Written in the Scars

by Adriana Locke

  It took everything I had to make the call this morning, including vomiting my breakfast in the toilet first. But it had to be done. I need to see what options there are and what I can afford.

  Lindsay watches my hand tremble as I pick up my drink and refuse to look her in the eye.

  “Elin?”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “With?”

  “Eric Parker.”

  Her hand flies to her mouth and she pulls me to her with the other. I push away because hugging my best friend before I do the deed will inevitably have me walking in the attorney’s office with wet cheeks.

  “Why, Elin? Did something happen?”

  “I’m just going in to see what my options are. I probably can’t afford to file anything anyway.”

  “Jiggs said—”

  “I don’t care what my brother said,” I say, turning towards the door. She follows behind me, her hand on my shoulder. “Do you know how mentally fucked up this is making me?”

  “I can’t imagine,” she whispers.

  “It’s like a special form of torture and the longer I let it go, the murkier it’s going to get.”

  “I get that, but . . .”

  A sob roots itself at the base of my throat. When I look at her, the tears blur her face. “He’s going to break my heart. I know it,” I sniffle, trying desperately to compose myself. I shake my head, warning her not to try to hug me. “We can have sex, but we can’t talk. He tried to talk, but I don’t want to hear what he has to say.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m too weak, Linds. What if I just break and then things go bad and I’m back to square one?”

  “You don’t know that is what will happen,” she implores.

  “You’re right. But I need to know my options. I need to feel like there’s a plan, some way out if I choose to listen to him and it doesn’t work out. Right now, I’m just in this never-ending swirl of confusion and I can’t do it anymore. I need something to ground me that isn’t related to him.”

  “Well, I disagree with this. For the record.”

  “Noted.”

  Pulling the door open, the light makes me squint. Lindsay’s lip quivers, and I have to look away before my walls collapse and I’m a heaping mess on the sidewalk.

  “I need to go or I’m going to be late,” I tell her.

  Sighing, Lindsay walks the two doors down the sidewalk to Blown and disappears inside. I remember hanging out in there with her, planning dinners and nights out with our guys, like my world was untouchable. How foolish.

  I’d give anything to close my eyes and be transported six months back. To walking in the house and having Ty there, the kitchen a mess from his attempt at fixing lunch, the television on entirely too loud.

  “Stop,” I mutter to myself, turning abruptly to head to my car. I jump when I almost collide with a hard body.

  “Mrs. Whitt, I’m sorry!” Dustin Montgomery is standing in front of me, a wide grin on his face. His brown hair is cut short, his blue eyes shining.

  “It’s fine, Dustin. I think I ran into you,” I laugh.

  “How are you?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. “How’s Coach?”

  Pasting on a smile to hide my uncertainty, I deflect. “I’m good, thank you. Why are you not in school?”

  “I skipped a day,” he winces.

  “Dustin . . .”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

  I can’t help the smile on my face. Dustin is one of Ty’s favorite kids, a boy reminiscent of a younger Cord. He is a child of foster care, a kid that does the best he can. Ty picks him up a lot and gets him to practices, and I fix a bag of food for him a lot of nights so he has something to eat after school before practice.

  Dustin’s a good kid, and I know he loves Ty as much as Ty loves him, and it breaks my heart that he feels as abandoned by my husband as I do.

  He furrows his brow, his face sobering. “We all miss Coach, Mrs. Whitt. Is he okay? Is he coming back? Jason said he saw his truck at the gas station yesterday. I said it couldn’t be him because if he was back, he’d have been at practice.” He forces a swallow. “He would’ve called me. Right?”

  My chest aches for him. “He just got back. I’m sure he’ll be by to see you soon.” I feel like a jerk for leading him on when I don’t know what Ty’s plans really are. “But you have to remember, he’s not your coach anymo—”

  “He’ll always be our coach,” he says with so much certainty it makes me feel like I’m being reprimanded. “You tell him,” he swears, bending forward so his eyes bore into mine, “that we want him back. At least to see him, know he’s okay. Tell him to come by practice. Okay? Tell him to call me, Mrs. Whitt.”

  “Okay. I will,” I whisper, my heart tugging in my chest.

  He flashes me a concerned smile before turning towards the Fountain.

  “Hey, Dustin!” I call out.

  He turns to face me. “Yeah?”

  “Here.” I fish through my purse and pull out a twenty-dollar bill. “Get a sandwich before practice.”

  Hesitating before reaching for the money, I can tell he doesn’t want to accept it. He never does.

  “Take it,” I say, smiling. “Have Ruby make you a double cheeseburger. She’s bored in there today anyway. You’ll thrill her to death.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Whitt.” He reaches for the money, his eyes softening. “I’ll do that. But the burger won’t be as good as yours.”

  Shaking my head, I adjust my purse on my shoulder. “If you need anything this week, you know how to get ahold of me. I mean that.”

  “And if you need anything at all, call me. You’ve always . . .” His cheeks flush and he looks down the street for a long second before turning back to me. “You’ve always been good to me. Anything you need, Mrs. Whitt, I’m happy to help out however.”

  “Thank you, Dustin,” I say, biting my bottom lip so the physical pain weighs heavier than my emotions.

  He watches me carefully, trying to decide if I’m okay. Once he seems satisfied, he heads inside The Fountain and I head into Attorney Parker’s office a few doors down.

  TY

  Pulling off my blue hooded sweatshirt, I toss it into the truck before slamming the door behind me.

  “Ball!” I yell out, and a few moments later, the basketball is in my hands. I step onto the court and launch the ball from half-court. It drains through the net. Grinning at Jiggs and Cord, I laugh, “Still got it.”

  Jiggs rebounds the ball and passes it to me again. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “And why is that?” I pull up and drop another through the hoop.

  “I was hoping you’d be at the high school.”

  I let out a long breath. “I’m actually going to head over there in a bit.”

  “You are full of surprises today, Whitt,” Jiggs says, whistling through his teeth.

  “Yeah, I called Reynolds this morning and asked if he’d care if I came by tonight.”

  “He isn’t gonna care,” Cord laughs, stealing the ball from Jiggs. “That’s your team.”

  It is my team, to me anyway. It always will be. I’ve watched most of these kids come up from elementary school, participating in the kiddie clinics and summer camps. They’ve grown from toothless faces to men ready to strike out on their own and I feel a vested interest in making sure that happens.

  Besides my life with Elin, there’s nowhere else I love to be more than with the team. Resigning felt like the right thing to do. I couldn’t walk without a fucking limp, couldn’t show them how to do the skills I needed to teach them. Not being able to give them one-hundred percent wasn’t acceptable and admitting that in front of them, letting them see me broken, wasn’t tolerable either. So, I tucked tail and ran.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Jiggs says, “I’m glad you’re going. But what changed? The last time I talked to you the question of you going back to coaching was up in the air.”

  Elin’s face darts through my
mind, the taste of her lips against mine. The feeling of her body wrapped up against me.

  Everything was launched into perspective. Even though I don’t have answers on how to work everything out, I know there’s no other option, no matter how long it takes or how hard it is.

  “I saw Elin last night,” I say simply.

  “So you got some pussy?” Cord grins.

  “We aren’t going to talk about fucking my sister,” Jiggs interjects, throwing up a shot. “I have limits, assholes.”

  Laughing, I rebound the ball and press it against my hip. “I had relations with my wife.” Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Jiggs’ eye. “Sound better?”

  “Can we just say you talked to her? I can read between the lines.”

  Chuckling, I pass the ball to Cord. “But I didn’t talk to her. Not yet.”

  “Ah, so you just got down to the point—”

  “Shut. Up. Cord,” Jiggs grimaces.

  “I’m gonna deal with the boys first. Apologize for bailing like I did, maybe see if Reynolds needs a hand this season. Then I’ll go see my wife.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Cord says. “I like it.”

  Jiggs turns to look at me. “I like it too.”

  “I expect her to be pissed and for this to take some time, but she’s ready to work this out. I mean, she made me leave last night after we talked,” I smirk. “And that’s fine. I can handle that. I feel good about it today. Clear.”

  Cord’s face lights up. “It’s about fucking time.”

  “I—”

  The sound of gravel crunching behind me cuts me off. We all look to the entrance of the park to see Pettis’ car pulling in.

  “What the fuck does he want?” I spit.

  “His rights terminated, maybe,” Cord laughs, an anger palpable in his tone. “Hopefully.”

  Pettis gets out of the car.

  I’ve hated this fucker since high school. He’s a year older than me. When I took the starting point guard position on the basketball team away from him my freshman year, things got heated. When Elin chose me over him, things got worse. They never recovered.

  The chip on his shoulder has my name on it. We’ve gone head-to-head on just about everything, even our jobs in the mine. Seeing him pull up with that look on his face sends me into high alert. This look is one I’ve seen a million times over the years and it never—never—ends well.

  “Hey, guys. Need another player?” he asks cheerfully.

  “You can’t be fucking serious,” Jiggs laughs.

  Pettis makes a face like Jiggs is crazy. “You’re an odd number. We can go two-on-two.”

  “The only two-on-two that will happen around here if you don’t leave is two fists hitting you in the face,” Cord promises.

  Pettis laughs and steps up to the court. “How are ya, Whitt?”

  I eye him carefully. There’s nothing pleasant or coincidental about this run-in. While I’d really like to just dribble his face down the asphalt after the incident at Thoroughbreds, for some strange reason, I want to hear what he has to say.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Pettis says, sighing dramatically. “I’m sorry. You know, not everything is meant to be. Just keep your chin up and you’ll find—”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Jiggs asks, walking so that his shoulders are lined with mine and Cord’s.

  Pettis flinches like he’s caught off guard. “What do you mean?” His eyes grow unnaturally wide, putting on a show for me and my friends. His hands come up in front of him in some form of defense.

  His sight is set straight on me. He makes sure I’m paying attention, a smirk hidden beneath his false surprise.

  My alert mode flips straight into kill mode. Although the source of this little meet-and-greet is still unknown, what I do know is that it’s going to end with me wanting to end him. Period.

  Cord knows it too because I feel his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. Reminding me he’s there and if I need help ending Pettis, he’s more than willing.

  “Shut the fuck up, Pettis, and get to the part where you say whatever it is you showed up here to say or fucking beat it,” Cord says.

  “Easy there, McCurry,” Pettis says, realizing just how precarious his situation might be. “I didn’t realize y’all didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know what?” Jiggs asks. He flashes me a look, apologizing for asking because it is, in a way, feeding the troll. But he wants to know. We all do.

  Pettis looks right at me, the smirk playing on his lips.

  My blood runs cold, my breath hanging in the air, as I wait to see what bomb he’s going to drop on me. Because he is. He’s too geared up for it not to be.

  “That Elin filed for divorce today.”

  Pettis says the words so carefully, so clearly, then watches for the wound to open where his words cut me. He’s smart enough to take a step back as I process his declaration.

  Although I don’t think it’s true, not after last night, I can’t help but feel the rug slip just a little beneath me. My world spins, my voice escaping me as the thought—what if it’s true?—hits me.

  “She did not,” Jiggs says, laughing in disbelief. “Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass and don’t you ever, ever, go near my sister, you piece of fucking shit. You hear me?”

  Pettis shrugs, still watching me. “I’ll leave. Just wanted to give you my condolences. I offered her mine as she came out of Parker’s office today. I might go by there tonight and see if she needs a friend.”

  Cord shoves me backward as he charges forward. Pettis scrambles to his car and locks the door, Cord and Jiggs on his heels. He starts the engine, his eyes now wide for a completely different reason.

  “I will personally see that you feel pain for every cocksucking thing you’ve ever done!” Cord steps back as Pettis slams the car into drive and slides down the driveway and up the access road.

  I feel nothing—no rage, no anger, no fear.

  My friends are talking around me. I hear a basketball being tossed into the back of a truck. I sense movement, feel someone bump me, but I don’t move. I’m afraid to snap out of this haze because I’ll have to process everything, consider that there might be some truth to his accusations.

  But it can’t be true.

  She wouldn’t. Not after last night.

  My shoulder is hit again and I look up and into Jiggs’ face.

  “Did she?” I ask point blank.

  “Ty, if she did, I didn’t know.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry either way. If she didn’t, then Pettis just signed his death warrant. But if she did . . .”

  My wedding ring catches the late afternoon sunlight. It shines in the light, reminding me of the day Elin placed it on my finger.

  “I’ll love you, for better or worse, ’til death do us part.”

  The chill that arrived with Pettis leaves me with his departure. Instead, a red-hot flame starts in my gut and burns every fiber of my body as it rolls through me. There’s no way this is happening.

  “What are you gonna do?” Jiggs asks.

  Considering his question for a half a second, I turn my back to him as I storm to my truck.

  “Ty?” Cord asks, leaning against the side of his truck.

  “Hey, Cord,” I shout, swinging my door open. “If I get hemmed up tonight, you’ll bail me out, right? Because if I see Elin and this isn’t true, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

  “I got you.”

  ELIN

  I hold it together through the appointment, to my car, and on the drive home.

  Radio off, ignoring the envelope next to me that lays as heavily on my mind as it does the leather passenger seat, I keep my vision trained on the road ahead. The bright white envelope is full of papers that, if I fill them out, would officially end my marriage.

  There should be relief in that, in knowing my options. But there’s no relief in this. Really, how could there be? It’s not a choice I want to make, b
ut one that feels like the only possibility available.

  I don’t trust him. My respect level is barely hanging on. There’s no loyalty between us, not anymore. How can he even understand loyalty if he would leave me and the boys like he did?

  If I were dating him, I’d end things. Granted, I wouldn’t’ve loved him like I do if that were the case. But when you’re in a hole this deep, is love a big enough ladder to climb out? It certainly doesn’t seem so.

  Piloting the car onto my street, I focus on staying between the lines through the blur. Pressing harder on the accelerator, I rush to make the last few miles before the tears start. The harder I try to focus and block them out, the stronger the dampness gets in the corner of my eyes. The bridge of my nose is swollen with that tickle you get right before you start to topple over the edge.

  Everything is spinning. I’m starting to lose control. Emotions take over, writhing inside me, and that panics me even more.

  My breaths turn into quick hiccups as I glance into the rearview mirror and see a familiar truck. It’s passing a car a few hundred feet back and I watch it fly into my lane and hover a few car lengths behind me.

  Hands trembling around the steering wheel, a small gasp escapes my lips. I flick my eyes forward as he approaches close enough for me to see his face. Whatever composure I have now will be obsolete if I somehow meet Ty’s eyes in the rearview.

  Maybe I’m too tired to think clearly, maybe I just want to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible, maybe I just feel too scattered and afraid either way, but against my better judgement, I pull into the driveway.

  The recklessness of his driving, the aggression I can feel ripple off of him—even being in different vehicles—is telling.

  He knows.

  He knows where I’ve been.

  It’s terrifying and a relief all in one swift, blazing swoop. It’s enough of a shock to press the tears away, my body going into some kind of fight or flight mode because I can’t predict his behavior. That’s a part of why we’re in this damn situation anyway. I don’t know him anymore.

  Breathe, Elin.

  Just as I suspect, Ty’s truck inches in behind me, its bumper almost kissing mine. He’s out of the truck before I even turn off my car. I see the ferocity in his eyes in my side mirror, his jaw ticking as he gets closer.