Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never (27 page)

Dinner with my sisters is … blissfully normal. I think we're all sort of tired of living in the past, so whether or not we should be discussing past issues doesn't really matter. As soon as we sit in those chairs and pick up those horribly pretentious menus, we can't stop laughing and the world is suddenly this whole new place for me. It's a bit scary. But maybe I'm in a good mood because I've decided what I need to do, what
needs
to be done. When we get home, the house is dark and quiet. I say my good nights and head straight up the stairs, feeling strangely at peace with myself and the decisions I've made. This mood may not last long, but I'm going to ride it for all it's worth.

“Want to do something with me?” I ask Ty as soon as I step into my bedroom and close the door behind me. If Jade finds out what I'm up to, she'll never forgive me. But what she doesn't understand is that I'm not just doing this for her, I'm doing this for me, too. Ty glances up at me, peeling his eyes away from the pages of a blue and yellow notebook. My notebook. My fucking journal. “Um, do you have any fucking sense of privacy or self preservation?” I ask the shirtless hottie who's lying stretched across my bed in a pair of black sweats but nothing else. His skin is bronzed and beautiful, like the surface of a penny, tanned from the sun and absolutely, one hundred percent kissable. I glance away as Ty sets the book beside him.

“Hey,” he says, and I can hear the bed creaking as he sits up. “There wasn't much else to do after your little sisters went to bed.” He pauses. “Though I did speak with your mother.” I glance back at him and am determined not to get lost in the beautiful lines of his body. If I do, I may very well just climb into bed with him and forget this whole thing. But I can't. I can't forget it because it may very well be one of my top five moments in life. I have to confront Luis about my father, about Jade. I have to because if I don't, I will always have this anger inside of myself. The anger that makes me fuck guys I don't love, that brings tears to my eyes when there shouldn't be any. I have to get rid of it, and I need Ty to help me. If Ty doesn't come along with me, I may very well kill that sick son of a bitch.

“Why?” Ty sits up completely and puts his feet on the floor. I notice that he doesn't release his hold on the notebook.

“She was asking about you.”

“And? What did you tell her?” My heart is thumping away like a mad thing, and it isn't only because beautiful, fucking, tortured, twisted Ty McCabe is sitting half-naked in front of me. I have to know what my mother asked about, what she said. I still know that I have to cut her off for my own well being, but that doesn't mean I want to, doesn't mean I'm not curious about her. Somehow, coming from her womb has connected us in a way that nobody else could possibly understand save my sisters. However, this binds me only to them and not to her. I imagine it would be different if she loved me.
If
is a very big word.

“I said you had the greatest capacity for love that I've ever seen in any other human being.” I lock my gaze on Ty's and try to tell him how I feel without words. Somehow, he gets it. He always does.

“What else?” Ty shakes his head.

“That's all she wanted to know,” he responds honestly. He thinks my feelings will be hurt, and they should be, but they're not. I just nod my head and move on. That's how I have to deal with my mom now, how I should've dealt with her all those years ago. I should've cut her off and tried to make up with everybody else, stuck around, been with Noah. But then … Maybe fate took me on this crazy ride with the very purpose of meeting Ty. Maybe he and I are meant to be together, like some kind of twisted, fucked up fairytale couple from a bloody Grimm story. I glance at the journal. I should be mad that he read it, but somehow, it seems appropriate.

“You have no sense of privacy,” I repeat and he grins at me, dimples and all.

“This was a riveting read,” he says as he shakes the journal. His bracelets jingle like bells. “I like the part where you write a whole page of
Fuck You's
to the assholes at your school.” Ty licks his sexy lips and flips open to a full page of angry black scribbles. “To that fucking, Goddamn, cock sucking little cunt who refused to pass me a tampon when I was in the women's bathroom. I hope you go to hell and die.” I laugh because that moment, when it happened, infuriated me to within an inch of my life. Doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

“Get up,” I tell him as I look longingly at the tiny sprinkle of hair that leads from the bottom of Ty's bellybutton and into his pants. A happy trail, they call that. I've followed many but none as nice as Ty's. None of the bad boys I ever slept with had that smile that burns like the sun, those deep eyes, that perfect body, that … Fuck. To anyone but me, it would sound as if I was head over heels in love. Since I have no way to judge that emotion, I move past it, ignorant and blissfully stupid. One day I'll get it. “Let's burn some memories to ash.”

Ty dresses quickly and follows me outside with a fresh pack of cigs tucked in the pocket of his pants and an extra lighter. I dig a small hole in the dirt next to our favorite tractor and start to tear up the pages of my journal. Ty bends down next to me, and we spend these few, perfect quiet moments burning the memories of my high school life to bits of black that float in the gentle breeze. Ty even lights us up with the fire from the cover which I think is pretty fucking special in some kind of strange, screwed up way.

“You know what,” Ty tells me as we stand in unison and look at each other. He still doesn't know we're going to see Luis, but I think he senses it. “You really are fucking beautiful.” I roll my eyes, but I have to admit, I kind of like it when he says that.

“You're a troll,” I tell him as we blow sweet puffs of smoke at one another. It's like we're speaking with our cigarettes, communicating in some strange way that nobody else will ever understand. It's kind of nice.

“Where are we going?” he asks me finally as we both drop our butts to the ground and step on them.

“To find the fucker that killed my father,” I say.

No other explanation and Ty just says, “Sounds good to me, baby.”

We climb into India's truck and drive down the road to forgiveness, one that's paved with the thick, dark bricks of revenge.

I can't stop spinning Ty's ring around my finger. I still don't know why he gave it to me, but I'm glad. It's a grounding point for me, something to focus on to help control my anxiety. He notices me doing it and puts a hand on my knee. I jump but only because I didn't expect the touch. In all honesty, it feels pretty damn good.

“You're not a bad driver,” I tell Ty as he follows the main road into town. There isn't much need for directions, not in here, not in this little slice of Middle America. “I mean, for a guy who doesn't have a car.” Ty smiles, but he doesn't respond, doesn't tell me how he learned to drive or when. I am laid out on the operating table for him to see, guts glistening shiny under fluorescent lights, while Ty is zipped up nice and tight, still this dark column of sin and mystery. I want to open him and look inside, see what makes him tick, what made him who he is, put all that hurt behind his eyes. I might be sorry when I do.

“So how do you know this guy's going to be at the Broken Glass?” Ty asks as he pulls into a parking space down the block from the building in question. I stare out the window and can't help but wonder how many of my sisters were conceived in the bathroom of this building or the alley behind it. I suspect at least two, creepy as that sounds. I open my door and put my heel on the step bar of the truck. The neon sign for the bar is glowing a bright, sickly green that seems at odds with the historical brick building it's housed in. India told me to look for a big, white truck with tinted windows and a mismatched camper shell.
Bingo.

“Even if that wasn't his truck,” I tell Ty with a raised eyebrow. “I would know he was here. I can practically smell him.” Ty grabs my arm before I can jump out of the vehicle. His touch is gentle but firm. He wants to tell me something important.

“Revenge I can understand, but we also have to remember what the consequences of our actions could be. You and I, we've spent too long ignoring consequences. This is our chance at a fresh start, Nev, and much as I'd like to toss this piece of human garbage off a bridge, I don't want to spend the rest of my life pining for you from a jail cell.” I smile back at Ty and lean back so that our faces are tantalizingly close.

“Guess what?” I whisper and Ty doesn't respond. He's too busy running his hand up my arm, brushing his fingers over the soft skin on my neck. “I haven't given a blow job in five years. I thought I'd ask if you'd let me practice on you.” He laughs which wasn't my expected response and grabs me as I try to pull away.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he says as I roll my eyes. Ty tilts my head back and kisses me upside down, sloppy and sexy and absolutely, one hundred percent distracting.
I'm on a mission of revenge here, boy of my darkest dreams.

“Wow, a guy excited over getting head? How rare is that?” Ty grabs me around the throat and licks his lips when I shiver. I let my head relax against his chest and don't even care that a bunch of people are stumbling out of the bar, laughing like a pack of diseased hyenas.

“I mean I'm happy that you haven't had your mouth wrapped around a bunch of other guys' dicks,” Ty tells me, and it's my turn to laugh.

“You're a real piece of work,” I say as I reach up and pull his hands away gently. “Now get off your ass and come help me beat the shit out of a man named Luis Clark.” Ty laughs again and reluctantly lets me escape the cab of the truck. I might not be so lucky on the way home.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“As a heart attack.” I hit the pavement in my heels, ducking into a slight crouch that actually makes me feel pretty fucking cool, like some kind of badass vampire chick or something. Maybe four inch pumps aren't your standard going-to-beat-the-shit-out-of-your-father's-murderer shoes, but I'll make do. Plus I have Ty, big, hard, thick, muscular Ty who punched the shit out of some convenience store robbers/wannabe rapists. What a memory. I spin Ty's ring around my finger while I wait for him to come around the front of the truck. Almost immediately he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.

“Noah made me kind of pissy, so forgive me if I'm feeling a bit possessive.”

“I'm a woman,” I tell Ty with a stare that says
Yeah, I like you where you are, but don't push it.
“Not a thing.”

“And what a beautiful woman you are,” Ty says and his bad boy charms work in disarming my feminist retort. Fine. He can put his arm around me. Whatever. My voting rights aren't at stake.

“So Noah … ” Ty begins. “He's kind of a douche.”

“Tyson McCabe,” I say and he cringes. “Just shut up and help me find my revenge. I need it. It'll help fill up this gaping hole,” I whisper as we pass by a group of stupid drunk country fucks. Ty stops me just outside the entrance to the bar and spins me to face him. He presses his ringed hand against the skin of my chest and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they're burning with dark fire, hot and sexy and absolutely deliciously deadly.

“Baby, I'll help you get your revenge, but trust me.” Ty leans in and whispers in my ear, purposely nibbling on my chip earring with his teeth. “All you need to fill that hole is me.” And then he pulls away abruptly and drags me into the dark smoky interior of the Broken Glass. I'm used to scenes like this; I've spent a very good portion of my young adult life in bars like this, but I'm not used to seeing the man of my nightmares bent over the bar with a drink in hand. My heart starts to bounce with anxiety and my lips go numb. I can't speak.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, and you didn't even care that I was watching, that you were burning me from the inside out, that with every breath my father never got to take, my heart was breaking in half, inch by inch. You ruined me; you ruined everything, and I want to fucking kill you.

I hold out my hand for a cigarette and find that Ty is already in the process of slipping one into my mouth. He lights us both up and then grabs my hand.

“Do you want to dance, Never?” he asks, giving me the most horrible case of déjà vu
ever.
I stare into Ty's eyes, and I can't move because I'm thinking all sorts of strange things like,
Thank God it's you and not Rick. I'm not into guys like Rick.
See, I was wrong before, oh so very wrong. I thought I needed someone to put me on the straight and narrow, but all I really needed was someone to take this crazy, fucked up ride with me, hug the curves of life's road and hold my hand the whole way. That's what I really needed. “This is your cue to say,
This is a bar, not a club,
and call me a whore,” Ty whispers into my ear as he pulls me into his arms and guides me to an empty space between the old wooden tables. The fact that he remembers every detail of our first meeting is not lost on me. I smile at him and realize three things in that perfect second.

First, Ty is a perfectly nice guy. He might not be as nice a guy as Rick or Noah Scott, but that's okay because he's better that way, like coffee without cream, a bitter bite that hits all the right spots.

Second, he's the perfect fit to me, like that puzzle piece that was always missing, the one that got kicked under the couch and is only showing up now. It was meant to be there all along; I just hadn't found him yet.

The third thing is the most surprising. See, I had pegged Ty as a bad boy which, in effect, is true. He is
bad.
He's got piercings and tattoos and he cusses like a sailor and fucks like one, too, but he isn't a monster. Ty is the kind of guy you can take home to your family, show off, and know that at the end of the day, he'll be there for you. I'm now totally into guys like Ty. I shouldn't be, but I am. I think there's finally something going right with me. I don't
need
a guy like Ty to put me on the straight and narrow, to help me stop doing the things I shouldn't be doing and start doing the things I should, I just want him. By my side.
Forever.

I close my eyes and let Ty swirl us around the dirty floor while the people around us drink and smoke and stare, wondering what these two crazy kids are doing slow dancing in the seediest bar in town. They can all go to hell as far as I'm concerned.

“Shame you don't dance anymore,” Ty whispers as he pulls me close, sways us back and forth with the twangy country music that's playing too loudly in the background. “Because you're damn good at it.”

“What would've happened if I had gone with you that night?” I whisper to Ty as he wraps his fingers in my hair and sighs against my skin. He can't get enough of me. He's always there touching, feeling, loving me. I have never had this before, not with anyone, not even with him. Noah Scott. “Would we have fucked and gone our separate ways?” I wonder aloud, not wanting to ruin the moment but needing to hear what he has to say about this. Don't ask why. It's just one of those things.

“I don't think so,” Ty says back to me. “I mean, maybe we'd have fucked, but once I had you, I wouldn't have wanted to let you go.”

“Liar.”

“Nope, sorry, Nev.” Ty stops dancing and grabs my face between his hands. I love it when he does that. His cigarette is hanging from his sexy lips, limp and crackling while his dark eyes burrow into me and his body reacts to mine. I can feel his erection through his pants, pressing into me, begging for another taste. “No lies, remember? I'm dead fucking serious here. I am like, head over friggin' heels, butterflies and puppies, hearts and fucking kitty cats in love with you.” I try to turn away, but I'm smiling and shaking at the same time. It's just one of those things. “Seriously,” Ty says as he turns me back towards him. “I am like a fucking Disney prince or some shit. Want me to sing for you? I could sing.” I laugh and push away from him. This night is supposed to be about revenge, about showing Luis some pain, telling him how much he hurt me, hurt my sister, my family, and Ty has turned it into a date. “Let's just blow this fucking joint and forget about this sick son of a bitch,” Ty says as he gestures at Luis' back.

“I want to,” I begin, but I can't get out anymore words. I want to go with Ty, put this behind me, but until Luis knows that he hurt me, that he hurt my sister, I can't just walk away. I just
can't.
If I do, this demon could come back later, gnaw at my heart and break me. I have to deal with it now, while I have the chance. Ty looks at my face for a moment, nods and then moves past me. It takes me a second to realize what he's doing.

He steps up to Luis, a vision of art and color with his tattoos lit from within, fired up by the strange lighting above the bar, muscles tense, bracelets jingling. He taps the big, burly man on the shoulder and I have to hold back a rush of emotion as Luis turns and I get my first look at his face for a long, long while.
They chose
him
over me? How? Why?
I blink back my pity party. I have to because I'm the only one attending. If I don't leave now, I'll get stuck cleaning up the party and I've spent enough years doing just that.

Luis stares at Ty with his ugly, scruffy face. He has a wide, fat nose with mismatched nostrils and droopy eyelids, fat lips like a pair of earthworms, and a scowl that could curdle milk. My mother was normally a fan of handsome, younger men. Until she met Luis. Why him? I will never know. That is information I will never be privy to and for that, I'm grateful. I don't need to understand her.

“Are you Luis Clark?” Ty asks him, pleasant as could be. Luis sniffles and takes another sip of his beer.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks him. Ty glances over at me as if to say,
He's all yours,
but I can't bring myself to move forward. If I do, I might kill him. I might rip Luis to shreds, tear him apart physically so he can see what I went through emotionally. I do not trust my own temper. Luis follows Ty's eyes and sees me. The air thickens and my cigarette drops from my lips, hits the floor and stays there. Nobody cares.

“Holy shit. Another Regali bitch,” Luis says, standing up. “I can smell your kind from a mile away.” I remember the
Fuck You
page from my now non-existent notebook. Just because I don't want to dwell on the past doesn't mean I can't learn from it.

“Fuck you,” I say, and it feels so good that I find my chest expanding. Adrenaline pumps through my blood, swells my chests, makes my ears pound with the sound of a thousand drums. The music pauses briefly between songs and there's this bit of silence as the folks in the bar finally catch on that there's a problem. Misery loves company, of course, so they all turn and stare and hope that my life is worse than theirs. Thing is, it's not. Not anymore. “To the man that killed my father in cold blood.” Luis stirs and starts to move forward. Ty grabs his fat, hairy arm with strong, sturdy fingers. “To the man that stole my life, who turned my family against me. To the man that tried to rape my sister, his own biological daughter, to you I say this.” I take a deep breath, swallow my fear down and hope it helps staunch the bleeding of my soul. “You are the last person on earth I want to show mercy to, but the first person that has the pleasure of receiving it. You will not be the cause of my pain, not anymore, and you will not control me, directly or indirectly.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back, just a bit, just enough that I feel this … this
something
wash over and consume me. In a good way, of course. In a very, very good way.

“What the fuck are you babbling about?”

What Luis says makes no difference to me, no fucking difference. I drop my head and open my eyes.

“To you, the man whose life is darker even than my own, I say fuck you. Fuck you and go to hell.” I grin and then realize that I've forgotten something. “Oh, yeah, and if you ever come near my family again, I will fucking chase you down and make you wish you were dead.” Luis actually has the audacity to laugh at this and jerks his arm away from Ty's grasp.

“For that, you little cunt, you are next. I'm going to hold you down and – ”

Ty steps in front of Luis, combat boots smashing into the floor with an almost audible sound. I swear, the wood nearly cracks with the heat of his passion. He looks at Luis for a moment and just when the big man is about to swing, Ty punches him straight in the face with his rings, sends him stumbling back where he smashes into the counter and collapses to a bleeding heap on the floor next to the bar stools. Nobody helps him up. Apparently, would-be rapists/ murderers garner no sympathy here.