Written in the Scars(13)
Their heads whip to me, reacting to the fury in my voice. My cheeks are hot, half from pure anger at my brother and half from embarrassment. Even though they’re my friends, my family, except for Cord and practically him too, it’s still mortifying. They know he left me, and they must wonder, too, what is so wrong with me that my husband, the man I’ve loved my entire life, walked out and hasn’t bothered to come home.
“Did you lie to me, Jiggs?” I ask, feeling Lindsay’s hand rest on my forearm.
“Look, sis, I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t think he was coming.”
“I can leave,” Ty says, boring a hole into Jiggs’ skull with his stare. “I probably should go, actually.”
His shoulders slump, his navy blue Henley showing off the width of his shoulders and his trim waistline. He turns towards the foyer when Cord speaks up.
“Hey, man. Why don’t you stay?”
Cord takes a step towards me, his sparkling green eyes soft. “That’s an awful big yard out there, don’t you think, Elin? I’m pretty sure we can all enjoy the night and give each other some space. I mean, fuck, remember the night Jiggs got drunk as fuck and puked all over himself? We all avoided him like the plague because he stunk so bad.”
The memory eases the tension in the air just enough for us to chuckle under our breath. I can’t look at my husband, though I know he’s looking at me.
“You’d be all right with that, right, Elin?” Cord asks gently, coaxing words from my lips. “We’re just five friends. Two of y’all are just fighting right now, which, by the way, has gotta stop. Ty is sleeping at my place and he’s messy as fuck.”
My gaze focused on Cord, I start to grin. “I know he is. Good luck with that.”
There’s no denying the relief in my posture at knowing Ty is at Cord’s.
“I can leave, E, if it makes it easier for you,” Ty says, causing me to shiver at the intimacy in his tone.
They all look at me again, the weight of their gazes too much to bear. I grab the plate of brownies off the counter and head to the back door. “I’m taking these outside. Ty can do whatever he wants. He’s been great at avoiding me for weeks now. I’m sure he can manage another couple of hours.”
The door slams behind me.
TY
The fire crackles, sending sparks shooting into the sky. Scents of burnt marshmallows and hot dogs linger in the chilly night air as most of the people I grew up with relax on hay bales and lawn chairs.
The party is a lot tamer than most of the bonfires out here. So many of the guys I grew up with, even some of our dads, worked at the mine and are now unemployed. It’s not just a truck payment we have to cover now; we have families and mortgages and bills.
The lucky ones do, I guess.
Maybe that’s why no one is doing anything that would need the fire department this time. Everyone has too much on their minds—real shit—for mischief. It’s just as well. I don’t even want to be here. I wasn’t even going to stay, just stop by and say hi, until I saw her. Now I can’t leave.
Twirling the bottle of beer between my fingers, I watch Elin across the fire. She’s talking to Lindsay, her hand on her friend’s stomach, and I realize they’ve told her about the baby. I take a swig of beer, more to squash the burning in my throat than because of thirst.
A baby—that’s what we’ve always wanted. I felt guilty our senior year of high school when she thought she was pregnant and I was happy about it. There are worse things than a baby. I hated being an only child. I wanted the chaos the neighbors had with five boys.
Elin’s mom used to say she and I had the same spirit. That’s why we were so drawn together. I didn’t correct her and say it was her daughter’s ass that initially drew in, but it was her sweet, selfless spirit that kept me.
Her having my kids, my name, felt like such a victory. Such a coup. What more could a man want than to find a woman of Elin’s caliber to have your family with?
Our life was built on that. The house we picked out has a large oak tree that Elin thought was the perfect view for a nursery. Her job teaching would keep her home on holidays and summers and my job at the mine would afford us plenty of money to raise a slew of children. It might even let her stay home, if she chose.
To think none of that might happen . . .
“Hey, man,” Cord says, bumping my shoulder. He plops his tall frame into the chair beside me. “How are ya?”
I shrug.
“Yeah, I feel ya,” he voices, following my line of sight. “She’s pretty hot.”
My head jerks to the side, my fist ready to pound his face. I don’t give a fuck that he’s one of my oldest friends. He just crossed a line.