Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never

by C. M. Stunich

  33

  “Ty McCabe, I'd like you to meet my father, Nicholas Andre Ross.” I pause next to the old headstone and lay my fingers across the cement. My eyelids flutter closed of their own volition, and there's a second there where I'm no longer inside my own head, where I'm floating through the cemetery on the breeze, coming to rest with a sea of dead leaves, melding into the earth. Being here is so … refreshing. I've been avoiding it since I was ten and now, I cannot believe I ever left. Despite what others may say, the dead are not frightening; they are peaceful.

  I open my eyes and watch Ty in his scarf and coat. He is so cute like that; he makes me want to do things like giggle or bite my lips. I resist both in honor of my father, and try not to notice the way his hair is ruffled by the cold fingers of the wind, how his dark eyes watch my every move with interest, with love. Yesterday, he thought I was going to tell him something horrible. What, I don't know, but now, he's even more cheerful than usual, if a bit jumpy. On the drive over, he was fidgeting with his rings, spinning them around on his fingers like I've never seen him do. When he saw me watching him with a raised brow, he blurted something interesting, something that I've tucked away for later. He told me that the rings were passed down from his grandmother to his mother and that that's why he took them. Because she didn't deserve them. And then, of course, he clammed up and didn't speak another word about it. I'm getting the feeling that encouraging Ty to talk about his past is not going to be an easy thing to do.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ross,” Ty says as he kneels down and lays a bouquet of black roses at the head of my father's grave. The flowers were his suggestion, something beautiful, something dark. Like you, he'd said. I smile at the memory. “I can assure you that my intentions with your daughter are in no way honorable, and I intend to ravage her quite savagely this evening.” I give in and giggle which is just weird. Never Ross doesn't giggle. I hold out my hand for Ty and he takes it, but instead of standing up, he pulls me down and rolls us over so that his body is lying mostly atop mine.

  “Tell me something,” he says as he rests his head on my chest and I stroke his hair with my fingers. “If I were to, say, ask you to let me ravage you not only this evening, but everyday for the rest of our lives, how might you respond to that?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I respond, sighing in tune with a winter breeze. I'm taking Ty's words figuratively, but he's serious. I can see that as soon as he sits up and kneels between my legs. I've never had fantasies about fucking in a cemetery but with Ty sitting there, it's not hard to get ideas.

  “I mean it, Never,” Ty says as he licks his lips and shakes his head like he can't believe he's doing what he's doing. “Look, I've been alone for a long time, forever it seems, and I've met a lot of girls and I've … ”

  “Ty, no,” I say. I don't want him to talk about that stuff, not right now. Even the thought of Ty in another person's arms, in their body, makes me sick to my stomach. He reaches out and gently places a finger over my lips.

  “No, I'm going to say this,” he tells me as I struggle to prop myself up on my elbows. “Fuck, Never, I have to say this before I forget how lucky I am and start to hesitate. Okay, so, you know, when it comes to relationships and friendships and all that other crap.” I smile at Ty because his diplomatic speeches are always full of dirty words. Always. It's part of what makes Ty, Ty. “People like to judge them on how long they've known each other, and I just … Never, I think a real friend is someone who sees you at your worst but likes you anyway, who's there for you even if they'd rather not be.” He pauses. “You're that friend for me,” he tells me, eyes on the grass next to my hips and not on my face. Whatever it is that he wants to say, he's still gearing up for it, getting ready to blow my ship out of the water, my rocket out of orbit, my heart from my chest. “And … you're more than that. You're … ” Ty pauses again and pulls a ring off of his finger. It's the blue one this time, the one that sparkles like the sea. “Never,” he says, and then he levels his gaze on me, connecting to my inner being with just a blink of his eyes, diving in, swirling around inside of me, consuming me in the only way I want to be consumed. “Will you marry me?” Ty slips off the ring and holds it in his palm like a shining symbol of the words he's just spoken.

  Holy shit.

  Holy shit.

  Holy fucking shit.

  I struggle out from under Ty and stumble to my feet using my father's headstone for support. Ty follows after me and grabs me before I can go running, pulling me against him, his hands firmly planted on my hips, the ring digging into the flesh of my side. But then, he didn't even need to. See, I'm not into running, not anymore, I'm into guys like Ty McCabe. And guys like Ty McCabe, I guess they're into me, too.

  “Are you serious?” I ask him because it's all I can think to say. He nods and nibbles at his lip ring like he just can't keep still. His face is frozen, awaiting judgment. This boy, this man, that I picked up in a bar with no intention of ever getting to know has now just asked me one of the world's most perplexing questions. Now, I'm not a girl who's obsessed with weddings, who dreams about white dresses and tiered cakes, but I am a girl who dreams. I dream of a partner that I can split my pain with, one that understands me, that completes me, makes me whole, and now I've found him. And it's him, not me, but him, who wants to make it official, declare our love on paper, celebrate it. Ty McCabe wants me not just for now, but forever. I swallow and try to still my aching heart. It's been working so hard lately, beating for so many people, learning so many things. It's hard to keep up with it all.

  I wondered once if Noah Scott could've been my knight in shining armor, but I see now that I was wrong. To be a knight, you have to save someone from something. Noah Scott couldn't have saved me from anything because there would've been nothing to be saved from. I made hard choices, wrong choices, bad choices, call them what you will, but they made Never Ross and I'm starting to see that she isn't such a bad person, that maybe she's more interesting than I thought. I see now that my knight is Ty McCabe, that he came in and helped save me from myself, and now, now I'm going to save him.

  I lean over and kiss Ty on his perfect lips, feel his warm hands on my hips and decide that I won't tell him about the baby, not yet. First, I'll save Ty McCabe and then I'll tell him. I see his eyes are wide, and there's a bit of sweat on his forehead. I smile and realize that I've forgotten to answer the one question that I never thought I'd hear, especially not from Tyson McCabe, my bad boy, my tortured soul, my little piece of dark with bits of light that glimmer like stars.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “Yes, I will.”

  "In your pain, I see my own, so I'm going to tell you and only you, okay?"

  1

  I'm keeping a secret from my soul mate.

  It's not an easy decision to live with and it's reduced my nails to mere stubs and turned my fingers raw and bloody as I chew at them nervously. All the while, my sea blue ring, the one that sparkles with Ty's heart and the best laid plans of men, shines bright in my vision and makes my eyes water even now.

  Seriously, Never, don't be such a fucking coward. I sigh and drop my hands to my lap, determined to get some hot sauce or something, anything to keep them out of my mouth. The thought of spicy food makes my stomach turn, and I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm puking my guts out and silently cursing Ty. You should've known, I tell myself as I sit back against the bathroom cabinet and try to breathe through my nose. Guys like that always succeed the first time. Fucking stud.

  “Hey.” I jump and my eyes snap open, slide up Ty's long legs and get caught on his new lip ring. It's gold with a green gem in the center, and sort of reminds me of St. Patrick's Day. Still, he looks hot in it. Ty always looks hot. “Beth wants to know if we're opening any presents tomorrow evening?”

  “Huh?” I ask as I put the butt of my hand to my head and wish like crazy for a cigarette. I never realized it before, but smoking was like a breathing exercise for me. In. Out. In. Out. It was one of the things that kep
t me from hyperventilating which is what I feel like doing now. I want to open up my mouth and blurt my secret out right now, let it float in the air like a butterfly and land on Ty's lips where it will rest in suspended silence until the end of time.

  Ty senses something is wrong – he always does – and leans against the door frame, popping a cigarette in his mouth. My eyes follow the tip of it as he talks and it jiggles around enticingly. I feel like a dog at the racetrack, like I would run all damn day for a single drag.

  “Let's talk about it,” he says, and I know that he's just speculating.

  “Talk about what?” I say as I examine my ring and smile. Yesterday, Ty asked me to marry him, and I said yes. We haven't told anyone about it yet, but we're going to tomorrow, on Christmas Eve. It's all so fairy tale that it kind of makes me want to roll my eyes, but at the same time, it's so sweet that I can't possibly act like I'm not affected by the gesture.

  “Well … ” Ty drawls as he glances over his shoulder for signs of my sisters. When he doesn't find anyone, he lights up and closes his eyes in bliss, taking a drag and pulling the cig from his mouth with two fingers. I practically drool and have to turn my head to stare at the bit of mold that's starting to creep up from beneath the baseboards. Not good. “You keep throwing up, so something must be wrong.”

  “I'm on my period,” I say because that makes so much fucking sense. When I glance back at Ty, I see that his dark brows are raised skeptically.

  “Uh huh,” he says as he puts the cigarette back to his lips, bracelets jingling like summer wind chimes. “Because a woman's menstrual cycle frequently comes without blood and with a whole shit ton of puking.”

  “Thanks for making me feel so attractive,” I say as I stand up and turn around to face the sink. Ty steps inside behind me and closes the door with his foot, sliding his arms over my shoulders and down my chest. He rests his chin against my shoulder and lets the smoke from his cig trail out and tickle my nose. I take a big, guilty inhale and try not to think about all the horrible things it may or may not do to this baby that I may or may not keep.

  The longer you wait to talk to Ty, the harder this will be, dumb ass.

  “I find you very attractive,” he says and drops the cigarette purposely into the still running water of the sink, stepping back and grabbing my hips with his hands. “Want me to show you exactly how much?” He pauses and then adds, “The future Mrs. McCabe.”

  “Right,” I say as I resist the urge to give into him and let myself go. Ty makes me feel like that, and I think that's one of the reasons I like him so much. He makes me want to split my body open and release my soul, let it fly and not care how black it is, how tarnished. Despite what I might say, Ty really does make me feel beautiful, inside and out. “Who says I'm changing my name?”

  “Aw,” Ty says as he spins me around and kisses me quick and sharp on the lips. “But I want to have the same last name as you.”

  “Change yours,” I say with a shrug, but I don't think 'Ty Ross' has the same ring as 'Ty McCabe'.

  “Never!” There's a banging at the door. It's Lettie. “Beth says that if she catches you smoking, she's going to ring your neck.”

  I sigh and put one hand on my hip, just so Ty knows he's in trouble.

  “Sorry, baby,” he tells me and presses the sweetest, softest kiss to my mouth, hot and perfect. How can I stay mad? How can I continue to lie?

  “I love you, Ty McCabe,” I say as he smiles and draws some hair behind my ear with his fingers.

  “I love you, too, Never Ross.”

  2

  Noah Scott comes over for Christmas Eve which is fine because nobody knows what happened between us in the kitchen that day, the way he said goodbye, the way he gave me up for good.

  “Hi Never,” he says as he scoots in the front door and shakes snow from his boots. “Merry Christmas, Ty.”

  “Merry X to the Mass,” Ty says which is weird but kind of cute. Noah notices my ring right away though I'm not wearing it on my ring finger; it's on my middle. He stares at it for a long time and then slides his blue, blue eyes up to Ty's dark ones, pauses there and smiles. It's a sad smile, but a real one.

  “I brought some gifts over, but I left them in the car. Do you think you could help me carry them in?” I open my mouth to reply, but Ty beats me to it, stepping forward and bending down to grab his combat boots.

  “Yup,” is all he says as he stands up and kisses my cheek gently, lip ring brushing against my flesh, warm and hard. “Be right back, babe.” I sigh, but I don't say anything. What is there to say, really? My first love and my true love are spending a holiday together with me and my recently repaired family. Ty and Noah escape outside without getting caught by any of the little ones. All they want to do is play in the snow, but Beth, in all of her motherliness, has said it's too harsh out right now, and I can't disagree. Snow is falling in crooked sheets, blanketing the ground with soft pillows of white that have already toppled some of the weaker trees in the area and snapped off limbs from the strongest. We'll go outside eventually, she tells them, eventually but not now.

  “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 c
oal 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.