Never Can Tell

by C. M. Stunich

  “Aren't you just fucking precious?” I ask, rolling my eyes and doing my best to keep the smile off my face. I don't ever tell him this, but when he does immature shit, I find him cute. How ridiculous. “Have fun cleaning that up?”

  “Sure you don't want to just jump in the car and drive away?” I give Ty a look and he laughs.

  “Okay, okay, I got it,” he murmurs around his cigarette. I step back as he bends down and gathers the plastic up, gesturing for the stupid dog to jump into the car and closing the door behind her. I sway on my feet a moment and have to put out a hand to balance against the side of the car. Like a hawk, Ty's eyes snap up to mine. “Are you alright, baby?” I nod and try my best to smile. He knows better, I'm sure, but I'm keeping a game face on for him. Even if I have to retreat to the bathroom every five minutes to puke, I'm going to grin and bear it. For Ty. Always for Ty.

  I lean back against the car and let my eyes fluter closed for a moment. I'm exhausted, all the way down to the bone. Last night, Ty and I packed up the rest of our shit. This morning, we got on an airplane. Last night, he confided his fears in me. This morning, he's perfectly fucking fine. I want to talk about it, but I can see that he doesn't. My only hope is that since we're out of New York, his fears are all for naught. He's not wanted for murder or anything, so no detective in his right mind is going to come after him. They might call him, sure, but that's okay. I think that's what he wants. Despite Hannah's warning to the contrary, I think he wants to hell the cops everything he saw all those years ago. If this cold case can get solved, I have a feeling that a little piece of Ty would heal along with it.

  Marin Rice.

  The girl that Ty saw all those years ago, the one he ran away from but never forgot. The one whose death he blames on himself.

  I open my eyes and watch my dark knight gather up the plastic and carry it around the corner in search of a trash can. He thinks I don't know, but I can guess he's going to try and steal a smoke while he's at it. I drop my chin to my chest and look down at Noah, wishing with everything inside of me that he doesn't have to go through the same sort of pain that Ty and I have inside of us. The little monster inside of me, the one that's always told me to do things, who made me into a person I didn't want to be, I have to make sure she's not hereditary. I brush my fingers across Noah's soft tuft of hair.

  There's always the chance that Hannah is just stalking Ty, that she didn't come over just to warn him. Why would she anyway? What does she have to gain? Why does she give a fuck? And then again, we don't even know if she's telling the truth or not.

  I groan low in my throat and let my head fall back.

  Ty believes her. That's what counts. I need to operate off of that assumption.

  I pull my lighter out and flip it open, staring down at the flame and salivating at the thought of lighting my cig. An older couple walks by and gives me a pair of looks that could kill. I flip them both off and tuck the lighter back in my pocket. I might've been raised by a white trash mother, but I'm not about to smoke a cigarette with one baby strapped to my chest and another inside my belly. I take my cig out from between my lips and tuck it into my pocket, just in case I need a pacifier later. You never know.

  “Back,” Ty says, coming around the corner. His unlit cig is still in his mouth. I smile and step forward, running my hand up his chest. He looks down into my eyes and I see an apology burning there. I don't know what it's for or why, but I can see that he means it, genuinely and from the bottom of his heart.

  That's when I smell the cigarette smoke.

  “Ty,” I begin, raising an eyebrow. He laughs, low and deep, masculine and dark. God, I just want to fuck the shit out of him. “That's a bad boy,” I whisper, drawing his cigarette from between his lips. I stick it into the left front pocket of his jeans, burying my hand in as deep as I can get it, caressing his leg through the fabric.

  “That's right, baby,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to our son's head and then a filthy, immodest one to my lips. “I'm just downright naughty.”

  We press just a little bit closer, Noah heated between our chests, keeping us apart but pulling us together, yawning like a little butterfly, breath as soft and sweet as the flutter of wings. Ty's tongue teases mine and I heckle him right back, tasting, finding, feeling each other, having a discussion without words. We kiss for what seems like forever, standing there with people staring, wondering who these two young idiots with the weird hair and the tattoos are, why these punks with the baby are lip locked in the middle of the parking lot. What they don't know, but what they should, is that you Never can tell when something is going to go wrong, when life is going to fuck you in all the worst ways. So we take each moment and we treasure it; we take each moment and we stretch it out to forever.

  11

  I sit in the backseat with Noah and the cat, even though I feel like a tool for doing it. I crawl back there and for the first time ever, kind of, sort of feel like a … a mom.

  “I'm a mom,” I tell Ty randomly as we pull out of the parking lot and start down the highway towards my childhood home. “I have a son.”

  “Well put,” Ty says, no sense of mockery in his voice, just a sprinkle of good humor. He tries to look at me in the mirror, but I'm too focused on Noah's face. He's smiling at me and drooling like crazy. I push the end of my sweatshirt up to cover my hand and wipe his chin off with a sleeve covered in bloody skeletons. He doesn't seem to mind so much, blowing happy bubbles when he hears his dad's bangles ringing as he spins the wheel and flips a bitch, turning us back towards the exit we just missed. I have to admit, I'm impressed that he remembers the way. “Don't forget, you're a wife, too.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?” I ask, leaning back against the seat and touching Noah's booted feet. Ty's got him dressed in a ridiculous outfit today – well, he dresses him a ridiculous outfit pretty much everyday, but this is the worst – a red and black striped tee with a snarling wolf face on it, a pair of black jeans, and faux combat boots. “Our kid looks like a biker gang reject,” I say, noticing for the first time that his pants have fake chains embroidered on the sides. I change my mind; this outfit is probably what got us searched by airport security.

  “He's a stud,” Ty says, glancing in the rearview again and throwing me a wink. “Just like his daddy.”

  “I'm dressing him starting tomorrow,” I say and when Ty's gaze catches mine for an instant, I can see that innocuous statement means something to him. His smile gets soft, and I have to look away.

  “I think he'd love that, Nev.”

  “I don't think he'll even care,” I say, but I glance back over at my baby, our baby, and I let him curl his fingers around one of mine.

  “Don't say that,” Ty whispers, and my heart starts to pump like crazy. My eyelashes drop down to rest on my cheeks and I can feel beads of sweat popping up here and there. I'm really good at the sex stuff and even pretty damn good at the romance stuff, but this … this family intimacy thing is killing me. It makes me so uncomfortable that I can't breathe. I don't deserve this. A broken whore like me doesn't deserve any of this. My eyes pop open and see that Noah is smiling at me again. I feel ashamed. “He loves you, Nev.”

  “Ty.” Just that one word and he can hear how much I need him, how much I love him. He drapes his right arm over the passenger seat, so I can lean forward and press my face against his skin, hook my fingers around the bronze bangles he's wearing today. I kiss the back of his wrist and close my eyes again, just for a moment, just until I can push this back and focus on more important things. My self-loathing comes last right now. I have to get Ty through this Marin Rice thing, and then I have to decide what to do with … My fingers drop to my belly button, push up the sweatshirt and rest there, feeling, listening to the ebb and flow of my body. Another baby. I'm not even good with the one I have. What if, by bringing in a second, I fuck them both up? What if I've only got enough in me for one?

  I bite down on my tongue to push back the panic, turning my head so that
my cheek is against Ty's butterflies and my eyes are on Noah.

  “I think I might know something that'll make you feel better.”

  “What's that?”

  “I brought the strawberry flavored lube in my carry-on, just in case you wanted to give me a blow job while I'm driving.” I sit up and stare at the back of his head.

  “You're kidding me, right?” Ty chuckles.

  “Of course I am,” he says, but I'm not sure that he is. Still, I roll my eyes and feel relief in my annoyance. Ty knows me too well. “Oh, and check this out.” He gestures absently with his right hand. “Look in the side pocket of Noah's baby bag. I bought you guys a joint gift.” I raise my eyebrows and bend down, dragging the bag across the floor and between my feet. I dive in and search around, pushing past diapers, wipes, a pack of Marlboros (what kind of parents are we?), and some extra socks. And then I find it.

  “This is the most atrocious thing I've ever seen,” I tell him and he grins. “What the fuck even is this?”

  “It's a pirate hat. For Noah.”

  “This is dumb,” I say, but I'm smiling. Always smiling when it comes to Ty fucking McCabe.

  “Ah,” he says, snapping his fingers like he's just remembered something. “I forgot. Check in the pocket again. I'm pretty sure it came with an eye patch.”

  I love that fucking man.

  12

  “Why is your baby dressed like Long John Silver?” This comes from Beth, is, in fact, the first thing that comes out of her mouth when we climb out of the car and unhook Noah from his car seat. Ty laughs hysterically, and I have to pause for a moment and take in the sound, like embers falling from the night sky. Beautiful, strong, clear. It's probably the nicest laugh I have ever heard come out of that boy's mouth.

  Beth has a baby carrier strapped to her chest, but unlike ours, it has no bullets on it. Not half as cool. When we make eye contact, our hazel eyes reflecting one another like a mirror, she starts to cry. Her hot, fat tears fall on her daughter's head as she holds out her hands and touches the sides of my face.

  Beth looks tired, worn-out, like maybe there's something going on that she's not telling me.

  “Are you alright?” I ask as she tries to kiss my cheek. I pull back and give her a look. Her hair is longer and a little disheveled. The perfect bob cut she had last Christmas has not been properly taken care of. I guess I don't really blame her. If I didn't have a baby daddy like Ty, I doubt I'd even get the chance to shower, let alone have my hair done. I wonder what Danny 'The Douche' Delphino's done this time.

  “I'm just happy to see you,” she says, turning from me and focusing her attention on Noah. I realize that this is the first time she's ever seen him in person. More tears fall on poor Autumn's head. I haven't met her yet, but I already know what she looks like: copper colored hair starting to peek in, hazel eyes, pale skin and pink cheeks. I would've known that without even looking at the hordes of pictures Beth always sends. Except for poor Noah, the entire family is made up of copper haired clones, father's lineage aside. Only Ty's genes were strong enough to break the pattern. I find myself scoping his ass out and busy myself by getting out a cigarette.

  Beth reaches back and slaps it to the ground without even looking my way.

  “God,” she says, touching my son's cheeks, making kissy-faces at him. “He's even cuter in real life.” She pauses. “Except for the whole pirate thing.” Ty laughs again, but Beth ignores him. She lets him get away with murder. “Noah,” she coos. “Meet your cousin, Autumn. Want to say hi?” Beth lets Noah wrap his fingers around one of hers and makes a little waving motion.

  Ty looks at me over her head and tosses me a self-assured smile. I'm not sure what it's for, but it's sexy as hell. My mind wanders to the tractor in the backyard …

  “This is going to be great,” Beth says, watching as I move around to open the trunk on the car. “Having the kids grow up together. I always wanted the girls to feel what it was like having a big family.”

  “Enormous,” I say, but Beth isn't really listening.

  “Maybe if we can scrape up the money, we could do an extension or something, make things a little more comfortable, a little more permanent.” I give her a look, leaning around the trunk, so she can see how serious I am right now.

  “This is not permanent. This is in-between, Beth.”

  She opens her mouth to speak when a car sounds on the driveway behind us. I don't even need to turn around to know who it is. Noah Scott. I swallow hard and spin.

  Bitch-Never has her head sticking out the front window, tongue lolling. Angelica, who has yet to jump out of the back seat, perks up and starts barking, voice loud and gruff in the still air. Both babies start to cry.

  “Want me to take him inside?” Ty says, but I know what he's really asking. Do you need a moment alone with Noah? The fact that he's even willing to give me that means everything. Ty trusts me not to do anything stupid, and I appreciate that, I really do. I turn to look at him, holding our baby in his arms, ringed fingers wrapped around his midsection. They look so damn cute together. I nod, reaching out to lay my finger's on Autumn's chubby shoulder. Beth smiles.

  “He called and asked if he could come over.” She shrugs and starts to move away, following after Ty.

  “Beth?” I ask, and she pauses to look at me. “Did Zella and Noah ever … did anything ever happen between them?” If it did, Zella won't talk about it, and she answers all my questions about Noah with vague, broad-brush bullshit. Beth just shakes her head.

  “I don't know,” she answers honestly. “Why?”

  “No reason,” I tell her aloud, but inside, there is a reason. I feel responsible for Noah's broken heart, like I snapped it in two and gave one half to Ty. I want him to be happy and somehow, in some weird way, I feel like if he gets with Zella, he'll be a part of my family, and that's something I've always dreamed of in one way or another. I wonder if Ty suspects any of this.

  The sleek, black sedan pulls up next to me with a purr. I reach out a hand to pet Bitch-Never and she bites me, straight up. I slap her in the muzzle and step back with a sigh.

  “Fucking cunt,” I growl as I use my leg to keep Angelica from jumping all over Noah Scott's very pristine, very expensive whatever-the-fuck-it-is.

  “Never!” I hear Noah yelling from inside the cab. The dog retreats inside the vehicle and proceeds to railroad her supposed master, stomping his crotch and exploding out into into the fields around the house. Angelica follows, and I let her go, confident that if I called, she'd come back. Noah emerges next, a little disheveled, an awful lot cute. I smile at him.

  “That dog is almost as ornery as me,” I say, wondering what he thinks about me naming my son after him. I try to decide if I should let him bring it up or if I should take the initiative.

  Noah pauses, blonde hair shifting in the breeze, blue eyes twinkling, and he smiles at me, letting it all out, not holding anything back. His white T-shirt sticks to his body and emphasizes a few changes – since we left, Noah Scott's gotten buff.

  “Never,” he says, slamming his door, watching me watch him. He's absorbing me, appreciating me, but he isn't going to try, not anymore. I know that, and it makes me happy and sad both. Happy because I know he's accepted that Ty and I can never be separated, not without a massive hemorrhage of love and darkness that would kill us both. But also sad because it means he's a great fucking guy who deserves better than I gave him. Goddamn it, Zella, make your fucking move! I vow to call and bitch at her later tonight. “I missed you like crazy,” he says and then he comes over and gives me a hug. It's not as awkward as I thought. Noah feels good, like a friend I've had forever. Maybe not my best friend because that spot is and always Ty McCabe's, but maybe a close second or something, right up there with Lacey Setter who I haven't seen in for-fucking-ever. He pulls back and glances over at the house. Ty is nowhere to be seen. He isn't even spying on us? Is this man for real? “Is little Noah around?” he asks, turning back to me with a grin. “God, I can't e
ven believe you named him after me. I'm honored, I … ” Noah pauses and digs around in the back pocket of his designer jeans, the ones that only further emphasize that metrosexual look he has going on. “I wrote a poem.”

  I laugh and take out the piece of paper he's extended to me. Noah takes a deep breath in and then lets it out.

  “How was New York these last few months?” he asks as my eyes scan the words, absorb the beauty layered in them with awe. Noah Scott is so fucking talented at this shit. If there was any market for poetry, he'd be a millionaire.

  Clandestine beauty revealed in time's extent, born of moths and butterflies./Hearts of broken now repaired, connected first with sanctity and oft forgotten truth./And all the strings that severed, tied together, broken never.

  I fold the page back up and put it in my sweater pocket.

  “It was … a rainbow,” I tell him and he cocks a golden brow. “And I don't mean that it was all sugarplums and kittens, just that it was all different colors. It was good, bad, just everything.” I think for a minute and decide to add something, just in case he got the wrong idea. “I wouldn't have changed it for the world.” Noah smiles softly. “You ready to meet your namesake?” I ask and he grins.

  “I'm actually dying to see him, Never. I always thought you'd make beautiful babies.” I smile back at him, but mine is tinged with sadness. He seems okay, but I can hear the meaning in poor Noah Scott's message. I always thought we'd make beautiful babies. I think he had always planned on marrying me and having a family. When that didn't work out, I guess he just didn't know what to do. He still wants that, but he just doesn't know who to want it with.

  13