Tasting Never (Never say Never)
Page 14
“Let me finish this, and I'll be right there,” I tell him, and he's so cute and naked and tired that he just nods and leans down for a kiss. I wrap my hand around his neck and make it last, burn it into my brain and my heart and my soul. When Ty pulls away, I keep a smile plastered to my face. When he disappears, I frown. I'm having a crisis of character, as Ty would say. Maybe it's because of Noah? No, that's just a convenient excuse. I'm panicking because I'm in deep, because it has just hit me how important Ty has become, and he's the only thing I have now. If something goes wrong, I don't know what I'll do. I know as soon as I start to cry that I'm not thinking clearly, that I'm making a terrible decision. I've been making all the right ones lately and now I'm having a relapse. It happens, with alcoholics, drug addicts, food addicts. It's happening because I don't know how to handle my feelings properly. Of course, like with everything, it has to get worse before it get better.
I finish my wine, get up, get dressed and leave.
32
I'm standing under the corrugated metal roof that protects the single bench from the rain. In one hand, I have an unlit cigarette that I put between my lips, just so I can hold something there and forget what it was like to have Ty's mouth on mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel drops of water run down my eyebrows and slide down the sides of my face. Tears threaten, but I push them back, determined to keep my promise to Ty. Even if I never see him again, I'll always keep my promise. If I've learned anything in the past few weeks, it's that integrity and honesty are all we really have. Once we lose sight of them, it's just a slow descent into madness. Despite all the odds, I've climbed out of that misery. I'm standing in the light now, and I refuse to go back to the darkness.
I clench my fist around the handle of my suitcase and open my eyes to the sheet of rain that's falling all around me, splashing the dirty pavement and pinging off the roofs of nearby cars. On one side of me is a woman in a leather jacket with haunted eyes and a ghostly smile on her face. On the opposite side is a guy who's determined to tell me his life story, whether I want to hear it or not. I tune out his voice, turn my thoughts to their maximum volume and let them continue to convince me that this is the right thing to do. I've been away from home for far too long. It's time to see my mom and my sisters again, to visit my father's grave, to start over. It's not too late. Besides, I'm being overdramatic. I'll be back after break, so it isn't like I won't ever see him again. I swallow hard and try to remember to keep breathing.
“I can never go back,” says the man, and I turn my face slowly to look at him. He isn't looking back at me; his gaze is focused out towards the street, but he isn't seeing it. I recognize that expression. He's looking inside of himself, trying to find a reason to be alive. I want to tell him it's okay, that if he tries really, really hard, that he'll find it, but that's his conclusion to come to on his own. I found my reason. I found a whole bunch of reasons and that's why I can't stay here another second. “I can never go back,” the man says again, trying to convince himself that it's true. I once thought that, too, but I know that it isn't. You can always go back. Sometimes, it's just easier to pretend that you can't.
“Never say never,” says a voice just outside of my peripheral vision. The tears I've been holding back spill out, run down my face like rain. My lip trembles a bit and the cigarette falls to the ground, lands in a puddle at my feet. Footsteps splash across the pavement towards me and suddenly, there he is with his wet hair in his face and a suitcase in his hand.
“Fuck off,” the man tells Ty and stands up, turning away from the two of us and slumping down on the ground on the opposite side of the bench.
“Guess he isn't ready for that kind of advice,” Ty says to me, just a blur in my watery vision. I'm trying so hard not to look at him because if I do, I'll never be able to look away again. I'm in love, big time. I've fallen so hard for Ty that if I don't get away now, I'll never be able to get back up. Ty adjusts himself and puts the suitcase down. “But I wasn't talking to him, anyway, I was talking to you.”
“Go away,” I say, but I don't really mean it, and he can tell.
“Is this seat taken?” Ty asks as he points to the bench, rings and bracelets jangling, dripping water across the last bit of dry pavement that there is. I don't answer him. “Never,” he says again and I look up at the sky, eyes so full of tears that I can barely see it. “You can't run away,” he tells me as he steps close enough that the toes of our shoes are brushing together.
“I wasn't running away,” I tell him. “I'm going home. I have to go home, Ty. There are so many loose ends that I have to tie up. If I leave them hanging, there's a chance I might get tangled up, and I don't want that ever again.” He smiles and my heart breaks in two. When he reaches a hand up and tries to cup my face, I turn away.
“Don't,” I say, convinced that if he touches me, I'll shred my ticket and never leave his side again. He doesn't listen; Ty never listens. He slides his fingers across my chin and even though they're cold and wet, they're still warm somehow. It doesn't make any sense, but it's true. “Ty,” I breathe as his other hand comes up and tangles in my hair. Then his mouth is on mine, hot and desperate, and I'm dropping my suitcase to the ground and reaching up, pressing my hands into the soggy fabric of his T-shirt.
“Never,” he says, pausing for just a moment with his lips pressed into the skin of my forehead. “You're so fucking stubborn sometimes.” I shake my head and dodge his next kiss, determined to say what I need to say.
“You said you've never loved anyone, Ty, but I have, and I still do. I have to go home and make things right, and I can't just dismiss my feelings anymore. I love you, and I can't stand around and watch you not loving me.” He chuckles and I nearly sock him in the face for it. Instead, he grabs my hand and presses a kiss to my trembling fingertips.
“You misunderstood what I was trying to say. I said I've never loved anyone before, meaning before this moment, because Never, I love someone now.”
“Who?” I ask and Ty laughs again, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Oh come on,” he says, but I won't let it go, not anymore. I need to hear it now, from this person, this way.
“Say it,” I tell him as more tears fall and I find myself wondering what the hell I was doing running away from my best friend, from the person who helped me see the light. I might be getting better, but I guess I still have a lot to learn.
“I love you, Never,” Ty says, and I bite my lip to keep my emotions in check. They're all swirling around inside of me, flickering like fireflies and lighting up my soul. “Now, promise you'll take me with you,” Ty pleads, and I nod because I'm having a hard time speaking through the kisses and the feel of his hands in my wet hair. “Thank god,” he says. “Because I put in a notice at my apartment this morning. If you'd have turned me down, I would've had nothing to go back to.” I laugh, but it's all wrapped up in tears and doesn't sound very pretty. “Now, kiss me again,” he commands and I do.
If you enjoyed this book, look for Broken Pasts!
Books by C.M. Stunich
The Seven Wicked Series
First
Second
Third
Fourth
Fifth
Sixth
Seventh
Houses Novels
The House of Gray and Graves
The House of Hands and Hearts and Hair
The House of Sticks and Bones
The Huntswomen Trilogy
The Feed
The Hunt
The Throne
Indigo Lewis Novels
Indigo & Iris
Indigo & The Colonel
Indigo & Lynx
Stand Alone Novels
She Lies Twisted
Hell Inc.
DeadBorn
Broken Pasts
About the Author
C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land nursed Caitlin's (ye
s, that's her name!) desire to write strange fiction novels about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
She can be reached at author@cmstunich.com, and loves to hear from her readers. Ms. Stunich also wrote this biography and has no idea why she decided to refer to herself in the third person.
Happy reading and carpe diem!
www.cmstunich.com