Free Keeping Never by C. M. Stunich Page A

coffee in the terminal cost me? Makes this fucking car look cheap.” He stops talking and sees me looking at him, wondering how the hell he can afford this on a grocery store salary.
    “ Fucking fuck, Never,” he says which is so damn literate I can barely stand it. Ty adjusts his seat to accommodate his tall form. Despite warnings to the contrary, Ty already has a cigarette in his mouth and is lighting up.
    “ How verbose of you,” I say and then immediately regret it. I don't want to fight with Ty, not now, not when he needs me more than ever. Noah's words echo painfully in my skull as I watch the cherry on Ty's cig burn bright against his face, highlighting the curves of those cheekbones, making his skin glimmer with orange light. The only thing that can separate the two of you are yourselves. “I'm sorry,” I begin though the words are not easy for me to come by. “I just – ”
    “ You just wanted to know if I paid with blood money?” he asks with a sigh as he drops his head and then presses his fingers to his temples. “Which is fine because I did.” I swallow hard and try not to show him that somehow, this car now feels dirty to me, like I can't stand to have the upholstery touching my skin. I love Ty and I don't judge him for what he did, but I can't stand thinking about it. He sold himself for money; I sold myself for brief respites from the pain. Are we really all that different?
    “ Okay,” I say and that's the only word I can get to come out.
    “ I'm sorry,” Ty whispers. “I don't have much money left from … that, and I try not to spend it unless I need it, but baby, I already did the dirty deeds, and we need the cash.” I look over at him, trying not to frown, happy that he said we, but positively certain I don't want to know about those deeds. Want and need are two entirely different things. I reach over and pluck the cigarette from Ty's mouth. His ringed fingers come up immediately and snatch me by the wrist. “Baby, don't,” he says, and we just stare at each other, just fucking stare.
    Ty's brown eyes look like melted chocolate now, all gooey and formless, like he cannot figure out what he should be feeling or what he wants to feel.
    “ Why?” I ask as he releases me and sits back, closing his eyes, black eyelashes resting on the pale skin of his face. “I thought we were quitting after?” I try to remember Noah's words from just a few hours prior, how Ty is just scared, and I try to tell myself to wait, that he's not ready, but Goddamn it, I'm scared, too, and I want to say it.
    I have your baby inside of me. Help me. I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how to react. Please, please, look at me and say you understand, that you know. Tell me something stupid. Tell me you'll use your whore money to buy a crib and a car and that we can still go to school because we'll make this shit work. Tell me that we'll rent a house and take our dog and we'll both grow up to be good people who raise good people who stop the cycle of abuse in its tracks and make life something beautiful. When I found you, my soul was a barren tree, stripped of its leaves, flowers, stripped of life. When I first met you, you started something; you nurtured me and cherished me and I didn't even know it. Now, I'm ready to blossom and all I need is you to say you understand.
    “ You've done so damn good,” he replies lamely and then cracks a smile. “Wouldn't do anyone any good to stop now, yeah?” I roll my eyes and slam my door, hard. Ty notices, but he doesn't say anything and neither do I. I want to cuss him out, threaten to leave, run off and deal with this myself, but I don't. Ty needs me now more than ever. How could I do that to him?
    So instead I sit there in silence and tug at my chip earring, the one that I never take off, that reminds me with each turn of my head that I am a survivor, a survivor of my own, dark heart and my bloody memories. I survived the murder of my father, the betrayal of my