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Written in the Scars(96)

By:Adriana Locke


I laugh. “I don’t think the nurses would like that.”

“I don’t give a shit. I just spent . . . how long? . . . without you. I want you next to me.”

“How can I resist that?”

Slipping off my shoes, I climb in bed next to him. I rest my head on his shoulder, like I do every time we lie together, and drape an arm over his torso, careful to avoid the wires and bandages.

“Jiggs is okay,” I say finally, my words soft. “He has a few more dings than you and a broken rib, but he’s fine. Raising some hell over there.”

He laughs, his chest rising and falling, but I hear the hesitancy in it.

“How are you? Really?” I ask.

“I don’t know. You know, I’m physically okay. I don’t feel too bad. I just . . .” His voice trails and his body stills. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get Cord’s face out of my mind. Or what he did for me. For us.”

I squeeze him tight and blink back tears.

“He thought the world of you,” Ty says, sniffling, his voice breaking. “When we were going through our shit, he would be my voice of reason. He would tell me to keep at it, to not give up. That son of a bitch . . .”

We cry together, our hearts mourning the loss of one of the best people to ever walk the earth. To a sweet boy, a sweet soul, that maybe didn’t realize he knew how to love, but loved more than anyone I’ve ever met.

“I feel like we have to honor him,” I say, wiping my eyes with the bedsheet. “He gave his life for us to be together. We have to figure out how to give back to the world in his name.”

“We could never give back enough for what he just gave us,” Ty says. “It’s a hard gift to accept.”

I rise up and look him in the face. “But it’s one he gave knowing the consequences. For you to not just accept that takes away from what he did.”

He shrugs, not agreeing, not disagreeing. Instead, he changes the subject. “I want to take a vacation. Just me and you.”

“Where to?”

“The ocean. Cord always wanted to see the ocean and never made it. I want to do that. For him. Sound okay?”

“Sure,” I say, my heart racing. “But I might not be that much fun.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” I say, angling my body so I can see his face. “I can’t eat seafood.”

“Sure you can. I know you don’t like shrimp, but I think you’ll like lobster. And crab rolls.”

The corner of my lip twitches. “And my round belly might not look good in a bikini either . . .”

“What are you talking about?” he says, brushing my comment off. “You’re hot as fuck and I want to see youuuu . . .”

He stills. His eyes go wide, head cocking to the side. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” I say, bending over him so that my lips hover over his, “that I’m having your baby.”

“Really?” His voice is full of hesitation, his eyes twinkling, yet guarded, like he thinks I’m kidding.

“No, I’m making it up,” I giggle. “Yes, really! I’m pregnant, Ty.”

He pulls me to him, nearly suffocating me. Giggling, I try to pull back. “I can’t breathe!”

He lets my face loose, but then smothers it in kisses. His lips are still swollen from the accident, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing me senseless.

I settle in beside him again, noting the smile etched on his face. It’s inked on mine, as well.

“Mr. Whitt?”

We look to the doorway. A man is standing there with a large manila envelope in his hand.

“Are you Tyler and Elin Whitt? This is room 5431, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ty says. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m with Blackwater. My name is Hugh Umbrose. How are you tonight?”

“Better than I have been.”

“Well, I’m actually here to see your wife.” Hugh hands me the envelope. I sit up and take it. “This is a copy of Cord McCurray’s papers. He listed you as his next of kin.”

I drop the papers onto the sheets. “What?”

“You are listed as his next of kin. As far as Blackwater goes, you are in charge of his business.”

I look at Ty and he just smiles.

“But we aren’t . . . I mean, I’m not his family,” I say, picking up the envelope again. “Not by blood.”

“Sometimes family isn’t made by blood, Mrs. Whitt. Sometimes it’s a choice, and Mr. McCurry chose you.”





TY

My reflection stares back at me in the mirror. I don’t look bad, just a little cut here and there. My hair needs trimmed and my limp is back pretty heavily, but there are no lasting effects of the accident.