient.

  The driver behind us loses his temper, and with squealing tires speeds around us, shaking a fist out of the window. I fight the urge to flip him the bird. I’m not going to get Sofie worked up into a road rage on top of her nervousness.

  “You’re letting the pressure off it too quickly,” I tell her. “Press down harder on the accelerator and then release.” With her jaw clenched, she flashes me a look and then tries again, jolting us forward about an inch.

  I press my lips together when the lights change to red again. The last thing I want to be is a backseat driver, but her lack of confidence is making me nervous. I’m not a good passenger at the best of times, but in most cases, like when I’m in a taxi, I can switch off. Teaching someone to drive is new territory for me, and in hindsight? This was a fucking bad idea.

  “Just relax,” I say, even though I feel anything but relaxed. “Forget the cars behind you and just focus on getting that balance.” I look up as the light turns green again. “Okay, now press down on the accelerator, good, now release a little bit of pressure on the clutch. That’s it,” I encourage when we slowly begin to move.

  She glances at me, the wide smile on her lips making my skin tingle. Fuck, she’s cute when she’s happy. Tension builds inside me and I snap my attention off Sofie and back onto the road. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all.

  The lanes go from one to two and I’m relieved the other cars now have space to pass us, but Sofie hogs both lanes, straddling the white line.

  “Move over,” I say.

  She yanks the car over.

  “Indicator,” I remind her.

  “I did,” she growls.

  “Put it on sooner,” I say. “And don’t talk back to me.”

  She mutters something under her breath, her hands gripping hold of the wheel so tightly her knuckles are white. Tiny droplets of rain splash onto the windscreen. I gaze up at the grey, stormy sky and sigh. Great. Just what we need.

  “Left, here,” I say.

  She manages to indicate and turn without killing us, and I almost breathe a sigh of relief—until it hits me. We’re on the freeway just out of the city; the same stretch of road where the accident happened.

  I clench down on my jaw, trying to block the memories out, because now is not the time or place to have a mini-breakdown. It’s almost peak hour, so the traffic is bad. The rain is falling harder now, making it difficult to see. Trucks hurl past us in a hurry, rushing to get where they’re going.

  “Just keep focusing on the road,” I say. I glance at Sofie, her cheeks white, her eyes wide. She’s getting flustered. She speeds up, trying to keep up with the other cars.

  “Slow down,” I say through my teeth.

  “I can’t.” She panics.

  A truck in front of us breaks suddenly and Sofie freaks out. She slams on the brakes and we skid to a stop, just in time. My heart thumps in my throat as I glare at her.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Sofie. Pay attention!”

  “Get off my case, okay? You’re teaching me for a reason.”

  “You could have killed us.”

  “Did we die?” she challenges me.

  I swallow my rage because even though it’s a damn close call, nothing terrible happened. We’re okay. But it doesn’t always end that way.

  It’s the middle of the night. Outkast is playing on the radio and Dylan fiddles with the volume, pumping it louder and louder and singing off-key. He’s sitting next to me while Maria sleeps off a headache in the back.

  “Turn that down,” I snap at Dylan.

  I can’t focus on the road when he’s hey-ya-ing in my ears, especially nearing the end of an eight-hour drive. We’re so close to home and all I want to do is crawl into bed and go to sleep. I glance at Dylan. He either didn’t hear me, or he’s ignoring me, so I reach for the volume to turn it down myself.

  “Dad!” Dylan shouts.

  Bright lights blind me from the passenger side window and then the sickening crunch of metal on metal, followed by Dylan’s screams, rip through me.

  Then everything goes black—

  Gulping down some air, my heart pounds as I look around. I was dreaming. I’m with Sofie, in my car, which is pulled off the freeway in the emergency lane. Sofie stares at me, her eyes wide with panic.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, her eyebrows creasing. “I was saying your name, but it’s like you’d zoned out.”

  “Drive,” I say in a hoarse voice. “The sooner we get out of this traffic, the better.”

  She crawls into the traffic again, even though I can see she’s done. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. Yeah, well, newsflash—neither do I.

  “Keep in your lane,” I bellow at her, my heart thumping in my chest.

  “I am.”

  “Sofie, eyes on the road,” I rasp, glaring at her.

  “Quit yelling at me!”

  She shoots me a frazzled look and lifts a hand off the wheel to touch her face. Something inside me snaps and I lunge for the wheel to keep it steady, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “Hey,” she cries, her hands fumbling to take back control of the wheel.

  She takes the next exit off the freeway and pulls onto a side road, slamming on the brakes.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, confused as she shuts off the engine.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m not doing—driving another second with you.” She glares at me, anger flashing in her eyes.

  “Are you kidding me?” I laugh, which earns me a death stare.

  “Do I look like I’m kidding? You’re worse than my father,” she growls at me. “You think screaming at me helps my confidence? News flash—it doesn’t.”

  “You nearly ran us into the back of a truck,” I protest with a laugh.

  “I panicked,” she cries. “You freaked out, and that made me freak out. Fucking hell, I need some air.”

  Sofie opens the car door and climbs out. The
rain has slowed to a soft shower, so I get out too and walk over to her. I put my arm around her and pull her in for a hug. She resists at first, then she melts into my embrace.

  God, she’s shaking.

  “I’m sorry if I was too hard on you,” I murmur, realising she’s right. If anyone nearly caused an accident right then, it was me.

  “Hard on me?” She laughs. “Worst teacher in the world.”

  “I’m not a good passenger,” I agree, swallowing hard. “The night Dylan died… it was just back there. We hit a truck. I hit a truck. It had veered into my lane, but I was too distracted with changing the radio station…” I swallow, the pain still raw. “I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

  “Oh, Zave…” She sinks down on the ground and I sit down next to her. “I had no idea. I mean, I knew, but…” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her wide eyes glassy. “I should’ve paid more attention to where we were.”

  “It’s okay,” I mutter. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been down this road. Sometimes it’s unavoidable and usually, I’m okay with it. I’m not sure why I freaked out. Maybe because…” I pause, stopping short of calling her a bad driver. She lifts her eyebrows, a tiny smile on her lips.

  “Because you felt like you were in another life and death situation?” she finishes.

  I chuckle and wipe away her tears.

  “You’re not that bad. You just need confidence. Trust your instinct.”

  “Yeah, well, the last time I did that it didn’t turn out so well.”

  Fuck.

  I bow my head, not sure what to say to that. I could tell her that her instinct was right, that I do like her, that it’s taking everything I have not to act on what I’m feeling for her, but I don’t, because that would be inappropriate.

  “Do you still think about him?” she asks.

  I lift my gaze. “Dylan?” I ask and she nods. “Every single day.”

  “Me too,” she murmurs. “Does being around me remind you of him?”