I smile as I reach under the nightgown and unbutton my jeans, dropping them to the floor as I kick off my shoes and finally peel off my socks. Ty is smiling now, too, and I know that I'm going to have to be careful with him. He might be a bad boy, but even bad boys can be broken.
“You know what?” I tell him as I move forward and curl my fingers in his shirt. “There's something I always fantasized about as a teenager. Want to make a dirty girl's dreams come true?” I pull Ty's shirt up and over his head, barely making it past his arms before he's pulling me to him, grabbing me by the back of the neck and kissing my mouth hot and hungry. I can already feel his erection through his jeans, hard and desperate for me. I hope we can make it outside.
“This better be good,” Ty growls. “Because I've been looking at you for days but not touching. That wasn't easy.” He pauses, and I think we both remember the scene on the bus. “Well, okay, maybe that isn't completely true, but it sure as fuck feels like it.” I don't remind him of the weeks we spent together without touching or the fact that we're both still sex addicts, I just grab him by the hand and drag him down the stairs. From memory, I know that the third step from the bottom is a creaky one and warn Ty. He raises his eyebrows at this. “So you've always been a bad girl?” he asks, but he smiles when he says it and we make it outside without getting caught by any of my estranged family members.
I pause when my feet hit the dirt and spin around to face Ty, running my hands down his perfect chest. I haven't had a chance to explore it to my liking, so I'm going to trace every muscle a hundred times over until I've memorized the rise and fall of his abs. It will give me something special to hold in my heart, something that separates him even further from the rest of the boys I've slept with. I will learn all of Ty's nooks and crannies, imperfections, desires.
“Take off your shoes,” I tell him, and he raises his dark brows at me. He doesn't know the power the earth holds here, the way it can ground you like nothing else. The Northwest is beautiful, but it doesn't hold the same quality, the same goodness-gracious-I-am-so-fucking-home feeling. Ty doesn't argue because he gets it, like always. He sits down on the porch steps and pulls off his boots. He isn't wearing any socks underneath. I smile. “I hope that means you're not wearing any underwear either?” I ask as he stands up and puts a cigarette between his lips. Ty grins, nice and wicked, his expression sharp enough to cut.
“Well,” he says as he steps forward and wraps his arms around me, sliding them down the satin nightgown until he's cupping my bare ass. “Guess I could ask you the same question.” I try to speak, to say something cheeky like, But you already know the answer, except I can't. My skin is tingling at Ty's touch; his hands are making my blood sing, and I just can't force the words past my lips. “You know,” he tells me as he breathes against my ear and makes me shiver. “I could throw you down right here and fuck you. What do you say?” I swallow and don't say any of the things I'm thinking. Brilliant. Yes. God, please do.
“Come with me,” I choke out as I search Ty's face, try to peel back some layers and see what's lying underneath. Never before have I descended into the mind of someone who's as dark, if not darker, than I am, and it's fascinating. Or at least I think it is. Ty knows what I'm doing, and he doesn't let me dig very deep, not yet.
“Okay,” he says finally. I grab his hand and pull him around the barn that we've never used, take him past the rusted cars that used to belong to my father and around the back where long, golden grasses stretch as far as the eye can see, punctuated by the dark shadow of a single house. Otherwise, it's just us. Just me and Ty alone with the whispering wind and our pasts that are now so tangled together that I don't know if they can be separated without killing one or both of us.
“Tell me,” I say to him as he flicks the lighter and his eyes dance with flames. “Are we going back to SOG?” Ty shrugs and lets his head fall back. His eyes flicker closed and he inhales deeply. His throat is smooth and perfect with just the slightest hint of an Adam's apple, muscular with the briefest glimmer of butterfly wings. They trail down his shoulders and arm, fade into the birds that line his back.
“Depends,” he tells me as he drops his chin and hands the cigarette to me.
“On?” I ask as I take it and slide it between my moist lips. Ty steps towards me and puts his hands on either side of my face.
“On you,” he whispers against my lips. “All I need is you. You're my cure.”
“Ty,” I say as I try to step back, but he doesn't let me. He runs his hands down my arms, touching me so slightly that I swear I can feel the whorls of his fingertips against the fine hairs on my skin. “Don't say things like that,” I tell him. I don't want to be his cure. He can't let so much ride on me. I'm unstable. I'm just … so fucked up. I can't be Ty McCabe's chance at salvation. He's been making it for himself, for me. He has to keep doing that or neither of us will survive this.
“Never,” he tells me, voice strong but quiet. “I love you.” My heart chokes on his words, and I try to pull back, but Ty won't let me. I don't know it yet, but Ty will never let me go. For better or worse, I think he's my soul mate. I might not understand what that means yet, but I will. Oh God, I will, because Ty won't let me run away from it.
“Stop it,” I whisper as the cigarette slips out from between my teeth and hits the dirt. “You can't keep saying things like that.”
“Why not?” he asks me, unashamed, unabashed at his words. “You said it, too.” Ty grins at me. “Say it again,” he commands, but I can't form the words. They slipped out before at the bus station. I can't say them again, not yet.
“I can't,” I whisper, and I wonder if he's going to get upset or hurt or angry. I'm afraid to find out, so I blurt, “Come see my fantasy?” Ty smiles and follows me over to an old tractor. It sits in a clear bit of dirt, rusty and perfect in the moonlight like a solid, corporeal memory of my father. I have hardly any in my head, so it's nice to see one sitting here undisturbed. I'm surprised my mother never sold it. “This,” I say as I put my hand on one of the big rear tires. “Is a 1951 Farmall 'Super C' vintage tractor.” Ty whistles and steps up beside me.
“I love a girl that can talk shop,” he says as he runs his ringed hand over the metal with a gentle touch that tells me he senses how important this thing is. “Now, tell me, how does this hunk of junk play into your fantasies?” Ty asks with a wink. I spin slowly, follow him as he walks around me and continues around the front of the tractor like a predator circling prey. It's kind of hot.
“Listen to me, Ty McCabe,” I say, feeling bold in the white moonlight. Her touch gives me strength and banishes the demons, at least temporarily. “When I was in high school, I used to entertain thoughts about this tractor.” I pause. “And about a guy fucking me on it.” Ty's brows shoot up and he pauses across from me, facing my body with his own. I can practically feel the electricity in the air between us, sizzling, getting ready to shock us both if we're not careful.
“I see,” he says, voice low and husky.
“So, what are you waiting for?” I ask him. “Fuck me on it.”
Ty doesn't waste another moment. He steps forward and spins me around like a dancer, putting his hand on the center of my back and pushing me over so that I have to grab two bars on the back of the tractor to stay upright. My heart begins to pulse, heats my blood, makes my entire body go limp under Ty's touch.
“You are one, dirty girl,” he growls as he pushes my nightgown up my sides and lets it hang in blood red folds around my waist. My chip earring slaps my cheek, but I ignore it. I'm not having sex to fill a void or because I'm lonely or to wake myself up inside. I'm having sex because I want to have sex. With Ty. Only with Ty. I hear him unzip his pants as I stare down at the dirty ground and hope none of my sisters look out the windows and see us. If they do, it'll make an awkward morning even worse.
I'm having sex to have sex. Might not seem like a strange concept to you, but it is downright frightening to me. I close my eyes and try not to groan
as Ty slides the hardness of his cock against me, just enough to tease but not enough to release any of the pressure inside of me.
“Say it,” he tells me, and it takes me a second to realize what he wants.
“Later,” I say, and I'm embarrassed to hear my voice come out in a whimper. Ty squeezes my hips hard and I can feel the impression of his rings against my skin. Neither of us remembers to use a condom. We never have, and old habits die hard. Plus, we're both clean, so I suppose it doesn't really matter. Besides, the idea that other woman have gotten to feel Ty's hard cock warm and bare inside them pisses me off. Why should I have to have a piece of rubber separating us? I think all of these weird things in the back of my mind. In the front of it, I'm wondering what's taking a stud like Ty so fucking long to get to it.
“Not until you say it,” he whispers cruelly as he grinds his hips into my ass. I try to stand up, but I can't escape. Ty McCabe has me trapped, physically, mentally, emotionally. Tears sting my eyes. He has no idea how hard this is for me or maybe he does, I don't know. If I say it again, if I admit that I love him, then I'm only going to be emphasizing how much hold he has over me.
“I can't,” I whisper as wet drops hit the earth and pool into little balls, drawn together by cohesion, much like Ty and my tortured bits are drawn together, desperate to cling to one another, like to like, pain to pain.
“Yes, you can,” he whispers as he slides into me, buries his warmth deep within my soul, makes me cry out as my hands squeeze tight around the rusty metal. “Say it.” Ty pushes himself all the way in so that our bodies are locked together in a swirl of painful pleasure that makes me bite my lip hard. One, single drop of blood hits the earth as I gasp and try to draw a full breath. I feel so full that I don't know if there's room inside of me for air. There's just enough room for Ty and his twisted, dark, fucked up beauty. Ty waits for a moment and then begins to move, sliding himself in and out of me with slow, careful strokes that feel more like torture than anything else.
“Ty McCabe,” I gasp as he starts to breathe heavy behind me. “You are cruel in more ways than one.”
“And Never Ross,” he says through a groan. “You owe me big time.”
I stare at the earth through tears and wonder if I'm going to cry every time Ty fucks me. I hope not, but then you never know with me. You Never fucking know. Ty's moans pick up in pitch, matching mine, syllable for syllable, until we're in perfect unison, like some sort of carnal chorus, crying out our pleasure and pain for the moon and the stars to hear. Before I know it, I'm saying the words he wants me to say, and I'm meaning them, fully and completely and without regret.
“I love you,” I say as the heat takes over me and spills down my skin, singes my heart and burns my soul. “I love you, Ty McCabe.”
16
Ty and I are too fucking tired to carry on anymore heart to hearts that night, so we fall asleep together in my old bed, arms wrapped tightly around one another. Ty falls into a dead sleep almost immediately, but not me. I drift in and out for awhile until I decide that it's just too much trouble and give up. I'm too fucking freaked out at what's happening between us to let my mind relax completely. I have Ty's naked body next to mine, every warm inch of it pressing against my skin. I can hear his breathing and feel his chest rising and falling. It's such a new, frightening experience that I have a difficult time adjusting. We did this once before, after we made love, but my emotions were so up in the air that I can hardly remember. It's so hazy and foggy and distant seeming.
I keep my head on Ty's chest, let him tangle his hand in my hair and stare out the window at the night sky for God only knows how long. My brain cannot stop imagining possibilities and what-ifs and maybes. I slip out of bed after awhile, exhausted but conflicted and dig through my bag looking for something comfortable to wear. I settle on a pair of sweats and a baggy tee and make my way down the stairs to find the front door wide open.
My mother is sitting on the porch steps with a cigarette in her mouth. I stare at the back of her head for a long, long while debating the risks of going out there. I close my eyes and touch my chest. I can still feel Ty's energy swirling around inside of me, and it gives me just enough strength to make my decision.
“Still smoking American Spirits, I see,” I say as I move outside on quiet feet and sit down next to Angelica the Selfish. She chuckles, and I can't help but notice how pretty my mama is. Sitting in the starlight with her copper curls down her back, she looks ten years younger than she did earlier. I try not to think mean things like Maybe she sucks the youth out of all the young men she sleeps with, but the thoughts come unbidden and sit there as I reluctantly accept a cig from her outstretched hand.
“Why did you come back?” she asks me all casual like. She's still the only person that hasn't hugged me or cried. I force myself to think about the lack of dust in my bedroom and know that she has feelings for me whether she shows them or not. I use my mother's blue lighter and watch as the lit cherry makes her cheeks glow like they've been rouged. I turn away from her and rest my elbows on my knees as I think about an answer to that question.
“To piece myself back together,” I respond honestly. “To get the closure I never had. To find out why a murderer meant more to you than I did.” I give her no holds barred honesty and watch her face. She says nothing.
“Do you like Darla?” she asks instead as she looks over at me and examines my face like she's never seen it before. “She looks just like you when you were a baby.”
“Where is he, Mom?” I ask, inquiring about Luis. “Why isn't he here anymore? What happened?” My mom shakes her head and tries to stand up, but I grab her hand and plead with everything inside of me that she'll be a Mom for one second, just one. “Please, tell me,” I whisper as she stares down at me. The crickets mark the passing of time with gentle chirps, letting us know that no matter what is happening to us, the world is still spinning whether we like it or not.
“He tried to touch your sister,” she says, and my blood goes cold.
“What?” One single word burning with the world's hottest malice.
“Oh for God's sake, Never. That was four years ago, and I don't want to talk about it.” Mom pulls her hand away from me, but I don't let her leave. I get up and follow after her, taking my cigarette along with me.
“But I do,” I say. “I want to talk about it.” Angelica Regali shakes her head and moves into the kitchen. I chase after her and refuse to let this go. I can't. I just can't. “Who? When? What happened?”
“He's already been dealt with, Never,” my mother says as she pours herself some Scotch. “It's over and done with. Don't think you can come riding in on a white horse and save everyone from themselves. It's not going to happen. Just because you spent time on the West Coast doesn't mean you know everything all of a sudden.”
“Oh fuck, Mom,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Are you really gonna go there? Are you really going to play the region game with me? This is such bullshit. I'm not trying to save anyone from anything. I just want to know what the motherfucker did to my sister.”
“If you cared,” she says, spinning around with her glass of alcohol raised between us like a shield. “You'd have stuck around.” I see red, bloody, violent, angry red. I want to scream, but I want to keep this conversation away from my sisters, so I don't. I take a deep breath and imagine Ty. Somehow, that works, and I start to calm down.
“Who?” I ask, certain that at least she'll give me that bit of information. My mother sighs and glares at the tip of my cigarette like it's the devil come to take her home to where she belongs.
“Jade.”
“Did he rape her?” My mind is so cold right now, so empty behind all of this red rage in my vision. It's a strange place to be, and I don't like it. It makes me afraid of myself, afraid of what I might do. My mom doesn't answer, just stands there and drinks her booze. I stare, and I wait, and I wait. Jade was Luis' biological daughter which makes this all the more disturbing to me. I start
to pace.
“No, Never. He didn't get that far.” I spin around. One question hangs from my lips.
“Why?”
“Because he got caught. We already pressed charges, Never. He spent a few months in jail. What else do you want me to do? Go punish him myself?”
“I want you to tell me exactly what happened, and I want you to tell me you're sorry, that I was right, that I've always been right and that you were dead wrong.” Tears start to spill down my cheeks again. “I want you to tell me that you love me, Mom. Here's your chance. I am giving you a one time, get out of jail free card. Help me move on. Be my mother for once.”
Angelica looks me right in the face before she breaks my heart.
“I'm sorry, Never, but I can't. I can't right now.”
And then she moves away and I fall to my knees on the linoleum floor, shattered to pieces and desperate for help.
Thirty seconds later, Ty walks in and saves me from myself.
17
“Oh, Never,” Ty says, sitting down beside me. “Fuck.”
I've stopped crying which is a bad sign. I go to that empty place inside of myself, the one that always used to cry out for pretend love, and try to get a hold of myself. Ty doesn't wait for me to say anything or explain, he just reaches out and pulls me into his lap, squeezes me tight against his bare chest and holds me there. I cling to him and breathe through my nose. I want to get better, I want to change, I want a life where I don't cry at night, where I stop pushing people away, that I can live without regrets.
“She doesn't love me.” The statement is simple enough to understand, but Ty shakes his head.
“She does,” he explains as I try to push back from him. He won't let me. Somehow, in this moment he knows better what I need than I do.
“Did you fucking hear that conversation?” I ask, and Ty nods.
“I see a woman who's afraid, afraid to love, afraid to admit to her mistakes because then she has to take the blame for the pain in her daughters' lives, and she isn't strong enough for that.”
Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never Page 21