Written in the Scars (14 page)

“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, but 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.

I grab my coat and toss it over the envelope, like somehow that piece of fabric is going to protect my decision, make it easier to get through these next few minutes.

My door is jilted open and he stands in front of me, scowling. His eyes are narrowed, his body rippling in his jeans and long-sleeved, charcoal-colored thermal shirt that clings to his body.

I step gingerly out of the car, my gaze trained on the gravel beneath his grey and blue sneakers, and he slams it behind me before taking a step back. I’m not sure if it’s for his benefit or mine.

I keep walking. Head down, shoulders pressed forward, heart thumping away, I stride as quickly as I can up the walkway and to the back door. I listen for his steps but hear none.

My mouth is dry, my nerves dancing with overstimulation as I realize I’ve forgotten my purse in the car. My stomach stinks as I try to figure out if I can get in through a window or if I can just sit on the back porch until he leaves because there is no way I’m walking back there.