He shrugs, a faint frown tickling across his lips. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, we’re gonna get blown away if we stand here much longer.” He claps me on the shoulder and heads inside. “I’ll pick up some frozen pizzas and cold beer. How’s that sound for dinner?”
“Good as anything.” I climb in my truck and back out of the parking lot. The wind shoves me all over the road, the sun now hidden behind a steely set of clouds that move so quickly across the sky it’s like they’re on fast forward. “Shit,” I say, dodging a tree limb that flies in front of me as rain begins to pelt my windshield.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a severe weather warning encouraging everyone to take shelter. As my truck is pushed into the other lane by a crazy gust of wind, I make a quick right and head towards Cord’s.
ELIN
Alcohol helps you make bad decisions.
Nearly twenty-four hours after my little drinking party, I’m still making them hand-over-fist.
Curled up on my bed, e-reader to my right, phone to my left, I have blankets tucked around me. A candle flickers on my nightstand just in case the power, which is blinking like a disco ball because of the storm, goes out. And on my body, all soft and wrinkled, is Ty’s old Tennessee Arrows t-shirt.
Not once since he left have I done this. There hasn’t been a single instance where I’ve become that girl, the one that wraps herself in his clothes and tries to find the scent of his cologne buried somewhere in the fibers of the fabric. I’ve managed to maintain my dignity, never stooping to that level. Until tonight.
I blame it on the alcohol.
I’m hungover, both on the beer and on the emotions of the day. Time had granted me the small luxury of choice and I chose anger. It was the easiest to handle. But after seeing him three times in as many days and having to deal with him seeing me and touching me and God knows what else, things I still can’t remember, it’s like a hurricane came in and whipped all my feelings together, spilling them into one giant, confusing heap.
His shirt helps. I don’t know why, but it does, and even more disturbing is that I don’t feel weak because of it. Maybe it’s because I made the choice to put it on. I wasn’t crying when I did it. I wasn’t grieving or praying for some kind of direction from the man upstairs. It was a very calm moment after my shower and I saw it hanging in the back of the closet.
My biggest fear is letting my feelings get so mixed up by remembering who we used to be together and not who we are now. The thought of living with him and fighting like we did is unbearable. It’s not us and not the way either of us should want to live, and I’m afraid if I don’t stop this, once and for all, we’ll find ourselves in that very same place. And I can’t handle going through this again.
Thunder cracks outside my bedroom window, making me jump. I snuggle deeper into the pillows and clutch my phone for good measure, wondering why the worst storms happen after midnight.
Storms have always made me feel like a child. I hate the darkness, the unpredictability of the danger associated with them this time of year. I used to stay awake until Ty would come home from work if a storm was particularly bad. We would joke about what would happen when we had a baby and I had to be the grown up.
My heart sinks in my stomach.
Another clap of thunder rings through the air and I shudder. It lasts for a long few seconds and ends with the sound of the back door being rattled.
“Don’t even,” I mutter, swiping a tissue off the nightstand and dabbing it against my eyes. “Don’t mess with me tonight, Mother Nature.”
The rapping sound rolls through the house again in the midst of the tree limbs scratching at the window. Hearing it again, it sounds intentional. Deliberate.
I pull Jiggs’ number up on my phone and uncurl my legs from the blankets. Drawing in a quick breath, I drop my feet to the floor.
The windowsill shakes as the wind assaults it, rocking the old farmhouse to its roots.
The floor is cold against my bare feet as I slip through the room, my thumb hovering over the call button. My breathing echoes off the walls of the hallway, my senses on high alert. Listening closely, I try to hear the knocking sound again but all I can make out is the howling wind.
I round the corner and scream, dropping my phone.
“Elin! It’s me!”
My hand searches frantically for the light switch, and when I finally find it and flip it on, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Ty is standing in front of me. His grey t-shirt is soaked all the way through, his jeans pressed against his body from the rain. His hair is smashed to his head and water droplets trickle down his cheeks.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I gasp, my heart speeding out of control.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh really?” I eke out in between gasps, trying to regulate my breathing. “You think you can just walk in here in the middle of the night and I’m going to be expecting you?”