Written in the Scars(56)

“Has your friend here told you what she wants to do?” Jiggs asks me.

Glancing at my brother, I can see the line of irritation just below the surface. It’s the same look I see in the mirror when I’m trying desperately to not lose my cool, when I’m playing something off.

“What’s that?” I ask, switching my gaze to Lindsay.

She fumbles with a straw from her glass of water. “You want to do this again, Jiggs?” she sighs.

“No, I don’t want to do anything. I’m pretty certain I made that clear.”

“What are you two talking about?” Ty asks, his hand finding my waist.

“Lindsay wants to move to Florida.”

My stomach flip-flops. “You’re still talking about this? You can’t be serious.”

“She’s serious,” Jiggs says, a little too loud so his voice overrides hers. “I had an email this morning from a realtor in Sarasota. Apparently my wife has asked them to find a house near her parents and they wanted to know if a pool was a definite no.”

“Lindsay!” My jaw hits the floor as Jiggs watches me. “You can’t leave. Your life is here.”

A heavy breath escapes her lips. It’s obvious she’s been through this conversation a few times before, and it’s not one she wants to revisit.

“What is there for us here? For any of us?” Lindsay asks. “We are having a baby. What can we offer it here?”

“A family,” I scoff. “You could offer it a family here.”

“And Jiggs’ family is here,” Ty says, squeezing my hips with his large hands. “You can’t just expect him to walk away from Elin. Me. Cord.”

She smiles, but it’s not real. It’s a stretching of her lips, a physical, put-on gesture that has no substance behind it. “We can all go. Let’s leave this place for something more . . . stable.”

Imploring her with every nonverbal cue I can manage, I ask her to stop being crazy. To not throw things in a tizzy right when they’re being worked out. But she doesn’t take them. I can see it on her face.

“I expect him to do what’s best for our child,” she says matter-of-factly. “You would do the same thing, Elin.”

“I . . .” There are so many ways to take her statement that I can’t land on one to respond to. I just stand there and stare at her, feeling the weight of Ty and Jiggs’ eyes on me.

“I’m ready to go,” she says, looking at my brother. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

Lindsay gives me a hug that lacks any warmth to it at all. “See you later.”

She sidesteps me and then her voice drifts my way as she says goodbye to Cord, leaving me looking at Jiggs.

“Ty, give me a minute with my brother,” I say. He kisses me on the cheek, but I pull away from it. Once he’s gone, I give Jiggs a half-hearted smile. “She’s just hormonal. She won’t go through with it.”

His shoulders sag and I can’t take it. Wrapping him in my arms, I squeeze him as tightly as I can.

“I love ya,” Jiggs whispers against my ear. “We’ll work it out.”

“I know,” I say, pulling back. “Keep your chin up.”

He tilts it in the air, taking my words at face value, and I laugh.

“Let me ask you something,” I say so only he can hear. “Do you think Ty would cheat on me? Even if he had drugs in his system? Even if he was mad?”

“Absolutely not.” There’s no hesitation in Jiggs’ reply. “You know I’d tell you the truth. And if I thought that was even true, I’d kill the motherf*cker. But he’s not capable of that, Elin. He’s not built that way.”

He waits to see if I’m going to ask anything else and when it’s apparent I’m not, he clasps my shoulder and leaves.

“Let’s go,” Ty says, nodding towards the door.

My jaw clenches, steeling myself for the possibility of something I don’t want to hear, I nod.

He takes my hand so I can’t pull it away and laces our fingers together. “Mr. McCurry, we are out of here.”

“You just got here,” he objects.

“Well, you have a hot date to keep your eye on,” I point out. “You don’t need us.”

“I do, indeed,” Cord grins. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Come by in the afternoon. Bring Becca. I’ll make food.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Cord says.

Before I can respond, Ty’s dragging me out of the restaurant.



The door slams, vibrating Ty’s sunglasses off the dashboard. The key goes in the ignition just as forcefully before we speed out of the parking lot.

“Want to tell me Pettis is full of shit?” I ask, my arms folded over my chest. Leaning away from the middle console, as far out of arm’s reach as I can get, I look straight ahead.

He blows out a breath, worry lines creasing his forehead. “I didn’t see Pettis while I was gone.”

“Okay, well, that’s really good to know,” I bite out, “but that’s not the part I’m worried about.”

“He’s such a f*cking *.”

“Right now, you’re looking like the *.”