Written in the Scars(31)

Hands trembling around the steering wheel, a small gasp escapes my lips. I flick my eyes forward as he approaches close enough for me to see his face. Whatever composure I have now will be obsolete if I somehow meet Ty’s eyes in the rearview.

Maybe I’m too tired to think clearly, maybe I just want to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible, maybe I just feel too scattered and afraid either way, but against my better judgement, I pull into the driveway.

The recklessness of his driving, the aggression I can feel ripple off of him—even being in different vehicles—is telling.

He knows.

He knows where I’ve been.

It’s terrifying and a relief all in one swift, blazing swoop. It’s enough of a shock to press the tears away, my body going into some kind of fight or flight mode because I can’t predict his behavior. That’s a part of why we’re in this damn situation anyway. I don’t know him anymore.

Breathe, Elin.

Just as I suspect, Ty’s truck inches in behind me, its bumper almost kissing mine. He’s out of the truck before I even turn off my car. I see the ferocity in his eyes in my side mirror, his jaw ticking as he gets closer.

I grab my coat and toss it over the envelope, like somehow that piece of fabric is going to protect my decision, make it easier to get through these next few minutes.

My door is jilted open and he stands in front of me, scowling. His eyes are narrowed, his body rippling in his jeans and long-sleeved, charcoal-colored thermal shirt that clings to his body.

I step gingerly out of the car, my gaze trained on the gravel beneath his grey and blue sneakers, and he slams it behind me before taking a step back. I’m not sure if it’s for his benefit or mine.

I keep walking. Head down, shoulders pressed forward, heart thumping away, I stride as quickly as I can up the walkway and to the back door. I listen for his steps but hear none.

My mouth is dry, my nerves dancing with overstimulation as I realize I’ve forgotten my purse in the car. My stomach stinks as I try to figure out if I can get in through a window or if I can just sit on the back porch until he leaves because there is no way I’m walking back there.

The glass in the door gives me a warning that Ty is coming up behind me. I stand, facing the door, my breath fogging up the glass as he nears. Far too quickly than I’m prepared for, his chest is inches from mine, his arm around the front of me as he sticks his key in the lock.

His chest is not quite touching my back, but I can feel the energy pouring off of him. Knees weak, I fight myself not to fall back into him because he’s not my safe place anymore.

Just as I start to disintegrate and lose all composure, the door groans, opening wide. I don’t hesitate to step inside . . . and neither does he. The groan sounds again before I hear the lock latch shut.

“Guess who I ran into today?” he asks, his voice far too calm. The disparity of the tone against the look I saw in his eyes a few minutes ago sends a chill down my spine.

I have no idea why he’s doing this, why he just doesn’t come out and say whatever it is he has to say about my visit with Parker. But I’m in no hurry to get to that part of the conversation, so I play along. Hoping, praying, that I’m wrong about the purpose of this visit.

“Jiggs?” I offer, my back to him.

“Did ya happen to run into Pettis today?”

My hands tremble as they cover my face. The coolness of the metal of my wedding band caressing my cheek. It suddenly feels so heavy on my finger. “Yeah.”

His hand smacks the table and I jump, the jolt dissolving the wall holding back the tears.

The wetness courses down my cheeks, my lashes heavy with the weight of the fluid. It’s a silent cry—no sobs, no gasps for breath.

“What the f*ck, E?”

The huskiness of his voice quickens my tears, the sadness so thick that I can’t bear to endure it for the both of us.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my own voice muddied.

“Pettis told me you filed for divorce.”

Like a mortar hitting its target, even though it’s a shell I shot, my heart bursts into flames. I swallow a sob, nearly choking as I do.

“Tell me he’s lying, E,” he says, a hitch in his voice that breaks me. “Tell me I need to go find him and bust his ass. Tell me I’m going to spend a couple of days in the county jail. Please,” he adds, the pain so palpable that I can’t take it anymore.

Thoughts, fears, questions, consequences, failures hurl through my mind, consuming me. I can’t think, I can’t make sense of anything other than the overwhelming desire to shut my eyes and succumb to the pain.

Reaching for the doorframe, I start to steady myself, but not before a set of strong hands finds my waist and does it for me.

A sob slips by my lips instantly, the sound filling the quiet of the kitchen. Another one rips from somewhere in my soul, and another, and another, and before I know it, I’m twirled around and my face is buried in Ty’s chest. His arms pull me against him, his chin rests naturally on the top of my head like it’s done a thousand times before.

My hands wind around his waist and I cry for everything we’ve had together, every moment of our life we’ve spent as one unit.

For every late night we sat in bed eating a pint of ice cream.

For every drive through the country with no destination in mind.