Finding Never (2 page)

2

At
the rest stop, I have my first panic attack. I stumble into the
women's bathroom and lean against the wall with one hand while I gasp
for breath and try to keep my head from spinning like crazy.
I'm
going home … I'm going home … I'm going home …
It's been five years, and I'm going home.

Women
pass by and whisper but nobody stops to help me. I could be having a
fucking heart attack and nobody cares. I force myself across the
dirty tile floor and lean over the sink with my head hanging down and
my hair kissing the wet porcelain. A watery reflection looks back up
at me from the sink and shivers as I splash my hand into it. When I
look up, I see Ty in the mirror behind me. He's standing at the
entrance to the bathroom with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“
Want
to talk about it?” he asks me as he moves aside for a group of
giggling girls. They whisper and look him up and down as they pass.
I want to say,
You
have no idea what you're getting yourselves into. You can't handle a
man like this.
But
I don't. I just nod and follow Ty outside to a patch of grass under
a small, sickly tree. It looks decidedly pissed off to have been
planted next to the smelly restroom and I don't blame it a bit.

“
This
isn't about you,” I tell Ty as I pull the cigarette from his
mouth and take a drag. The smoke fills my lungs, clouds the severity
of the situation from my frantic mind, just the way it always does.
I sigh and watch the crackling cherry with pinpoint focus. “This
is about my family.”

“
I
figured as much,” Ty says as he sits down and stretches out his
long legs. They're encased in dark jeans, topped with a pair of
black boots, no laces. Typical Ty. He looks incredible, perfect,
edible,
dangerous.
I
am playing with fire here and no matter what happened between us last
night, I have to remember that. His shirt, after all, does say
Doesn't Play
Well With Others.
Too
true. “After all, how could anyone have a problem with me?”
he asks with a smile. I smile back, but mine is tight. Ty nods and
pulls out another cigarette, lights it, and blows smoke into the cool
air.

“
I
don't know what I'm doing here.” Ty's smile fades a bit as he
takes the cigarette between two fingers. His bracelets jingle in the
quiet space between here and there as he gestures for me to sit next
to him. I fold my arms over my chest and wait. My nerves are
stretched too taut to sit still, not when I know I have to get back
on that bus. I start to pace.

“
Sure
you do,” he tells me and I wonder when he got all of this
control over himself. He seems so put together, not at all like the
dark, tortured soul I know he is. Inside of him is a monster. I
know that because I have the same one inside of me. Right now, it's
telling me that my family doesn't give a shit whether I live or die,
that they're happy I'm gone.
If
you go back,
it
says,
you'll
only be digging your own grave. And Noah Scott? You were just an
easy chance at a lay. He knew that then and he knows that now.

“
Shut
up!” I shout as I clamp my hands over my ears. My cigarette
flies from my mouth and topples end over end, hits the wet grass and
fizzles out in the dew. Ty reaches over, grabs it and lights it
again. When he hands it up to me, his dimples deepen with a
heartfelt smile.

“
You
see that?” he asks, and I have no idea what he's referring to.
“Even when you think the fire's been put out, you can always
start it up again.”

“
What's
that supposed to mean?” I say as I take it from his hands. I
sound meaner than I want to and flop down next to Ty with the
intention of holding his hand. Instead, he wraps his arm around my
waist and pulls me to him, puts my head against his chest and cups it
there with a handful of butterflies. I change the subject. “When
you said I was yours … ”

“
I
meant it,” Ty says and that's it. We both stop talking.

3

Ty
is an enigma to me.

He's
still the wounded soul that I met at the bar, but he's also something
different now. I can't quite put my finger on it, but when he looks
at me, his eyes are full of color and life that attracts me like a
moth to flames. I'm just going to have to do my best not to get
burned. Ty could do that now, so easily that he could reduce me to a
pile of ash without my even knowing it. I've given him this massive
hold over me and my proverbial heart is beating in the palm of his
hand, in his ringed, calloused hand.

“
Tell
me about your sisters again,” Ty says sleepily. It's the
middle of the day, but we're both exhausted. Granted, neither of us
got much sleep last night. I smile. Frown. “I can't remember
their names,” he whispers into the crook of my shoulder and
admittedly, I shiver. I'm not used to having a boy sleep next to me
like this. His hair is so mussy and his face is so soft and
vulnerable … “They were like the seven dwarves or
something. Sleepy, Dopey, Horny … ” I can't hold back
a laugh as I pull at a clump of Ty's hair. “Ouch! Kidding,
just kidding. Seriously though, tell me about them again.” Ty
pauses and I can feel a shift in the air. “Tell me about them
and about Noah Scott.” I swallow hard because I knew that was
coming. As soon as I saw Ty at the train station, I knew it.

“
In
descending order,” I start with a smile. “Beth, Never,
Jade, Zella, India, Lettie, and Lorri.” And then I stop
talking because it's been five years. What if there are sisters that
I don't know about? That don't know me? My throat closes up and I
suddenly can't speak. Ty senses my shift in attitude and sits up so
that he can look straight at me. He doesn't say a thing though,
somehow sensing that there's nothing he can say.

“
Hungry?”
he asks and I nod. I'm starving in more ways than one. I'm just as
hungry for Ty as I am for the sub that he's just pulled out of his
bag. I stare at it, look at him and try to stop the world from
spinning around me.

“
Thanks,”
I say and my voice sounds very soft. It nearly gets stolen away in
the rumble from the bus and the chatter of other passengers. Ty
hears it though, and somehow I get this feeling that he will
always
hear it. A whisper, a scream, no matter what I say, Ty will hear
me. I swallow and look down at the sandwich, unwrap the white paper
covering and wonder how the hell he knew I liked pastrami and Swiss.

“
I
just got you the same thing as me,” Ty says with a slight smile
and then he pauses and frowns, one hand still stuck in his backpack,
eyes locked on me like he's just seen something that pisses him off.
“Goddamn it, Never. Why didn't you tell me where you were
going?” The change in subject is so abrupt that I find myself
speechless. I pick up the sandwich, put it to my lips and chew. We
both like Marlboro Reds, both eat pastrami and Swiss, and both have
holes in our hearts big enough to swallow us whole. What the fuck?
“If you'd have told me, I would've understood. I would've
come.”

“
Good
thing you got Swiss; I don't eat cheddar,” I tell him as he
starts in on his food. Like he cares about that. What he wants to
know is why I tried to run, why I left him after everything we've
been through together. Fortunately, he doesn't press his question.
Maybe it's because he knows that I don't really have an answer for
that. Because I got scared? Because I don't know what I'm doing
here? Why I'm going? Why I even left?

“
I
fucking hate cheddar, too,” Ty says instead, but he doesn't
look at me. He stares down at his sandwich and then closes his eyes
as he takes a bite, like he's savoring some five star fucking
delicacy. I look at him and I wonder. I wonder how long he watched
me stand there before he approached. I wonder how he knew I was
going to be at the bus station. I wonder why he decided I was worth
chasing down.

We
sit in silence for awhile as the light outside the bus fades from
yellow to pink, softens its way into night, into that quiet space
that I could never stand. When I finish my sandwich, I hand the
garbage back to Ty and watch as he stuffs it in his bag, leans back,
and puts his arm around me. He turns his head so that his breath
stirs my hair and sighs, nice and deep and long, one of those sighs
that take everything that's swirling around inside of you and push it
out.

“
You've
got all the cards now,” Ty tells me, and I shiver because I was
thinking the very same thing about him.

4

I
fall asleep only because I'm exhausted. Ty and I didn't exactly get
much sleep last night, and I'm so emotionally drained that I feel as
if I've run a marathon. My hands are shaky again and my eyes can't
seem to focus on anything. I lay with my head in Ty's lap, one
tattooed hand in my hair and the other on my hip. Both feel good,
warm, like they were meant to be there. At first, those two warm
spots were what kept me awake, brought tears to my eyes and confused
the hell out of me. As soon as I realized that Ty was not a dream,
that he was not going to disintegrate, disappear, fade away while I
was sleeping, I relaxed and drifted off.

Now
the bus is rattling, traveling across rough ground, and I can hear
the sound of gravel pinging off the bottom. It reminds me of so much
of my mother's station wagon, of traveling in the backseat as a
little girl, head on my sister's lap, eyes heavy with fatigue, that I
sit up and find that I can't sit still.

“
Nightmare?”
Ty asks, eyes droopy but open. It's hard to sleep on this stupid
bus, especially when I know we have a transfer coming up sometime
soon. I don't remember where, but it's not too far off. I shake my
head and my chip earring goes flying, smacking me in the cheek like
it's punishing me for having sex with Ty. I clamp my hand over it
and hold it against my skin.

“
I
can't sleep,” I tell him as I yawn and and try to keep my eyes
from lingering on his arms, on the sweeping curves of muscle, the
swell of his powerful shoulders. “Talk to me.” Ty takes
this seriously and turns to face me, pulling one of his booted feet
up onto the bench between us. He leans over and takes my hands in
his. I rub my fingers over his rings, feeling the smooth cut of the
blue gem beneath my skin. It feels real, but I don't know anything
about jewelry, so I can't be sure. It's too pretty to be plastic
though, like the sea without the sun, just a deep, dark piece of
earth, cut and polished until it shines. I swallow hard and speak
before Ty does. If he starts talking, he'll say something serious,
try to get us into a real conversation, try to pick me apart and find
out who I am inside. I know he'll do that because he's been doing
that from day fucking one. “Where did you get all of these?”
I ask as I count them. There are twelve. There have always been
twelve.
The number hasn't
changed, even if the rings have. It's been the same since I
met Ty McCabe in a bar and called him a whore, since he told me I
wasn't worth it. I'm guessing he's changed his mind now. The way
he's looking at me tells me that much, at least, is true. Ty McCabe
thinks I'm worth something. How much is yet to be seen, but to me,
he's worth everything. I just don't know that yet.

“
These,”
he says as he squeezes my hand tightly but gently. “Were my
mother's.” I stare at the rings carefully, trying to memorize
the pattern. I wonder if he ever takes them all off or if he leaves
a set on always. I've never seen him without them, but then again,
we haven't really spent all that much time together. It seems like a
lot because every moment has been a mark on my soul, something to
help bandage my bleeding wounds while it tears new ones and heals
those, too. We certainly have a strange relationship. I've got to
figure out exactly what it is, and if I'm going to keep it soon, just
in case. I can't let Ty break me. If he does, then I'm done for. I
will not survive.

He
wears two on each finger of his right hand except for his ring
finger. On this, he wears four, three silver bands and one gold with
a red ruby in the center. I don't ask about the bracelets on his
wrist. He changes these frequently; they're nearly always different.
I think he wears those for fun and not out of any sentimental
reason. The rings though, the rings are different.

“
Were?”
I ask, trying to fish for information. Ty has a past, just like I
do, but unlike me, I don't think he's ready to face it. I hope I'm
ready for this or if I'm being silly. I wonder briefly if, like Ty,
I should keep a lid on all of this trouble. Still, if I do, I might
boil over. I squeeze his hands back and try to find strength in
them. Whatever he might think of himself, he has a lot of that. If
he didn't, there's no way he could keep going the way he does. After
all, he's the one that initiated change for us both. Not me.