Written in the Scars

by Adriana Locke

  My chest heaves as the weight of his words falls on me. I had no idea things were this serious with him. A part of me wants to hold him, to ask him why, and another part of me wants to slap him for being so stupid.

  More than ever, I’m looking at a man that, on the surface, I know better than anyone. But do I even know him at all?

  “How do I know you won’t do that again?” I ask. “Do you want pills now?”

  He smiles the most honest grin I’ve seen since he’s been back. “I have no interest. I only want you.”

  My mind reels. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you let me help you?”

  “That’s why I left, so maybe there would be some hope that we could fix this. That I could fix this. There was no way I could let you see me like that. It would taint you.”

  “It still tainted me. It ruined our marriage.”

  His features harden again. “Our marriage is not ruined.”

  “There’s no way to fix this, Ty. Not like you want. Not like I’d want. I don’t even know you. I mean, drugs, Ty?”

  “I’m clean. I swear to God. I wasn’t an addict or something, just starting down that road, but thank fuck I caught it. Or maybe you caught it by catching me. I don’t know,” he sighs. “I’ll fix this, Elin.”

  “How do you think you’re going to fix the damage you caused when you don’t even know what that all entails?”

  “Tell me,” he says earnestly.

  I shake my head.

  His eyes cloud, his voice wavering. “I need you, Elin.”

  Looking down the hall, my chest tightens. I remember sitting in the bathroom that’s not fifteen steps from where we are, watching the toilet water turn pink after my doctor’s appointment. Feeling a part of me leave my body, a part of my heart ripping away.

  I look at Ty. “Yeah, well, I needed you too.”

  TY

  Pain is streaked across her face, her anguish on display for the world, for me, to see.

  I can’t take it.

  If there’s one thing in this world I’ve wanted more than any other, it’s Elin Watson. From the moment I saw her at her locker, her body in a pair of jean shorts and a yellow top that fell off her right shoulder nibbling on a red sucker, I had to have her.

  And I finally got her. I promised to take care of her, protect her, love her. Standing here, seeing the fallout from not doing those things destroys me from the inside out.

  She watches me from across the room.

  “Do you remember the first day I kissed you?” I ask, watching her face soften as the memory pops in her head. “I’d wanted to kiss you for days, but I was afraid to push too hard.”

  “I remember Lindsay telling me to be careful around you. That all the girls liked you and you were a player,” she remembers.

  “All the girls did like me,” I say, trying to bring her back to me. Trying to remind her that I’m the kid she fell in love with. “But I liked you.”

  “Everyone said it was just because I was the new girl,” she says.

  “Well, I’ve known you for a long damn time, and I want you more today than I did that day in the hallway outside of math lab.”

  She looks out the window, a faint smile on her lips. “I told you no the first time you asked me out. Everyone knew you around town, everyone liked you. It was overwhelming.”

  “It doesn’t help that on your first day, I kind of stalked you, huh?”

  Elin starts to come around. The tension eases from her face, the lines weaken around her eyes as a hint of the sparkle comes back. “When you made Pettis get up from beside me at lunch, I was scared to death. I couldn’t figure out what you wanted from me.”

  “I think we both know what I wanted from you,” I wink. “Your ass in those shorts . . .”

  She laughs, the sound music to my ears. “You ended up getting it.”

  Taking a step closer to her, she doesn’t move away. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s a small victory I’m too happy to take. “Do you know what I want from you now?”

  “Ty . . .”

  “I just want my wife back, E. I want my life back.”

  “You can’t just have it back,” she whispers. “Things were burned.” She looks at me through her thick lashes. “I was burned.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She blows out a breath and glances quickly down the hallway. Swallowing roughly, she hesitates a long moment. When she looks at me again, something has changed. Her bottom lip quivers, her brows pull together in a concerted effort to maybe hold herself together.

  “I could’ve helped you, Tyler. If you would’ve told me how you felt, what you were going through, we could’ve fixed it. But you didn’t trust me, and I can’t . . .”

  Tears well up again and I reach for her. My heart cracking in my chest, she bats my hands away.

  “Stop,” she says, her voice void of any strength.

  “You want me to stand here and watch you cry and not want to comfort you?”

  Smiling through the tears, she breaks my heart even more. “You can go, and I’ll cry by myself. I’ve gotten pretty good at it lately.”

  “Damn it, Elin. What do we have if we don’t have each other? Everything we’ve ever wanted—every dream, hope, every idea of a family and a future—are tied together. You can’t just walk away from that.”

  “I didn’t,” she says, finally breaking her silence. “You did.”

  “I did not. I walked away to protect you.”

  “Funny, I’m walking away to protect me too.”

  Her voice cracks, and I don’t care anymore. I grab her and pull her into me, and she, surprisingly, lets me.

  She doesn’t make an effort to embrace me, but I don’t care. I just hold her for dear life.

  “Our future is in front of us,” I whisper, brushing the hair off her shoulder. “We can figure this out. I’ll get a new job, which you’ll love, because I know you hated the mine, and we can start a family.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I can’t wait to see your belly swollen with my baby.”

  Her body shakes. I rub my hands down her back, not sure if she’s laughing or crying.

  “We’ll paint the nursery and stay up late trying to figure out how to put together the bed and all the baby—”

  “Stop,” she begs, her head buried in my shirt. “Please. Stop.”

  Squeezing her tighter, I feel her emotionally backing away from me. She’s building some sort of barrier to keep me out, and I have to figure out how to tear it down quick.

  “I swear to you, I’ll be everything you need. I’ll—”

  She pulls back, her lips forming a thin line. “You were always everything I needed,” she says quietly. “I can’t imagine being with another man.”

  “It’s a good fucking thing, because you won’t be with another man,” I point out. “I’ll kill him.”

  “You aren’t the problem, Ty. It’s just . . .” She struggles, looking at the floor.

  She’s all over the place tonight, both physically and mentally, and I can’t figure out what’s causing all of this vacillating. One minute she’s in my arms and the next she’s telling me she wants me to leave and never come back.

  What the fuck?

  A sick feeling crawls through my veins. “I think there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

  She gulps and turns her back on me, walking into the kitchen. I follow.

  “Elin?”

  “You need to go,” she says, her voice steady.

  “I need to find out what in the hell happened while I was gone.”

  She pops open the back door and leans against it. She looks at me with no feeling, void of any sadness, anger . . . or love. “Doesn’t matter, Ty.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I scoff at her blatant lie. Her eyes go wide as I stand tall in front of her, the next words out of my mouth ones I don’t want to say, yet I have to. “You weren’t with someone else were you?”

  “God, no!” she says, shocked. It’s o
bvious the idea is new to her, and that has me sighing in relief.

  “Thank fuck.”

  “Go, please, before I call Jiggs.”

  “What’s he gonna do?” I chuckle.

  She doesn’t flinch. “Go, Ty.”

  My blood starts to boil, my fists curling at my sides. If she thinks this is over just like that, she’s out of her damn mind.

  Her gaze is fire, her sadness turned to fury. I feel the fight begin, the switch we are all too familiar with.

  “This isn’t over, you know that, right?” I say, heading to the door. “I’m just leaving so we don’t get into some huge argument and say things we can’t take back.”

  She watches me hit the threshold, and I pause, waiting for her to change her mind. She doesn’t.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say, watching her eyes widen.

  “Don’t,” she whispers. “I’ll file papers when I get the—”

  My laugh cuts her off. Bending down so we’re eye to eye, I make things crystal clear. “I won’t be signing any fucking papers, Elin. Ever.”

  She sucks in a hasty breath, and I give her time to process my words.

  “You are mine. You will always be mine,” I tell her. “Get that through your beautiful fucking head.”

  “Leave,” she says, on the cusp of crying.

  “I’m leaving, but get one thing straight,” I warn. “I’m leaving this house because you asked me to and because whatever comes out of my mouth from here on out isn’t going to do either of us any good.” I clear my throat, trying to get the rest of the words out over the lump lodged there. “I’m leaving the house, E. I’m not leaving you. And I will be back.”

  ELIN

  The door groans as my husband walks out. I hold my breath, half hoping he bursts back in, half hoping I hear his truck start.

  In a few moments, the latter happens and I exhale. It’s shaky, wobbly, and I try to stay as quiet as possible as I listen to him back down the driveway and take off down the street.

  Glancing around the room, his energy is still here. Although I told him to go, although he needed to go because him staying here would only make things harder in the long run, I miss him immediately.

  My skin still sings from his touch. His cologne lingers on my shirt, the air kissed by his presence. This is going to be much, much harder than I even thought.

  My phone chirps beside me and I pick it up.

  “Hey,” I say, clearing my throat.

  “Hey, Elin. It’s Cord.”

  I smile at the sound of my friend’s voice. “What’s up?”

  “I was with Ty when he heard what Pettis had to say. I figured I’d drive by and see if he was there. You know, make sure he’s not going to get arrested tonight or anything,” he says as lightly as he can. “I saw him just pull out of your driveway but he won’t answer his cell.”

  Gulping back a sob, I don’t know what to say. “Ty’s fine.”

  “How are you?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “I’m in front of your house. Do you want me to stop?”

  His headlights shine through the living room window and instant relief washes over me. “Yeah, why don’t you?”

  The call ends and within a few seconds, he raps on the front door. I venture to the living room and let him in.

  Cord steps inside, wearing a pair of dark denim jeans, a white t-shirt, and a brown fleece jacket. He looks like the requisite boy-next-door with his clean cut good looks and simple, easy nature. “How are you?” he asks, shrugging off his flannel jacket. “Damn, it’s hot in here.”

  “I keep it warm,” I say, glancing at the thermostat. “Ty always kept it cooler . . .”

  My eyes wet at the sound of his name. I remember all the arguments we’d have over the thermostat, how one of us would change it and the other would change it right back. It was really one of the only things we just couldn’t agree on.

  Cord watches me carefully. “Did you really file for divorce today?”

  I slump on the sofa. “No. I just went to see how to do it.”

  “That’s pretty big,” he comments, sitting in the chair across the room. “Did you mean it?”

  “I did it, didn’t I?”

  “That doesn’t mean you wanted to.”

  My head in my hands, I feel a bone-crushing exhaustion settle in.

  “I’m going to be honest,” Cord says, interrupting my thoughts. “You don’t look like a woman that just did something she believes in.”

  “I did what I had to do, Cord.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

  “What in the world do you know about my marriage? How do you know what I did or didn’t have to do?” I ask, annoyed.

  “Because no one has a gun pointed to your head telling you to talk to an attorney or they’re pulling the trigger,” he says, completely unaffected by the look I’m shooting him. “You saw someone about a divorce. That’s no small thing.”

  “No shit,” I mock, shaking my head.

  Cord sighs and sits back in the chair. “I hate this.”

  “Yeah, well, join the crowd.”

  His brows shoot to the ceiling.

  “Of course I hate this,” I whisper, flopping back against the cushions. “Do you think this was the way I saw my life going?”

  “Then let’s hold up here and figure out a way around it.”

  “There is no way around it, Cord,” I snip.

  The corner of his lip turns up and he narrows his eyes. “Then you aren’t the lady I thought you were.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugs. “I gave you way too much credit, Elin.”

  “What?” I lean up, flabbergasted. “You gave me too much credit? Fuck you, Cord.”

  He laughs and that only makes me madder.

  “So I’m the bad guy in this?” I fire. “Somehow I’m the asshole because I want to know my options? Ty can take the liberty to do whatever the hell he wants while I’m here losing our b—”

  I clamp my mouth shut right before spilling my secret. A storm rolls across his features as his eyes draw to my hands on my stomach and then back up to me.

  “Don’t,” I war, my voice teetering as I await his response.

  He exhales, the breath whistling between his teeth. “Things are starting to get a little clearer.”

  “I’m happy for you. Now you can go and take all that extra credit you threw my way with you. And keep your mouth shut about . . . whatever it is you think you’ve figured out,” I warn as angrily as I can, shoving my hands in my pockets and away from my stomach.

  He doesn’t move, just watches me. “I still think I gave you too much credit,” he says finally.

  My arms fly in the air. “Cord, I’m about two seconds from punching you in the face.”

  “Thank you,” he snickers. “You just proved my point.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “You are a fighter,” he says, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Always have been. Do you remember the time Gabrielle Donaldson got suspended for fighting back when that new girl jumped her in the hallway? And then three days later, the center for the basketball team got into a fight and didn’t get shit because it was Sectional week?”

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “I went to the office and called bullshit. I about got myself suspended over that. Principal Mackey is an idiot. It’s why I give him hell now with the boys. Payback.”

  “Exactly. You’ve always been the person to go to bat for someone when you feel something’s not right. You do it for the kids in the school, you went to Mackey this year when James got in trouble, remember that?”

  I nod, not seeing where this is heading. “Cut to the chase.”

  “Look, you fight for everyone and everything. Why aren’t you fighting for your marriage?”

  “Don’t even come at me with that!” I shout, rising up off the couch.

  “I’m coming at you with this because it’s what you need to hear, darlin’.”

&
nbsp; “You have no idea what I need to hear!” My blood soars past my ears, my jaw clenching so hard it hurts. “You can’t come in here and tell me what I should do or how I should feel. You don’t know what I’ve been through!”

  I can’t look him in the eye and see the pity. The weight of his stare is enough to let me know that he does know, or has a very good idea, of what I’ve been through.

  Cord is standing in front of me, drawing me to his chest before I know it. His hug is simple, a platonic act that I need more than I even realized. When he pulls back and smiles at me, I’m a little steadier.

  “I’m not judging you,” he says, his rich voice soft. “I’m just telling you that you should’ve trusted your gut.”

  “How do you know what my gut says?”

  “Will you stop answering me with questions?” he chuckles. “Elin . . .”

  He walks in a circle before stopping by the entertainment center. He lifts a framed photograph of all of us—me, him, Ty, Jiggs, and Lindsay—a couple of weeks after graduation. We are at the lake, huge smiles and peace signs flipped up for the camera.

  “I know how easy it is to get drawn into your head,” he says. “It’s easy as hell to sit around and think about everything that’s wrong and think of a way out because you’re desperate for the pain to end.”

  He looks at me again, his eyes somber. “Graduation was hard on me. Everyone was so happy, planning their lives, you know?” He forces a swallow, his hand holding the photograph dropping to his side. He twists it back and forth and back again. “I just kept thinking how I was officially on my own.”

  “Cord, that wasn’t true,” I say hurriedly.

  “No, it was. My foster parents made it clear they were taking on another kid and I needed to find a place to go. They didn’t get the check from the state after that and they needed that income. I get it, I mean, that was their job, but I had a week to find a way to take care of myself.”

  “Fostering a child shouldn’t be a job,” I say, my heart rate spiking. “You should take a child in because you love them. Not for a paycheck.”

  His shoulders rise and drop. “It was what it was. I don’t know why I thought they’d be there after that. I guess because I was with them the longest out of all the foster homes I was in. It was my mistake.”