Keeping Never (9 page)

“
I'm going to rent a car,” Ty tells me as he takes in the slew of yellow cabs, tourists, and this general feeling of
rush, rush, rush
that makes me sick. “The hospital my mom is staying at is actually outside the city limits, closer to Aurora. I doubt we'll able to get a cab to take us all the way there.” Ty shrugs and then sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose with his ringed hand. He doesn't want to be here; I don't want to be here. Noah had promised that the airport would be dead on Christmas Day; he was wrong. “Come on.”

I follow Ty back inside and we meander over to one of the rental car desks whose line is longer than the Empire State Building is tall, and finally, after much grumbling from McCabe about cost, manage to wrangle ourselves up a very fine midsize sedan whose price tag is so astronomical for a three day rental that I practically have to force my hands to my sides so I don't deck the counter agent. After all, it isn't really her fault.

“
Fuck me sideways,” Ty grumbles as he tosses our bags in the trunk and looks around, blinking like he's just woken up and found himself in hell. “Christ on a Goddamn, Fucking Cracker.”

“
Did Noah … ” I begin as I climb into the passenger seat and Ty takes the driver's side. He puts one of his long, long legs in and turns to face me with the keys dangling from his hand and an unhappy look plastered across his pretty lips.

“
Noah didn't pay for everything,” he says, and then, in typical Ty fashion, tries to turn something that he finds offensive into a joke. “Do you have any idea how much that coffee in the terminal cost me? Makes this fucking car look cheap.” He stops talking and sees me looking at him, wondering how the hell he can afford this on a grocery store salary.

“
Fucking fuck, Never,” he says which is so damn literate I can barely stand it. Ty adjusts his seat to accommodate his tall form. Despite warnings to the contrary, Ty already has a cigarette in his mouth and is lighting up.

“
How verbose of you,” I say and then immediately regret it. I don't want to fight with Ty, not now, not when he needs me more than ever. Noah's words echo painfully in my skull as I watch the cherry on Ty's cig burn bright against his face, highlighting the curves of those cheekbones, making his skin glimmer with orange light.
The only thing that can separate the two of you are yourselves.
“I'm sorry,” I begin though the words are not easy for me to come by. “I just – ”

“
You just wanted to know if I paid with blood money?” he asks with a sigh as he drops his head and then presses his fingers to his temples. “Which is fine because I did.” I swallow hard and try not to show him that somehow, this car now feels dirty to me, like I can't stand to have the upholstery touching my skin. I love Ty and I don't judge him for what he did, but I can't stand thinking about it. He
sold
himself for money; I
sold
myself for brief respites from the pain. Are we really all that different?

“
Okay,” I say and that's the only word I can get to come out.

“
I'm sorry,” Ty whispers. “I don't have much money left from …
that,
and I try not to spend it unless I need it, but baby, I already did the dirty deeds, and we need the cash.” I look over at him, trying not to frown, happy that he said
we,
but positively certain I don't want to know about those deeds. Want and need are two entirely different things. I reach over and pluck the cigarette from Ty's mouth. His ringed fingers come up immediately and snatch me by the wrist. “Baby, don't,” he says, and we just stare at each other, just fucking stare.

Ty's brown eyes look like melted chocolate now, all gooey and formless, like he cannot figure out what he should be feeling or what he wants to feel.

“
Why?” I ask as he releases me and sits back, closing his eyes, black eyelashes resting on the pale skin of his face. “I thought we were quitting after?” I try to remember Noah's words from just a few hours prior, how Ty is just scared, and I try to tell myself to wait, that he's not ready, but Goddamn it, I'm scared, too, and I want to say it.

I have your baby inside of me. Help me. I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how to react. Please, please, look at me and say you understand, that you know. Tell me something stupid. Tell me you'll use your whore money to buy a crib and a car and that we can still go to school because we'll make this shit work. Tell me that we'll rent a house and take our dog and we'll both grow up to be good people who raise good people who stop the cycle of abuse in its tracks and make life something beautiful. When I found you, my soul was a barren tree, stripped of its leaves, flowers, stripped of life. When I first met you, you started something; you nurtured me and cherished me and I didn't even know it. Now, I'm ready to blossom and all I need is you to say you understand.

“
You've done so damn good,” he replies lamely and then cracks a smile. “Wouldn't do anyone any good to stop now, yeah?” I roll my eyes and slam my door, hard. Ty notices, but he doesn't say anything and neither do I. I want to cuss him out, threaten to leave, run off and deal with this myself, but I don't. Ty needs me now more than ever. How could I do that to him?

So instead I sit there in silence and tug at my chip earring, the one that I never take off, that reminds me with each turn of my head that I am a survivor, a survivor of my own, dark heart and my bloody memories. I survived the murder of my father, the betrayal of my family, the loss of my dignity, the depth of my feeling. When I think of things like that, it's hard to stay angry at Ty. After all, my only real problem is that our love has taken root inside of me. Ty has proposed and yes, it might be just because of the baby, but does that matter? I have never been a person who values marriage above all else. Love is love is love; marriage is law and paper.

“
I love you,” I tell Ty absently, eyes locking onto the window and the scenery that flies by because Ty drives too fast.

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispers and his voice is nearly lost in the roar of traffic and the hustle and bustle of the city. I say
nearly
because I will always hear Tyson Monroe McCabe. Whether it's a whisper, a scream, no matter what Ty says, I will always hear him. After all, we're too tangled now to be separated and love, love is a loud thing. It sings for all the world to hear and doesn't care who's listening.

14

Ty has to pull over six times, so that I can freaking throw up. To his credit, he gets out every time and comes over, pulls my hair away from my face and rubs my back. How many bad boys will do that?

“
Sorry,” I say, and I fight the urge to feed him another lie, to say something stupid like
stomach flu
or
Beth's cooking.
Ty lifts my chin, and I turn my face away, absolutely convinced that no matter how much he loves me, that he does not want to smell my nasty breath.

“
Here,” he says and hands me a piece of gum which I accept gratefully, trying my best to keep my eyes off of his face. I can't look at him straight right now. Ty McCabe is like a tapestry, and the threads are just starting to come apart. Pull the wrong one and he will go to pieces, slither to the floor in a heap of string and never realize his full potential. I protect him from this by not looking into his eyes or at his face. I focus on his hand instead, on his butterfly tattoos that have always, always fascinated me. “And don't be sorry, this is not your fault.” My eyes flicker closed, and I have to do my best to hold back tears. How stupid am I? I want Ty to hold me, to stroke my arm with his long fingers and say that everything will be okay. Naïveté, thy name is Never Ross.

Ty pauses and tucks his hands into his pockets, looks up at the sky and just stares. A gamut of emotions run across his face, a series of events play out behind his eyes, and I know, just know, that as soon as he climbs back in this vehicle, I am going to get part two of Ty's life story. I need to hear it; there's no doubt about that. The thing is, I don't know if I want to anymore. I like Ty the way he is. Do I need to see inside of him? Do I need to see what makes him tick? Will that hurt the beauty that's building between us? It better fucking not.

“
Never,” Ty begins as he sways in time with the whoosh of cars behind us, caught in this strange in between where the city falls away and the countryside looms. I am beyond glad that were not staying in the mother of all concrete jungles, that we're leaving and taking our little freak show on the road. “Is it possible to hate
and
love someone at the same time?”

“
Yes,” I respond without thinking. Thought, sometimes, can be our worst enemy. Now, I'm not saying that it's best to jump in with both feet, not always, but occasionally, you have to suspend your conscious mind or it will fuck you hard and fast and leave you wondering what the hell just happened. I think of Noah's poetry, and I know that I can quote it to Ty without hurting him. After all, Noah Scott will always be a part of me, but now that he is no longer a regret, no longer a threat, it's safe to show that side. “
Broken glass is not always shattered and hollow hearts are not always fractured; There are two sides to every story.
” I tap my hands on my knees. I feel a bit like a hypocrite here, like I'm going to pick apart Noah's poem like that professor in that class that seems so long ago, when Ty brought me coffee and watched the video where my mother ripped out my heart and stomped on it. Which reminds me, I still need to dance for Ty. I want him to have that, to be the last man I've moved for. “To love even though you hate is the greatest accomplish of all. To forgive when you thirst for revenge is the greatest triumph of all.” Ty tilts his chin down and watches me carefully, pupils dilating, tongue flicking across his mouth, lips dry and cracked from the dust of the traffic, the grit that flies up and makes me feel skittish about letting the love of my life stand here. “You have to accept that you love what you love, and that's the way it is, even if it makes no sense. Then you release it and let it go.” I tell Ty this from experience, thinking of my mother. Ty and I are reflections of the same person, the same life, in different glass, and I love him to fucking pieces.

“
I heart the fuck out of you, you know,” he says, and I laugh. Ty bends down, grabs my hair roughly, and pulls my mouth against his, burns my words from my throat with his tongue, gives me goosebumps on my neck when he slides his fingers down my skin. Lacey can't stop texting me about pregnant women and how horny some of them are which she thinks is, like,
super cool,
and as annoying as that is, I have to admit, I want nothing more than to push Ty into the back seat and ride him until the sun goes down, comes up and leaves again.

I groan as he pulls away, leaving me warm and wanting, desperate for his touch, his taste.

“
Tease,” I joke, cheeks flushed, embarrassed at having just kissed a dude after vomiting. How sexy is that? Ty grins, big and wide, but without dimples. I'm starting to miss those fuckers.

“
I have to do what I can to keep you around, Never,” he says as he moves over to the opposite side of the car. When he climbs in, I tell him the truth.

“
You've got me as long as you need me.”

15

Thanks for being so patient with me. I know you need to know; I know you gave me everything you had, and I know it's time, but please, wait just a little longer. I have to break this down piece by piece or else this story will break me, tear me up, and toss my remains to the sea. And fuck, Nev, I have just found my reason to live. I have tasted you, and your essence is so much a part of me that if you leave, I will find you, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you. I'm not trying to sound like some creepy fuck, some stalker, or what the fuck ever, but I just know that you and I are meant to be together, alright?

So my mom marries this big, fat, friggin' douche bag who smells like rot, whose smile is like a mouthful of moldy cheese. She marries him because he says he loves her, simple as that. It doesn't matter that it's a lie. My mom might as well be living blind because she no longer sees anything she doesn't feel like seeing – and that includes me.

I watch from the shadows, watch her tie us up in a man who does not understand what it's like to be a part of a family. All he sees is a woman who has inherited some money from her mother, who has a house, and a boy.

Me.

I was just a fucking kid, but he looked at me like he could eat me up, swallow me whole, and make me disappear.

This guy who I refuse to fucking name because he's not worth the monicker, moves into the house my grandma left my mother. Did I ever mention that she wore rings? She picked a different one every day and always had a jewelry box organized by color. She had long fucking fingers, witch fingers I used to call them, but only as a joke. I loved that old broad to pieces.