Written in the Scars(41)
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?”
His headlights shine through the living room window and instant relief washes over me. “Yeah, why don’t you?”
The call ends and within a few seconds, he raps on the front door. I venture to the living room and let him in.
Cord steps inside, wearing a pair of dark denim jeans, a white t-shirt, and a brown fleece jacket. He looks like the requisite boy-next-door with his clean cut good looks and simple, easy nature. “How are you?” he asks, shrugging off his flannel jacket. “Damn, it’s hot in here.”
“I keep it warm,” I say, glancing at the thermostat. “Ty always kept it cooler . . .”
My eyes wet at the sound of his name. I remember all the arguments we’d have over the thermostat, how one of us would change it and the other would change it right back. It was really one of the only things we just couldn’t agree on.
Cord watches me carefully. “Did you really file for divorce today?”
I slump on the sofa. “No. I just went to see how to do it.”
“That’s pretty big,” he comments, sitting in the chair across the room. “Did you mean it?”
“I did it, didn’t I?”
“That doesn’t mean you wanted to.”
My head in my hands, I feel a bone-crushing exhaustion settle in.
“I’m going to be honest,” Cord says, interrupting my thoughts. “You don’t look like a woman that just did something she believes in.”
“I did what I had to do, Cord.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
“What in the world do you know about my marriage? How do you know what I did or didn’t have to do?” I ask, annoyed.
“Because no one has a gun pointed to your head telling you to talk to an attorney or they’re pulling the trigger,” he says, completely unaffected by the look I’m shooting him. “You saw someone about a divorce. That’s no small thing.”
“No shit,” I mock, shaking my head.
Cord sighs and sits back in the chair. “I hate this.”
“Yeah, well, join the crowd.”
His brows shoot to the ceiling.
“Of course I hate this,” I whisper, flopping back against the cushions. “Do you think this was the way I saw my life going?”