Written in the Scars(46)

“Absolutely. And call me if you need anything. Please. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone.” She hesitates. “You know what, call me even if you don’t need anything. Call me because I’m a needy friend and you know I’ll bitch if I don’t hear your voice.”

I grab my bag off the passenger’s seat and head to the back door, chuckling. “I love you. I’ll call you soon.”

“Night, chickie.”

Popping the door open, I’m met with a chill. The air isn’t warm like I expect after leaving it set on 74-degrees. I flip on lights, set my bag down, and check the thermostat. It’s on but not running.

“Shit,” I say out loud, looking at the ceiling.

The furnace does this each start to winter. There’s some trick to it that Ty figured out the second year we lived here. A trick I don’t know.

I eye the basement door on the other side of the kitchen. It mocks me with its hidden shadows and bugs and damp crevices. Shivering, I wonder if Jiggs could get it working or if I’m going to have to call my husband.

My lip twitches at the thought of seeing him again, and I try to kick myself for it, but I don’t. Wanting to see him is as natural to me as breathing or sleeping or craving soda.

Slumping against the wall, I can feel my heart thumping against my ribs. A decision is going to have to be made. I’ve known it since he left after taco night.

I’m going to have to either be firm and end this for good or I’m going to have to tell him my truths and try to work this out. The latter is something I don’t think I can survive.

Taking a deep breath, I head through the kitchen and place my hand on the knob to the basement door.

I can do this.





TY


“I’m f*cking beat.” I toss my gloves in the back of the truck, looking over the bed at Jiggs.

He laughs. “I told you before we got here this morning that this was going to suck.”

“Thanks though for the hookup today.”

My leg cramps, the muscle still not fully rehabilitated. It hurts like a motherf*cker. Still, it’s money I can give to Elin to put back in savings. I’ll do it every day for the rest of my life if I have to. I want to if that means I can make things right. If I can get one step closer to having a full house and family again.

“He said he didn’t know how much longer he’d have work for us, but if Murphy can get us back to mining in the next couple of weeks, it should work out.”

“Let’s f*cking hope.”

Jiggs digs around in his lunch box and pulls out a giant pickle. “So how’s my sister?” he asks, taking a snap off the cured cucumber.

“Watching you eat that is like watching you eat a dick. I can’t.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, swallowing. But he doesn’t take another bite.

“Elin’s . . . Elin,” I shrug. “I’m trying to see her without pushing her because I’m scared as hell to go right back to screaming matches again. But f*ck, Jiggs, I’m tired of not being home. I’m sick of not seeing her every day.”

“You think she’s coming around at all?”

“I got papers in the mail when I went by Cord’s at lunch,” I laugh. “Not divorce papers, just a set from Parker explaining the process and what he would suggest. So I guess not.”

He whistles between his teeth. “She’ll be all right. Just give her a little space. Let her come to you.”

“She—” I’m cut off by my phone ringing. I grab it out of my pocket to see Elin’s face. “It’s her,” I grin, swiping the screen. “Hey, E!”

“Hi,” she says, irritation thick in her voice. “What’s the trick to the furnace?”

“The trick to the furnace?” I laugh. “Why? What’s it doing?”

“That damn thing it does every winter. I have no idea what I’m looking at and it’s cold in here.”

“Want me to come fix it?” I grin, looking at Jiggs.

She sighs. “Just tell me how to fix it and I’ll do it. Or I’ll call my brother.”

“But I was your first call. I like that,” I laugh.

“Forget it. I’ll call Jiggs.”

“He’s standing right here, and he knows nothing about furnaces, right, Jiggs?”

“I got nothing, Elin!” he shouts as I hold the phone up in the air.

“See?” I say. “You better let me help you.”

She yelps in the phone, making me laugh.

“Are you in the basement?” I ask, trying to imagine her in the place she’s deemed the scariest place on earth.

“Yes,” she whines.

“Don’t look on the north windowsill. The spider that lives in that web is as big as my hand.”

“Fuck you,” she says, her voice wavering.

“And the snake that lives—”

“Forget it!” she screams.

Her feet pounding against the stairs leading to the kitchen has me laughing out loud. “Elin, calm down. I was only kidding.”

“Just come fix it. Please,” she begs as the basement door shuts and locks behind her.

“You don’t have to ask me twice. Be there in a second.”