Written in the Scars by Adriana Locke Page B

out in there with her, planning dinners and nights out with our guys, like my world was untouchable. How foolish.
    I’d give anything to close my eyes and be transported six months back. To walking in the house and having Ty there, the kitchen a mess from his attempt at fixing lunch, the television on entirely too loud.
    “Stop,” I mutter to myself, turning abruptly to head to my car. I jump when I almost collide with a hard body.
    “Mrs. Whitt, I’m sorry!” Dustin Montgomery is standing in front of me, a wide grin on his face. His brown hair is cut short, his blue eyes shining.
    “It’s fine, Dustin. I think I ran into you,” I laugh.
    “How are you?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. “How’s Coach?”
    Pasting on a smile to hide my uncertainty, I deflect. “I’m good, thank you. Why are you not in school?”
    “I skipped a day,” he winces.
    “Dustin . . .”
    “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
    I can’t help the smile on my face. Dustin is one of Ty’s favorite kids, a boy reminiscent of a younger Cord. He is a child of foster care, a kid that does the best he can. Ty picks him up a lot and gets him to practices, and I fix a bag of food for him a lot of nights so he has something to eat after school before practice.
    Dustin’s a good kid, and I know he loves Ty as much as Ty loves him, and it breaks my heart that he feels as abandoned by my husband as I do.
    He furrows his brow, his face sobering. “We all miss Coach, Mrs. Whitt. Is he okay? Is he coming back? Jason said he saw his truck at the gas station yesterday. I said it couldn’t be him because if he was back, he’d have been at practice.” He forces a swallow. “He would’ve called me. Right?”
    My chest aches for him. “He just got back. I’m sure he’ll be by to see you soon.” I feel like a jerk for leading him on when I don’t know what Ty’s plans really are. “But you have to remember, he’s not your coach anymo—”
    “He’ll always be our coach,” he says with so much certainty it makes me feel like I’m being reprimanded. “You tell him,” he swears, bending forward so his eyes bore into mine, “that we want him back. At least to see him, know he’s okay. Tell him to come by practice. Okay? Tell him to call me, Mrs. Whitt.”
    “Okay. I will,” I whisper, my heart tugging in my chest.
    He flashes me a concerned smile before turning towards the Fountain.
    “Hey, Dustin!” I call out.
    He turns to face me. “Yeah?”
    “Here.” I fish through my purse and pull out a twenty-dollar bill. “Get a sandwich before practice.”
    Hesitating before reaching for the money, I can tell he doesn’t want to accept it. He never does.
    “Take it,” I say, smiling. “Have Ruby make you a double cheeseburger. She’s bored in there today anyway. You’ll thrill her to death.”
    “Thanks, Mrs. Whitt.” He reaches for the money, his eyes softening. “I’ll do that. But the burger won’t be as good as yours.”
    Shaking my head, I adjust my purse on my shoulder. “If you need anything this week, you know how to get ahold of me. I mean that.”
    “And if you need anything at all, call me. You’ve always . . .” His cheeks flush and he looks down the street for a long second before turning back to me. “You’ve always been good to me. Anything you need, Mrs. Whitt, I’m happy to help out however.”
    “Thank you, Dustin,” I say, biting my bottom lip so the physical pain weighs heavier than my emotions.
    He watches me carefully, trying to decide if I’m okay. Once he seems satisfied, he heads inside The Fountain and I head into Attorney Parker’s office a few doors down.

TY
    Pulling off my blue hooded sweatshirt, I toss it into the truck before slamming the door behind me.
    “Ball!” I yell out, and a few moments later, the basketball is in my hands. I step onto the court and launch the ball from half-court. It drains through the net. Grinning at Jiggs and Cord, I laugh, “Still got it.”
    Jiggs rebounds