A million expressions grace her features before her gaze steels. “You know what?” she says, her hands hitting me in the shoulders, “Fuck you.”
My back hits the doorframe as she presses through. Her touch, even as hateful as it is, still causes a zing through my body that I instantly crave to feel again.
I want to reach out and grab her, kiss her, make her talk to me. By the time I get my wits together, the door is slamming in the kitchen.
ELIN
The beer is bitter and ice cold and tastes kind of like what I think urine would taste like. I’ve never been a beer drinker, but I’ve also never been a pool player. I’ve also never felt as nervous about being at Thoroughbreds as I do tonight.
“Wanna play again?” Jiggs asks, racking the balls. “I’ll take it easier on you this time.”
“No, you won’t,” I laugh. Setting the bottle on the table next to Lindsay, I look at my brother. “But, yeah, rack ’em. Let’s play.”
Lindsay picks the pepperoni off a slice of pizza. “I’m all for you getting out of the house, Elin, but you drinking beer and playing pool has me worried. I don’t even know you right now.”
“Yeah, well, me either.” I pick up the beer and down it and motion for Becca to bring me another. “I figure this is better than sitting at home and drinking alone. That’s what they say, right? Don’t drink alone.”
“So the point tonight is to drink?”
“No. The point of tonight is to get out of the house, but I can’t do that without some liquid courage.”
Lindsay sighs and exchanges a glance with her husband. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Jiggs laughs, his eyes heavy with trouble. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. Elin wants to have some fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But Ty . . .” Lindsay starts and then looks at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and watch chick flicks? Jiggs can go get us junk food and we can just veg out.”
“No,” I insist, my hand flying to my hip. “Like I told you when I called you earlier tonight, I need to stop sitting at home and wallowing. I need to have fun. God knows Ty has been out gallivanting over the fucking country.”
“That’s not true,” Jiggs says, but shuts up when I shoot him a look.
“Whose side you on, brother?”
“Yours,” he sighs, shaking his head.
I spin around to take the new drink from Becca and sway a bit. Grinning, I realize my head is feeling foggy. I like it. It’s quiet. Kind of numb. Why didn’t I do this before?
“Thanks, Becca,” I say brightly, yet even I know my enthusiasm is put on. Still, it sounds better. It sounds like what I want to sound like, so I roll with it. “How you liking your new job?”
“It’s okay,” she quips. “I’ve waited tables all my life, so I knew what I was getting into. The drunk jerks in the front are making my life a little hellish tonight, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Who is it?” Jiggs asks.
She shrugs. “It’s really not a big deal. His name is Shane or something, I think, but don’t worry about it. I need to check on some tables in the back. Find me if you need anything.”
Disappearing in the back, I envy the ease with which she drops into new situations. It’s what I’m trying to do.
This is the first night of the new me. Or the first night on the journey to being the new me, I suppose. This is me getting out there, having fun, doing things on a Saturday night.
This is me trying to do it without having an anxiety attack. I take another swallow.
“You all right, Elin?” Jiggs asks, handing me a pool stick.
“Yup.”
“How many are you going to let her drink, Jiggs?” Lindsay asks from behind us. “She’s on number four.”
“Oh, hush, Linds,” I say, realizing there’s more of a slur to my words than I imagined there would be. “It’s beer. I’m well overage. And while you’re gonna be a mother, you’re not mine. Remember that.”
Jiggs laughs and cracks the cue ball against the others, the sound ricocheting through the little pub. It’s the local hangout, the place everyone lands on the weekends. Everyone from teenagers wanting to play arcade games in the back to fifty-something couples wanting a sandwich or a slice of pizza to the seventy-year-old men rehashing every sporting event of Jackson in the last century—they’re here.
He takes another shot before looking at his wife. “She’s a big girl, and I’m driving her home. Let her get wasted.”
“She’ll be sick tomorrow,” Lindsay objects.
“First of all,” I say, feeling myself sway a little as I try to line up a shot. “I’m right here.” I drag the stick through my fingers and miss the cue ball altogether. “And you have no idea how good this feels.”
“I’ve been drunk before,” Lindsay says. “It’s not going to feel so good in the morning.”
I stand quickly, teetering a little. “Well, here’s the thing. I wasn’t going to be feeling so good tomorrow anyway.”
Lindsay’s face twists in pity and I hate it.
“Hey,” Jiggs says, handing me his stick. His head turns towards a commotion in the front. “Becca mentioned Shane Pettis is up there. I’m going to go check on her. Be right back.” He gives Lindsay a quick kiss on the cheek, his hand resting protectively on her stomach, and walks towards the noise.
“You,” I say, focusing my eyes on Lindsay as warmth starts to build over my skin, “are having a baby.”
She giggles, her eyes lighting up. “I am. I can’t wait to see if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“When are you telling everyone?”
“I want to get out of the first trimester first. We’ve just told you . . . and Ty,” she gulps. “And Cord found out,” she continues in a rush. “But that’s it. We haven’t even told my parents yet.”
“Your mom will be so happy,” I grin. “She won’t be able to stand not having you close to her once you have a baby. I bet she moves back up here from Florida.”
My mind starts to flirt with the idea of what my parents would’ve thought, but I push it out. Not tonight. I’m not doing the what-if’s and what-could-have-been’s.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Lindsay says, her finger drawing a line around the rim of her glass. “If Jiggs can’t get a job here, you know, maybe we’d be better off down there with my mom.”
“What?” I yelp, my hand slamming on the table in front of me way too loud. We both flinch. “You can’t leave me here. Jiggs is the only family I have. Well, and you. And the baby.”
“Shh,” she says, her finger going to her lip.
“You aren’t serious, are you?”
A hand touches my shoulder and I jump, nearly falling over. I’m steadied on my feet by Shane Pettis.
“Who’s not serious?” he asks.
Pulling away from his touch, my lip curls in disgust. “What do you want, Shane?”
He grins in his smarmy way. “How are you, Mrs. Whitt? Or have you taken back the name Watson yet?”
“Go to hell, Shane,” Lindsay fires at him.
He tosses his head back and laughs, his floppy blond hair falling over his forehead. “Easy there, spitfire,” he says to Lindsay. “I was just asking a question. Everyone knows they’re on the outs.”
“Well, that’s none of your business,” I slur.
He studies me closely, but his gaze is too much, too strange, and I close my eyes. Ty’s face tries to squeeze into my mind, but the alcohol helps block it out.
“You’re right. It’s not.” He places a hand on his chest and looks at me sadly. “I wish I knew nothing about your split. It’s just hard to look at you and know what a good girl you are and know, too, that your husband is a drug addict.”
The words, the accusation, is the only thing I hear clear as a bell. My fist clenches around the pool stick until my knuckles turn white.
“He’s not a drug addict, you dick.”
His hands fly in the air in a
defensive move. “Hey, I only know what I heard.”
“You heard wrong,” I spit, staring him down as best as I can with my head wobbling back and forth.
“Why are you defending him? You can do so much better, Elin, than a guy that’s all gimpy and buying pills off my cousin. I heard he was staying across the river with some needle junkie.”
“Shut the hell up, Shane,” I say. The room starts to spin a heavy, slow turn and I reach for the table to steady myself, but can’t find it. I can barely make out Lindsay’s muffled voice to my right.
Shane takes my hand. I’d normally fight against it, but I need the stability. He leads me the few steps to the pool table and I go along, knowing Lindsay and Jiggs are here. His hand finds the curve of my hip, and I push it away in an awkward attempt at keeping him back.
“Leave her alone, Shane,” Lindsay objects from somewhere behind me. “Jiggs will be out here in a minute and will kill you.”
I trip and fall against the table, my hands finding the side and catching me.
“Careful,” he whispers against my ear.
“I got this,” I say. And I’m pretty sure I do. That is, until I look up to the doorway of the patio and see Ty standing there, watching me.
TY
“Well, shit,” Cord mutters beside me.
My blood boils as soon as I see Shane’s face. I can’t stand him. Never could. But seeing him with his hand on her hip—hell, seeing him within breathing distance of Elin is enough to make my head explode.
My eyes lock with my wife’s and I know something’s wrong. She barely reacts to seeing me, just looks at me like she thinks I’m going to disappear if she looks at me long enough.
“She’s drunk,” I say, shaking my head. The movement makes her look away.
“What the hell is she doing?” Cord asks, his hand on my shoulder. I’m sure it’s so he can yank me back if I leap to rearrange Pettis’ face.
“I have no fucking clue.”
Shane Pettis is the asshole that exhibits your typical fuckboy behavior. He’s the guy that will tell your girl you just got your cock sucked by some random chick so your girl might sleep with him in her moment of agony . . . even though your dick has been under lockdown the entire time. It’s rumored that he slips shit into girls’ drinks when they aren’t looking and once had a minor accuse him of trying to fuck her. He, naturally, denied it and there was no proof, so he got off the hook. He’s a pussy, a one hundred percent pathetic excuse for a human being.
Pettis doesn’t see me and I want to keep it that way. Lindsay is sitting behind them, a look of mortification on her face because she knows, as much as I do, that if Elin were clear-minded, she’d never give Pettis the time of day. He came on to her once at the Coal Festival and she gave him such a dressing down right smack dab in the middle of the Cake Walk that he fled the scene.
No, if Elin was sober, this wouldn’t be happening. Not even close.
I nod at Lindsay, letting her know I’m apprised of the situation, and then spot a table in the corner behind a potted tree.
“So, we’re just gonna sit here and drink a beer and watch this bullshit?” Cord asks. “You fucking serious right now, Whitt?”
“Yup.”
Looking around the room, I see Jiggs walking their way. He spies his sister with Pettis and cracks his hands in front of him.
“Seriously, Ty?” Cord asks. “You’re gonna just let this go down?”
Pettis stands a few feet from Elin as she tries to take a shot. She misses terribly, her giggle floating through the pub and to my ears.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s a fourth grade answer.”
He’s right, but I don’t explain. I just want to see what happens. She deserves some space to have a good time, and right now, besides being with Shane Fucking Pettis, there’s nothing I can say.
Elin downs what appears to be an entire bottle of beer. Jiggs says something to her and she tries to poke him in the chest but misses. He grabs her arm and steadies her.
My throat is burning, my hands itching to take the bottle away and shake some sense into her. This isn’t Elin. She’s not a beer drinker or a girl to make a fool out of herself. She’s never been this way.
Pettis slides up to her again, his arm going around her waist as he takes her stick away. He leans them both up against the table and whispers in her ear. She leans her head on his shoulder, her lashes fluttering closed.
“You were right, Cord,” I scoff. My chair screeches as it goes sailing behind me.
“What about?”
“I can’t handle seeing her with another guy.”
I start across the room. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Jiggs stand.
They’re facing away, almost at the door, when I finally reach them. Pettis’ hand is resting on the small of Elin’s back.
Reaching out and wrapping my hand around his forearm, I squeeze as hard as I can and jerk it away from her, my fingers searing into his flesh.
“What the fuck?” he yelps, swinging around to see me. Instead of being smart and correctly reading the situation, he smirks.
He’s always been a dumb motherfucker.
“Hey, Ty. What’s happening, man?”
“Do yourself a favor and head on out of here.” My tone lacks any warmth whatsoever, yet it carries the red-hot fury coursing through my veins.
Elin flinches. “What are you doing, Ty?”
“Saving you a bunch of embarrassment.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she fires back, teetering a little. “He’s taking me home.”
“When you can say that without slurring the words, sweetheart, I’ll believe you.”
Shane laughs and starts to reach for her again. I cut the distance between us in half. Looking down and as far into his eyes as possible, I try to drive home the severity of this situation.
“Touch her again, motherfucker. I dare you,” I growl. “I have no problem with going to jail tonight.”
“Ty!” Elin nearly yells, trying to shove me back. Instead, she falls head first into my chest. The feel of her body against mine, even if it’s on accident, is enough to make me lose my breath for a quick second.
Pettis reaches for her, but stops when he sees my face.
“Get the hell out of here, Pettis,” I snap, lacing my fingers through Elin’s. She tries to pull away, but my grip is too strong.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her eyes filling with tears as she stops to remove her hand from mine. Her shoulders slump, her lips tremble. “What do I look like to you? Some piece of property you own?”
“No,” I say, pulling her to my side. “You look like my wife.”
“I’m not your wife,” she whispers, her eyes struggling to stay open. “Not anymore . . .”
Pettis laughs and turns away. “Have fun with that.” He’s out the door, Cord on his heels, before I can say another word.
“How many beers did she have?” I ask Lindsay.
“Four.”
“And how did you think you were going to handle that?” I ask Elin, shaking my head at her stupidity. The realization of what would be happening to her this very second if I hadn’t walked in makes me want to come undone at the seams. “Do you have any idea what he would’ve done to you? What in the world has gotten into you?”
“Why do you care who or what is getting in me?” she asks, yawning.
I grit my teeth, trying to contain my temper. “Careful, E.”
“Just leave me alone.”
“I’m not leaving you like this?”
“Why? That’s what you’re best at.”
“We can discuss this when we get you home, if you’d like,” I growl.
Her eyes pop open. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Try again.” I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, kicking the door open with my boot. “Hey, Becca!” I call over Elin’s objections. She looks up from the
table she’s serving and takes in the situation and laughs. “Put whatever she had on my tab, okay?”
She flashes me a thumbs up and I pause to look at Jiggs. The lines on his face are severe as he braces in anticipation of me going berserk.
“We will discuss this later, Watson,” I promise him through gritted teeth.
Elin pounds on my back as I carry her out the door.
TY
The truck rumbles as I steer it off the highway and onto the gravel road. The cab is completely still, the only light coming from the glow of the dash as we get further into the country.
There are no other cars on the road. That’s a good thing because I can’t keep my eyes off the passenger seat. Elin sits with her head resting on the window, her eyes closed.
Her breathing is even, peaceful, and I try to match mine to hers. If I closed my eyes, I could convince myself we are home in bed. But we aren’t, and my brain knows that, and it’s a complete internal fight not to pull the truck to the shoulder of the road and pull her into my arms.
The part of me that has been agitated for months is now soothed. Just being in the car with her is a balm to the wound that’s been seeping since before I walked out on her. She centers me, stills me, and I wonder how in the hell I let things get so out of control.
Elin mumbles something I can’t understand. Her face twists sourly as whatever she’s dreaming plays out in her mind and I wonder if she is realizing she’s with me.
As much as I hate that I’m with her because of this, I can’t think of another place I’d rather be. I push away the uncertainty of how to handle this situation once I get her home and instead revel in the feeling of being next to her . . . even if she was seconds away from being with Pettis tonight.
I can’t imagine another man touching her, feeling her, knowing her in a way that only I do. My skin crawls, my blood reaching a boiling point. My palm smacks off the steering wheel, making Elin jump.
“Ty?” she asks, trying to sit up. Her hand goes to her forehead, wincing. She looks at me with utter confusion, leaning away against the door.
Written in the Scars Page 5
