Keeping Never (8 page)

Let me rewind real quick, because fuck, Never, I can't tell you about my mom without telling you about my grandma. She was a real good woman, a real good person. My grandma was one of those women that you read about, that change things for those around them and make the world look like it's not just a dump of unwashed bodies and tortured souls. My grandma was the only person that really looked at me and saw Tyson Monroe McCabe and not just that kid or that burden or whatever. But she died because, well, that's what old people do, and for awhile after, Mom was better. I guess in her mother's mortality, she saw her own and so she started taking pictures of cars, really nice ones. The images reflected the person she might have been had she been stronger inside, been capable of caring for us both and not relying on somebody else to do. But, as all weak things are wont to do, that didn't fucking last long …

Because she met him.

She met the man who changed me from a little boy to a terrified young man, and if he wasn't already dead, trust me, I would kill him …

12

I blink and suddenly we're up in the air and there are clouds beneath us, white, fluffy clouds that seem less like bits of earth and more like sculptures crafted from the hands of artistic geniuses. Ty has stopped talking and is staring at them, too. There's a can of soda in his armrest that I never saw him ask for and a blank expression on his face that scares the shit out of me.

“
What happened to you, Ty?” I ask, and he blinks, too, and then he's grinning at me from ear to ear with the silliest, most ridiculous facial expression I've ever seen. It's fake, too, and lacks his signature dimples, the ones he doesn't really know he has but that make him so easy to read.

“
You sure you don't want to fuck?” he asks a tad too loudly and folks stare or maybe they never stopped staring, and I'm just now noticing it. “Because I really want to be the first of my friends to join the MHC.” I roll my eyes because I can tell that Ty is done talking. His hands are shaking and his eyes dart this way and that, desperate to see anything but his past. It's like a monster, the one that hides under your bed, that only comes out at night when you're most afraid. This monster stares at Ty and bares its teeth and he cannot, cannot, cannot look at it straight in the face. One day, he'll have to. He'll have to look at it and tell it to fuck off, but for now, he avoids its gaze and stares at my crotch like it's a safe haven, a refuge of some sort. I flick him in the chin and make him look at me. If he isn't ready for his monsters, that's okay, because I'm here and I'm willing to fight for him; I will
always
be willing to fight for him and that, that is a fact of life, love and happiness.

“
You cannot use sex as an escape,” I tell him although he already knows that. Ty nods his head and reaches for my left hand.

“
I know that,” he whispers softly, grabbing my sea blue ring, the one that somehow has come to symbolize our love, and sliding it off my middle finger, slipping it gently down to its rightful place on my ring finger. The gesture makes my chest tight and my heart thump painfully. “But with you, it's not like that. It's not like I'm escaping, it's like I'm already in friggin' paradise.” I snort with laughter and Ty smiles, leaning over to sear my mouth with a hot kiss, one that burns so fierce that it almost hurts.

“
What a line,” I say as I shake my head. “What a fucking line.” I pause. “If we get caught then it's all on you. I'll tell the air marshal that you blackmailed me into it.” Ty grins like a madman and claps his hands together, garnering yet another set of fresh stares from suits and trust fund kids, executives and lucky folks who think that money grows on trees.

“
You see,” he tells me with all due seriousness, rubbing his strong jaw with long fingers. “This is why I love you so damn much.”

“
Go to hell,” I tell him as he stands up and moves over to the bathroom, a sight for sore eyes in his tight, black jeans, brown boots, and bright, red tee. Getting through security with him was not easy.
Prejudice fucks.
I watch Ty drift down the aisle slowly, and I'm pretty damn sure that's he flashing me his ass on purpose just to get me in the mood. Either that or it's a distraction technique. I close my eyes for a moment and try to process the start of Ty's story. It wasn't much, but at least he's trying to pry himself open, to let me in, to give me the chance to judge his tortured soul. I already know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm going to give it my seal of approval, whatever that's worth. It doesn't matter if Ty's mother makes mine seem like Martha fucking Stewart or if he worked the corner, if he gave ten dollar hand jobs or screwed girls for petty cash. Those events are just unfortunate circumstances strung together, obstacles placed before Ty, so that he could become the strong, selfless human being that he's evolved into.

I open my eyes and see that Ty is waiting outside one of the bathroom doors with a smirk on his face, a hot, sharp slash that warms up the air around me, heated by my own feelings and the ardor that's totally inappropriate and absolutely inescapable.

Ty enters the bathroom, and I turn my head forward, back towards the large, gray seat in front of me, determined not to give myself away by acting too anxiously. After all, I've seen one too many horrible scenarios in movies regarding the infamous Mile High Club. I suppose now I'll get to find out if it's really a reality or if Ty's just shitting with me. I want to erase his pain, though, give him something else to occupy his mind for a little while. After all, he did the same for me on the bus, took something that used to be my weakness, twisted it around so that it was not only a distraction technique but a bonding exercise that drew the two of us together in ways that I can still barely understand. For so, so long, sex was just this
thing,
this dangerous activity with physical and emotional consequences that I ignored in desperation, wildly fighting to fill that emptiness inside of myself. Now, my feelings for Ty and my family sit there and make my heart tight with love, and sex has become … something else. It's just pleasure and not pain, another way for me to show Ty how I feel and vice versa, a stress reliever, exercise, relaxation … It's all of those things and more. It's something for him and me alone, just the two of us. Just us. Us, us, us.

I swallow hard and stand up, trailing my fingers along Ty's armrest as I move away from our seats and find the door, open it, and step inside. Well, okay, I don't step inside. I can't really
step
because there's nowhere to step. The bathroom's about half the size of the shower stalls back at the dorms.

“
Ty,” I say as he sweeps me in and presses me up against the tiny counter with the hard lines of his body. Already, I can feel the stiffness in his pants, needy and hungry for me, desperate to forget. “There's not exactly any room in here for the two of us.” Ty smiles wickedly and reaches down between us, making me glad that I'm wearing a skirt. If I'd been wearing pants, this whole charade would've been virtually impossible.

“
That's okay,” he tells me as his zipper slides down and he pushes my panties aside with his fingers, brushing his calloused skin across my warm heat, making me bite my lower lip to keep quiet. “Because I'm going to be inside of you soon enough. That oughta help with the lack of space.”

“
Ty,” I whisper because he's talking too damn loud and right now, with him pushing against me, I just can't seem to care. I grab my lover's face between my hands, soak in that look in his eyes, that set of his jaw, memorize the glint of the poor bathroom lighting on his eyebrow ring, his lip ring; I study Ty's curved lips, his strong cheekbones and the slight dip of dimples that I cannot even express how glad I am to see. “Promise me something before … ” I gasp and have to close my eyes to keep my groans in check; Ty is sliding into me so wicked slow, and I can feel the hot burn of his gaze raking my face, taking me in, memorizing me the same way I'm memorizing him.

“
Anything,” Ty whispers against my ear, breath warm as it tickles my skin, slides through my hair like gentle fingers. He grabs my ass with his rough hands, pulls me forward into him so that we're pressed tight, taking advantage of all that tight space to come together, to find solace in one another's arms. When we're like this, Ty and me, it feels like two halves of a broken heart are coming together, clicking into place, starting to beat. Blood flows between the two of us, nurturing, reviving, soothing.

“
You said things will change between us after this,” I begin and Ty pauses, looking up and over my shoulder into the mirror behind us. I see his own reflection flickering back from the deep chocolate of his eyes. Deep down, Ty is scared, oh so scared. I wrap my arms around him and dig my fingers into the fabric of his T-shirt. “And I understand that. That's okay. Change is good. Even the best things have to change or life gets stale, but promise me that when it comes to us, things will only change for the better.”

“
God, I love you, baby,” he says, but he doesn't say
yes.
He. Doesn't. Say. Yes.

“
Ty … ” I begin, but he cuts me off by thrusting hard into me, sliding warm and deep into my very soul. I bite into his shoulder, taste his warm, sweaty flesh between my lips and join the Mile High Club, certainly one of life's finest, fucking achievements. Ty slams his ringed hand into the mirror and it cracks, splits right down the middle with a sound like grating glass.

“
Oops,” he says, but his eyes are half lidded and heavy. He is halfway between here and there, between the past and the present, loving me but barely registering why. Ty is checking out, but I can't stop him because there's a woman at the door knocking.

“
Excuse me,” she asks. “Is everything okay in there?” And I have these terrible movie references playing out in my head, warning me that as soon as the door opens, the entire plane will be watching.

“
Everything is fine,” I say, but my voice sounds breathy and just a bit husky. I kiss Ty's lips, bite his ring, suck it into my mouth and taste hot metal, run my hands up his shirt and find his nipples. Ty is a marathon fucker, as strange as that may sound. I figure it's from all the practice, but I cannot friggin' think like that or I see red, so I just remind myself how good he is, how long he can go, how his rhythm is so in tune with my body. Ty's thrusts match me pulse for pulse as I squeeze around him and forget, if briefly, my mother, his mother, my baby, Noah Scott, the dog, just everything. This is why I was so addicted to sex: it's better than booze at erasing the worries, and it's private. Most people can spot a drunk a mile away, but not a sex addict, never a sex addict.

“
Ty,” I whisper, trying to keep my vision from spinning, trying to focus on the myriad warning signs and regulation posters that clutter the white, white wall behind the sable haired Butterfly God that fucks like a devil and loves like an angel. “Hurry up.”

“
Can't,” he says, panting, bracelets jingling, body tense and hard.

“
We don't have time,” I groan though the last thing I want to do is stop. Ty's cock is warm and hard and his body is shuddering against mine, so I hold him tight and fierce and I promise myself that I will never, ever let go.

“
Fuck time,” Ty whispers as he pauses, grabs my face in both hands and locks gazes so deeply into my black, black soul that I can't find the strength to breathe. “I need you right now, Nev. I need you so, so bad, and I'm sorry. I am so fucking sorry.” Ty doesn't tell me what it is that he's sorry for, but I have my guesses. Instead, he tugs my head to his chest and tangles my hair around his ringed fingers. Ty presses us tight, bodies mingling, heating, bleeding pain and sorrow all over one another, so that we're empty of that, so that there's room for other things like love, friendship, forgiveness. Ty comes inside of me, spills more of himself into a place that already belongs to him, as I wrap my legs around him and hold his broken body until the emotion passes and he steps away, cleans us up as best he can, and offers me his hand.

Outside the door, a flight attendant waits with thin set lips and tiny, green eyes in her long, horsey face.

“
We have a one person limit for each restroom,” she tells us seriously. I glance around the plane but nobody's looking. Somehow, someway, Ty and I have done the silliest, stupidest, most impossible task there is. And I'm not talking about the Mile High Club though in truth, it is kind of impressive. I'm taking about falling in love.

“
Got it,” Ty says as he pulls me to him and nibbles my ear. “So it's like a monogamous toilet, right? I can deal.” I grab my bad boy's hand and pull him away towards his seat, terrified that the giddy glow in his eyes will soon fade to pain.

I hate being right.

13

So Ty and I touch down at the airport which is a big, fucking hullabaloo of screaming children, grumpy parents, and hoity-toity old folks with rolling suitcases and Hawaiian shirts. It's as crowded, cluttered and busy as I'd expected and that'
s
before
I walked outside and caught a glimpse of the iron and concrete, the steel and glass, that absolute insanity that is New York City. Suddenly, my throat is tight and I can barely breathe. I am so out of my element here. I am a Midwest girl who fled to the Northern bits of California and managed, just barely, to adapt. Now here I am in a place that is so foreign to me that it might as well be another country.