Free Keeping Never by C. M. Stunich Page B

family, the loss of my dignity, the depth of my feeling. When I think of things like that, it's hard to stay angry at Ty. After all, my only real problem is that our love has taken root inside of me. Ty has proposed and yes, it might be just because of the baby, but does that matter? I have never been a person who values marriage above all else. Love is love is love; marriage is law and paper.
    “ I love you,” I tell Ty absently, eyes locking onto the window and the scenery that flies by because Ty drives too fast.
    “I love you so fucking much,” he whispers and his voice is nearly lost in the roar of traffic and the hustle and bustle of the city. I say nearly because I will always hear Tyson Monroe McCabe. Whether it's a whisper, a scream, no matter what Ty says, I will always hear him. After all, we're too tangled now to be separated and love, love is a loud thing. It sings for all the world to hear and doesn't care who's listening.

14
    Ty has to pull over six times, so that I can freaking throw up. To his credit, he gets out every time and comes over, pulls my hair away from my face and rubs my back. How many bad boys will do that?
    “ Sorry,” I say, and I fight the urge to feed him another lie, to say something stupid like stomach flu or Beth's cooking. Ty lifts my chin, and I turn my face away, absolutely convinced that no matter how much he loves me, that he does not want to smell my nasty breath.
    “ Here,” he says and hands me a piece of gum which I accept gratefully, trying my best to keep my eyes off of his face. I can't look at him straight right now. Ty McCabe is like a tapestry, and the threads are just starting to come apart. Pull the wrong one and he will go to pieces, slither to the floor in a heap of string and never realize his full potential. I protect him from this by not looking into his eyes or at his face. I focus on his hand instead, on his butterfly tattoos that have always, always fascinated me. “And don't be sorry, this is not your fault.” My eyes flicker closed, and I have to do my best to hold back tears. How stupid am I? I want Ty to hold me, to stroke my arm with his long fingers and say that everything will be okay. Naïveté, thy name is Never Ross.
    Ty pauses and tucks his hands into his pockets, looks up at the sky and just stares. A gamut of emotions run across his face, a series of events play out behind his eyes, and I know, just know, that as soon as he climbs back in this vehicle, I am going to get part two of Ty's life story. I need to hear it; there's no doubt about that. The thing is, I don't know if I want to anymore. I like Ty the way he is. Do I need to see inside of him? Do I need to see what makes him tick? Will that hurt the beauty that's building between us? It better fucking not.
    “ Never,” Ty begins as he sways in time with the whoosh of cars behind us, caught in this strange in between where the city falls away and the countryside looms. I am beyond glad that were not staying in the mother of all concrete jungles, that we're leaving and taking our little freak show on the road. “Is it possible to hate and love someone at the same time?”
    “ Yes,” I respond without thinking. Thought, sometimes, can be our worst enemy. Now, I'm not saying that it's best to jump in with both feet, not always, but occasionally, you have to suspend your conscious mind or it will fuck you hard and fast and leave you wondering what the hell just happened. I think of Noah's poetry, and I know that I can quote it to Ty without hurting him. After all, Noah Scott will always be a part of me, but now that he is no longer a regret, no longer a threat, it's safe to show that side. “ Broken glass is not always shattered and hollow hearts are not always fractured; There are two sides to every story. ” I tap my hands on my knees. I feel a bit like a hypocrite here, like I'm going to pick apart Noah's poem like that professor in that class that seems so long ago, when Ty