Keeping Never (2 page)

“
Hey.” I turn around and see Zella standing next to the staircase with Beth. She's grinding her lip between her teeth nervously. I step forward and push the door closed to keep the chill winter wind out. In her eyes, I see my secret burning hot and fierce. She is
this
close to blurting it out for the world to hear.

“
Zella, no,” I say, but she moves forward and hugs me, pulls me against her warm chest, squeezes me like we're as close now as we were when I left, maybe closer. It's a nice feeling, but a hard one to understand. How can she forgive me so easily when I'm barely figuring out how to forgive myself?

“
I'm so happy for you, Never,” she says. “You and Ty will make cute, little babies.” I sigh and push back from her, certain that I don't want to have this conversation right here, right now. My life is structured so that were I to say something back, Ty would walk in at that exact moment and find out in the worst way possible. In fact,
finding out
is not an option. If he
finds out,
and I don't actually
tell
him, then I'm in big time trouble. Ty McCabe will be fucking pissed off. There is no doubt in my mind about that.

“
That's enough, Zella,” I say and my tone, while not harsh, is no-nonsense, kind of like Beth's.
Hell, I'm getting started on my mother voice already. Nice.
“Ty doesn't know.” Zella nods and tosses a casual glance over her shoulder at Beth who looks guilty enough that I don't get mad at her.

“
I had to tell someone,” Beth says, and her facial expression is so tense and distracted that you'd think she was the one who was pregnant. I watch her carefully for a moment. “I was digging out baby clothes from the closet and … ” I nod and wave my hand. I don't need her to explain herself. My family's had enough of that. We need to keep up with this forward momentum of understanding and forgiveness. After all, that's what life is all about. Martin Luther King, Jr. said it best.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

“
It's fine,” I say and then, as I hear footsteps on the deck, I add, “As long as you keep it to yourself.”

“
Ho ho ho,” Ty says as he kicks open the door and steps inside with an armful of colorful gifts. Noah has taken the time to wrap each one in a different patterned paper, and there are bows and ribbons and glitter galore. “It's Santa fucking Claus!”

“
Language,” Beth says quickly, although she won't scold Ty if he does it again. She never scolds Ty. “What is all this?”

“
I'm sorry,” Noah says as he follows in behind Ty and sets down some pink and yellow boxes next to the door. “I got a bit carried away.”

“
Presents!” Lorri shouts as she skids across the wood floor in slipper socks and throws her arms around Noah's legs. “Yay!” Noah laughs and ruffles her hair, and I can't help but think how much easier this would all be if I was in love with Noah. Noah has money, family, connections. Ty has … a hot, fucking body, eyes that burn, and a soul that's blacker than coal but just as warm. I sigh.

“
Go for a smoke with me?” he asks as he passes by and goes into the living room, depositing his load of presents next to the tree. I don't answer him, but I do catch the eyes of both Beth and Zella on my way out. Two pairs of hazel orbs tell me without words,
Don't you dare.
I know without a doubt that there is no way I'm letting my shit fuck up my baby before it's even born.
If it's born.
I shiver and grab my coat, follow Ty out the door and watch as he digs out a box of cigs. He stares at it for a moment and then pulls back his arm and chucks the red and white rectangle out into the snow. Ty's bracelets jingle like bells as he drops his hand back to his side.

“
What the hell?” I ask as I gape at him and he shrugs nonchalantly.

“
Want to quit with me?” he asks and as I stare at him, a wave of nausea takes over me and I suddenly just feel so freaking
tired,
like I could just curl up on the porch swing and fall asleep watching the snow. I put out a hand and touch the side of the house for support. Black and red hair falls over my face, reminding me that I need to make a decision about those copper roots. It's metaphorical somehow, spiritual in a way. It might just be hair, but it means something.

“
Are you shitting me?” I ask, wondering what might happen if we both quit at the same time. Two chain smokers going cold turkey. We'll be at each other's throats. “No!” Ty sweeps the curtain of my hair away with his ringed fingers.

“
Come on, Nev,” he says as his dark eyes bore into my soul and make me dizzy. Or maybe that's just his baby growing inside me, the one he doesn't know about. “We're making all kinds of new starts here, why not add one more?”

“
Go pick up the box,” I say to him as I do my best to hold back a wave of puke. It's this bad and I'm barely pregnant. Does it get worse? My stomach roils and I close my eyes.
How much worse could it possibly get?
Ty chuckles and his laugh weaves into the cracks of my psyche and warms me up from the inside out.

“
I was going to pick it up, yeah. I respect the earth, baby. I just threw it for dramatic effect.”

“
Go to hell,” I tell him, and he kisses me on the lips, nice and soft, like he's trying to mimic the gentle drift of the falling snow. “I bet you a hundred bucks you can't go more than a week without smoking.”

“
You don't have a hundred bucks,” Ty says and I stand up straight, and narrow my eyes at him. “But I'll bet you a nasty, dirty, pervy favor that I can. And hey, if you look at it right, no matter what happens, we both win.”

“
You're on,” I say and watch as he trudges through the snow and retrieves the box of cigarettes, tucking them in his back pocket at the same moment his phone rings. It hardly ever goes off; after all, Ty is like me in every which way and he has as many friends as I do. That is to say, none. Well, before me. I'd like to consider myself his friend. And maybe Lacey. She's the only person I've told about my engagement. I was so excited after it happened that when we came back from the cemetery, I locked myself in my bathroom and called her. She was as thrilled about that as she was about the baby. Seems like everyone that knows is excited. Everyone but me. What am I going to do with a baby?

Tell him now, before he finds out and you scar him beyond saving, Never Ross.

I look at Ty whose dark hair looks so soft and perfect, coated with tiny, white flakes of sky that melt as quickly as they come and drip down his nose and catch on his lip ring. When he comes back up this porch, I can spit out my secret with two little words.
I'm pregnant.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. I've survived hell. I've traveled to the depths of my own soul, found the darkness crouching there, and faced it head on. Not many can say they've done that. Now, all I need to do is tell the father of my baby that I'm carrying a piece of him inside of me, and see what he thinks we should do. I tell myself that I haven't told him because he's going to freak, because he can't handle it, but what I really think is that
I
can't handle it. I'm the one with the issues, not him. In my heart, I know that when I tell Ty, he's going to smile, take my face in his strong hands and kiss me. Whether he'll be a good father or not, I don't know because I don't really know what a good father is, but he's a perfect soul mate. That should be enough for me.
I can do this,
I think as I watch him crunch back towards me. It takes me a minute to figure out that there's something wrong, but when I see the blank look in my future husband's eyes, I know the worst that could possibly happen just has. That the one thing that could punish us both, erase the blackboard of our new lives, has just crept up and bit him.

Ty's past is back.

“
What's wrong?” I ask as I step forward and grab his arm. It takes Ty several seconds to look over at me, to tug at his already bleeding lip ring with his teeth. I reach up and cover it with two fingers, try to still his nervous habit.

“
I got a phone call,” he begins, and I don't rush him. “It was from my mother.”

3

Ty stands like a zombie on that porch. His eyes are dead and his muscles are tense. He's squeezing his hands into tight fists that make his knuckles as white as the snow at our feet.

“
Your mother?” I ask, wondering how she got his number. Ty's already told me that he has no contact with the woman who birthed him, who raised him.
What if my kid leaves me like that? What if I hurt her or him the same way Ty was hurt?
I have to blink several times to keep the creeping demons of doubt back. Obviously, I can't spill my secret now. It's not an excuse, just a fact. I mean, if I were to tell Ty now, would he even hear me? His eyes are glassy and empty, and it's a hard sight to see.

“
Sorry, not her exactly, just her ghost.”
Shit,
I think.
Ty McCabe has fucking lost it. It's just a matter of time before I go, too.
I drop my hand from his face and turn to look at the front door as it opens and a copper haired head pokes out.

“
Beth wants to talk to you, Never,” Lettie says as her eyes swing over to Ty's face and freeze there. I see right away that she senses a change in him. It's like some switch has been flicked in Ty's brain. It's turned off that fire, that light, that energy and left him blank. I have to shake him out of it and quick. I once saw this girl use a little, plastic clicker on a frightened dog. It was pulling on its leash, flailing around like a mad thing. She clicked the device and its ears snapped forward; its eyes swung over to her face. I decide that Ty is much the same as that dog in this moment. He isn't thinking clearly, and it's my job to snap him out of it. A slap is out of the question, so I maneuver myself in front of him and clap my hands hard and sharp. Works like a charm. After all, inside of each of us is a frightened animal waiting to take over and send us over the edge.

Ty blinks at me carefully and then folds his hands over his mouth in a steepled position.

“
Ty … ” I begin and then glance over my shoulder at Lettie who's still staring at Ty with a curious expression on her young face. She doesn't understand the pain she sees in him, and I hope she never does. “Tell Beth I'll be there in a minute,” I say and when Lettie doesn't retreat, I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. Little kids are excellent at reading body language. It's a skill that slowly disappears as we get older, but one that I think the world would benefit from nurturing. So much can be said with a raised brow or a tense jaw, a tilted head, a firm set to one's shoulders. Lettie sighs and retreats, letting the screen door slam behind her. She doesn't bother to close the front door which makes me nervous. My family is notoriously nosy, and I know somehow, just
know,
that Noah Scott is listening, too. I turn back to my bad boy, my heart throb, panty dropping, butterfly whose smile makes me weak in the knees and whose eyes burn me from the inside out and cleanse my pain each and every time I look at him. I turn back to him and I ask, “What's going on?” See, I know nothing about Ty's past, nothing at all. He's got all the gory, dirty details of my life spelled out in blood and I have nothing on him but the whispers of ghosts. He doesn't like his mom; she took pictures of cars; he stole her rings. Other than that, I've got nothing.

“
My mother's in the hospital,” Ty says, and then he drops his hands and turns around, sitting down on the porch swing heavy and hard like his legs have just given out, crippled by the weight of this revelation. “That was actually her
lawyer
on the phone. He says she's pretty much dead and that if I want to see her before she goes that I better get my butt up to New York.” I don't know what to say (which seems to happen a lot lately), so I just sit down next to Ty and take his butterflies in my hand, brush my fingers over his skin. It's all smooth up his arm and though I've never seen him do it, I think he shaves, so that the tattoos are as bright and crisp as can be. What do you say to someone who hates their last, dying family member?

“Would you like to go see her?” I ask. Ty laughs, harsh and hard, like I haven't heard in awhile. If I'm being honest with myself, I have to say that it's a little scary.

“
Fuck no,” he says and then pulls his hand from mine so he can drop his face into his palms with a groan. “Honestly, I hope that cancer has rotted her from the inside out.”

“
Ty,” I begin because I know how hard it is to hold onto that hate. Even now, on this Christmas Eve, this momentous moment when all her family is gathered in one, single spot for the first time in years, the first time in Maple and Darla's existence, my mother is heading out the front door and giving me and Ty a cursory glance that's as empty as Ty's were when he got his phone call. My mother (I use this term loosely) has on a pair of bright, red boots with heels that are inappropriate for the snowy weather and a short, black dress that peeks out from beneath her winter coat. Her makeup is too thick and she looks like one of the dime a dozen whores that work the streets across the road from Ty's apartment. Today, she's heading over to her boyfriend's house. He has a child of his own and wants to spend the day with her and his parents. My mother chooses this over us, chooses to go to them instead of bringing them to us. We hardly factor into her decisions.