Written in the Scars

“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 obvious 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?”