Текст книги "Hold On"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

His head jerked. The look of me, a full-on good-time girl, he was shocked it was me who made that call.

“Listen,” I went on. “I have a kid. He needs his sleep, even on a weekend. It sucks I had to call it in, but I hope you get me when I say I need to look after my kid. No way I’m goin’ over to your place in the middle of the night to ask you to have a mind to your neighbors. I had no choice.”

He studied me for a few beats before he stepped down off Tilly’s stoop and moved toward me.

I wanted to retreat step for step, but I stood my ground.

He could read me. We were of the same people. He knew I could look after myself.

And he knew, no way in hell I’d ever show a guy like him weakness.

No. Not ever.

With a guy like him or not, I’d never show a weakness.

I knew that too. I knew I had to show him every way I could that I was not weak. If I didn’t, a man like him could destroy me.

And he would.

He stopped four feet in front of me.

“You’re welcome to come over anytime, middle of the night or whenever,” he offered.

Fuck.

“Thanks, but like I mentioned, I got a kid,” I told him.

He looked beyond me, then back at me.

“Yeah. And he’s cute.”

I turned my head and saw Ethan standing just down the walk from our stoop.

Shit, shit, fucking shit!

I looked back at the dickhead.

“Yeah. I know. Anyway, Tilly’s cool. She’s a nice lady. You shouldn’t give her shit. She’s got two kids and a slew of grandkids who don’t ever visit her, and that sucks. She lives quiet. She doesn’t get into anyone’s business. She makes awesome cookies at Christmas. You don’t get in her face, brother, she’ll make you some cookies, and trust me, it’ll be worth bein’ cool to her.”

He grinned at me, his eyes shifting to my tits before they shot back to mine.

“I’ll take that advice,” he replied.

“Awesome. And sorry again I had to call it in, but just some advice, in case you haven’t been in the ’burg for very long: cops keep a close eye on shit and neighbors look out for neighbors. You wanna party, you might wanna take it somewhere else.”

That was taking it too far, and I knew it when hard entered his gaze and he declared, “Should be able to have a good time at my own fuckin’ house.”

I nodded. “I agree. It’s just that if that gets loud, your good time fucks with other people.” I tipped my head to the side, lifting my hand to give him the finger and thumb one-inch. “And worse, you came this close to ruinin’ AC/DC for me.”

He burst out laughing, doing it with his eyes twinkling appreciatively at me.

Shit, shit, fucking shit.

I took that too far too.

“Shame to ruin AC/DC,” he said through chuckles.

“Yeah. Now, I got shit to do. We good?” I asked.

His eyes fell to my tits again, and he didn’t lift them when he murmured, “Oh, we’re good.”

“Awesome,” I muttered, fighting back a nasty shiver. “Later.”

“Later, darlin’,” he drawled.

Fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

I lifted my chin to him, turned, and moved back toward my house, feeling his eyes follow me. I gave a jerk of my head to Ethan and he dashed up the steps of the stoop.

When I got closer, I saw him open the storm, and I also saw he had a baseball bat resting by the wall just inside the door.

My little man looking out for me (and Tilly).

I barely got the door closed when Ethan asked, “You okay, Mom?”

“Yeah, it’s all good. He’s gonna leave Tilly alone. It’s fine,” I assured him, hearing my phone begin to ring. It was in the bathroom and I made my way there, but I did it calling behind me, “We’ll talk about you comin’ out when I told you to stay inside after I see who that is.”

“Not gonna let you go out there without takin’ your back,” he informed me.

That was cute. It was sweet. It was the right thing to do. It was also the wrong thing to do for a kid his age.

But I’d get to explaining that later.

I nabbed my phone, not thinking good thoughts at who the screen told me was calling.

I took the call and put it to my ear. “Ryker—”

“You get injected with a huge-ass dose of stupid since I last saw you?” he asked on a mild bark.

He was watching.

Why was he watching?

Fuck!

“Ry—”

“Told you that guy does not exist for you,” he declared.

“I know, but Ry—”

“Won’t let him do shit to the old broad. Anyway, the bitch went to church. She isn’t even there.”

I closed my eyes in despair.

Of course. Tilly went to church every Sunday. Then she went out with her girls for lunch. She wouldn’t be home until at least two.

Shit.

“Now that you gave him an up close and personal, he’s gonna live and breathe findin’ a way to tag your tight, round ass,” Ryker informed me.

“He has a woman,” I informed him back.

“They’re havin’ problems, so she’s gonna be history in about an hour, seein’ as momma hot stuff two doors down, with a pair a’ knockers made for squeezin’ together and thrustin’ a cock into is his key to tradin’ up in a big fuckin’ way.”

Uh…

Gross.

“Ryk—”

“Don’t know the games you and Merrick are playin’, sister. What I do know is that if you don’t cool your shit, I’m bringin’ him in on this. And I know Merrick, babe. I know that brother better than you in ways he’ll hide from you, even if you both stop dickin’ around and sort your shit out. He finds out what’s goin’ down two doors from his bitch, he will lose his motherfucking mind. And Merrick’s a maverick. Merrick keeps a loose hold on messy. And Merrick’s brand o’ messy makes me look adjusted. The only thing that would make Merrick lose hold on that is someone he digs bein’ in a deep pile a’ shit. Man’ll stop at nothin’ to dig you out, even if it buries him in the process. So listen up, Cher. Keep your ass safe. Keep your kid safe. And keep the man you’re fuckin’ around claimin’ safe. Now we’re done and this conversation won’t be repeated. You don’t get smart real fuckin’ fast, you know where I’ll go. And you’ll know, it gets ugly, it’s you made it that way.”

He then disconnected.

I didn’t move, one hand to my phone at my ear, the other one curled around the edge of the sink, holding on like it was a lifeline.

He finds out what’s goin’ down two doors from his bitch, he will lose his motherfucking mind.

What was going on?

Merrick keeps a loose hold on messy.

I knew that. I’d learned from a lot of experience, as well as making too many mistakes, how to read people.

The good ole boy Merry was surface. You could scratch through that using your fingernail and not a lot of effort.

Man’ll stop at nothin’ to dig you out, even if it buries him in the process.

I knew that too.

Shit.

All that, and Tilly wasn’t even home.

“Mom?”

I drew in breath, dropped the phone from my ear, let go of the sink, and turned to see Ethan in the doorway.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” he asked, shifting and eyeing me anxiously. “I was tryin’ to do the right thing.”

I drew in another breath and forced my body to relax when I let it go.

Then I told him, “I know that, Ethan. And it was the right thing in one way. There’s nothin’ wrong with you wantin’ to look out for your momma. But it was also the wrong thing since I’d told you to stay inside.”

He bit his lip.

I moved to him but didn’t crouch like I used to. He was getting tall, not quite there yet, but he needed to learn to use what he had. What he didn’t need was to learn how to put up with someone being condescending, crouching into him because he was a kid, even if they didn’t mean to be.

“You’re the man of this house,” I told him and watched his chest expand with pride. “But, kid, you’re also still a kid. Ask Colt, Sul, Mike—any of them will tell you a man’s gotta know his strengths and his weaknesses. He’s gotta learn to judge situations right. And they’ll also tell you any kid who’s still a kid, no matter it sucks, no matter the situation scares them and they wanna help, they gotta do what their momma says.”

His shoulders slumped.

God, most of the time, being a mom rocked.

It was just times like this when it absolutely didn’t.

Quickly, I continued, “In that situation, you shoulda got the phone and kept an eye on me through the window. You got a bad vibe, you could call Colt or the police or something. That way, you had my back but also did as I asked. But seein’ as nothin’ like that is gonna happen again, it doesn’t matter. Life is life. You learn from it. Today, you learned.”

Gazing up at me, he nodded.

“Right,” I muttered.

“That guy kinda seems like bad news. Are you sure nothin’ like that is gonna happen again?”

“I think your read on him is right. He’s not a dude like the dudes we like to hang with, so both of us should keep our distance. But I also think his crap is his, so if we do that, it’ll all be good.”

He nodded again.

“Now, I gotta finish gettin’ ready, honey. You good to go to your gram’s?” I asked.

“Yeah, Mom.”

“Right, let’s get to that part of our day.”

He grinned at me and got out of the doorway.

I took in another breath and headed to my bedroom.

* * * * *

Monday Night

Whether it was intentionally good timing or not, Trent phoned at the perfect moment, right before I was about to slide out of my car and hit work for the night shift.

He’d texted twice more since the first two.

I’d been blowing him off.

I needed to stop doing that so he’d leave me alone. He also needed to think on things and I needed to give him the things he needed to think about.

So I took the call with a “Hey, Trent.”

“Texted you a million times, Cheryl,” he exaggerated.

“I know. I’m sorry. Things were busy,” I semi-lied.

“Ethan told me he’s not comin’ to see me and Peg this weekend,” he shared irately.

I beat back a sigh.

“As you know, Trent, this gig is Ethan’s,” I replied. “He gets to decide when he wants to see you. He’s back at school now so it’s sleepover time, and the good stuff happens with his buds on weekends.”

“He needs to spend time with his father.”

Trent said the words, but they came right out of Peggy’s mouth.

“All right, I gotta get to work in a minute, but you should know, Ethan and I had a talk about you and Peg wantin’ to spend more time with him and he doesn’t like that idea. He digs you. Your wife. Your kids. But he’s feelin’ the need to take things with you slow and that’s his call. So if he needs space, you’re gonna give it to him.”

“He’s a kid, Cheryl. He doesn’t get to make those calls.”

More Peggy.

“He’s a kid, Trent, you’re right. But he isn’t five. He’s nearly eleven. He knows his own mind, what he wants, what feels good to him. He’s at a time where he’s gotta explore makin’ his own decisions and how that plays out. We gotta let him.”

“He’s too young to start that kind of thing. He needs guidance,” father of the century Trent Schott educated me.

I sought patience (not my strong suit) and returned, “I’m not sayin’ he doesn’t need guidance. I’m just sayin’ he needs some freedom and space.”

“He can have all the freedom and space he wants when he’s thirty. Now, bein’ a kid, he needs his old man helpin’ him learn to be a man.”

And more Peggy.

But it would be Peggy teaching him to be a man.

The thought turned my stomach and I clenched my teeth to beat back my response to that.

This, unfortunately, allowed Trent to carry on.

“You need to tell him he’s gotta come and stay with Peg and me. This weekend. We’ll pick him up from your place at five thirty on Friday.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Trent.”

“Then I’ll tell him, and if he’s not there, just sayin’, Cheryl, that’s a mistake you don’t wanna make.”

“Okay,” I snapped, having had enough. “This is the deal—you got no rights in this situation, Trent. Not until a judge says what rights you got. You wanna drag my son through that, I can guaran-damn-tee you that you’re gonna drive him further away from you than you already are, pushin’ me with this shit. Now, we can avoid that and do right by Ethan if we calm down, sit down, talk somethin’ through that’ll work for all of us, and by ‘all of us,’ I mean it works for Ethan. But he’s tellin’ you right now he needs a break. That gives us a golden opportunity to sort shit out so when he’s ready for more, we got it set up with an understanding between us how that’s gonna go.”

“Pushin’ you with this?” he asked. “You tell him we pushed?”

We.

She wasn’t even there when he pushed.

God, there was no Trent.

It was only Trent and Peggy.

Which meant there was only Peggy.

“I don’t lie to my kid,” I shared. “So yeah, I told him the good news that his dad likes hangin’ with him, but that came with the bad news that his dad did not respect me by communicatin’ that right. That is not my issue. You fucked that up.”

“You’re tryin’ to turn my son from me. From me and Peg.”

Me and Peg.

Barf.

“No, Trent, you don’t see what’s happenin’ here. I’m tryin’ to tell you that you are fuckin’ this up, and I’m also givin’ you advice on how not to do that. You decide not to take it, you bear the consequences.”

“Peg and me show at your place Friday, Cheryl, my son isn’t there, you’ll hear from our attorney,” he warned.

Like he had an attorney.

“Whatever, Trent. It isn’t like you haven’t put me through the wringer before. Not like he’s a stupid kid and doesn’t know the life he’s led, I led, part of that bein’ because of the choices you made. Do it again. You’re such a dumb fuck you don’t see I’m a scrapper, especially when it comes to my kid, and I always come out standing, your mistake. But to save you some time and gas money, my kid is not gonna be at my house on Friday at five thirty for you to pick him up. Ethan’ll let you know when he’s ready. Until then, last advice I give, wait for him to come around. You do, you’ll be golden. You don’t, you risk losin’ him forever.”

I disconnected, threw my phone in my purse, and hauled my ass out to go to work.

I did this hoping we’d have a busy night. I needed a ton of tips.

Because I had a feeling I might be facing attorney’s fees.

* * * * *

Two hours later, I stared down at the end of the bar where Colt and Sully were bent over their beers, looking at each other, smiling and chuckling.

Feb was on. Jackie was looking after Colt and Feb’s little Jack.

This happened. Colt liked to hang with his woman when she was on.

Then again, Colt just liked to be with his woman and they both liked to give their son’s gramma time to be with her grandson.

Drew Mangold, another detective, had been in. He’d left fifteen minutes ago.

Mike had been there too. When I got there, he’d been sitting with Colt and Sully, shooting the shit, an after-work drink that led to two with cop bonding. But he’d left less than half an hour after I hit the bar for my shift.

No Merry.

He didn’t come into J&J’s every day.

But he was a regular. Once a week, more often two or three times, sometimes more.

It had nearly been a week since I blew things up.

He was avoiding me.

This scared me. He didn’t seem the kind to hold a grudge. He was a straight shooter. He had a problem with you, he told you to your face and didn’t delay (not that he’d ever had a problem with me, but I’d seen him have problems with other people and that was what he did).

He was not doing this with me.

He also wasn’t living his life as he had so there was an opening for us to gloss over it and move on.

So it was safe to say I was worried. I’d not apologized. I’d not reached out in any way. There was no door open he could slide through so we could start the work to get back to the him and me that used to be.

My attention was called, a customer wanting a draft.

I pulled it, all the ugly shit that had come out of my mouth that I’d aimed at Merry slamming through my brain as I did.

I served the draft. The guy paid. I got a good tip that would probably pay for half a second of an attorney’s time. I moved down the bar after a scan showed me some drinks needed refills.

I made drinks, notes on tabs, pocketing tips on those who paid outright and didn’t open a tab.

Done with that, I glanced down at Colt and Sully. Feb was standing with them but twisted, her eyes on me.

She smiled a soft smile.

She’d noted Merry hadn’t come in too.

I returned a cocky grin.

She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t act on that.

At that moment, Ruthie bellied up to the bar with an order.

I moved her way.

* * * * *

Early Tuesday Morning

It was four o’clock in the morning. Mom was snoring on the couch. Ethan was sleeping in his bed. I was in my bed, the room dark, my phone illuminated.

I fucked us up, I typed into Merry’s text string.

I deleted it.

I fucked us up, I typed again, my eyes beginning to burn.

I deleted it again.

I miss you¸ I didn’t tell him, typing it with no intention of sending it.

I backspaced through it.

I fucked us up, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry.

I didn’t hit send, but I also didn’t erase it.

Like it could just exist and he’d somehow get it without me giving it to him, I left it there, closed down my phone, tossed it on the nightstand, turned to my side, closed my blazing eyes, and did not sleep.

* * * * *

Garrett

Tuesday Night

Getting home after work, Garrett sifted through his mail at the kitchen bar, wondering how the fuck he got so many catalogs when he’d never bought a thing from a catalog in his life, and in the same time, he’d never made an online purchase.

Bills. Credit card applications. Life insurance offers.

And there it was.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, staring at the handwriting.

Solely out of curiosity, he opened the envelope.

Upending it, an eight-by-ten color glossy slid out on his bar, face up. Stuck on it was a bright pink Post-it note in the shape of a heart.

It read, I messed this up. I didn’t work for it. I’m going to work for it, baby.

He read the note and looked at the picture.

In it, he was sitting on a barstool in Vegas. Mia was in a clingy dress he’d liked a fuckuva lot, standing next to him, hanging on him. She didn’t have to hang; he had his arm around her, holding her close.

On the bar was a three hundred dollar bottle of champagne. They were both holding filled flutes. They’d splurged because he’d just won seven thousand dollars at the craps table.

They’d taken a few sips before Mia had asked someone passing by to take that picture.

Then they took the champagne to the reception desk and did what they did. Not planning for a future, living in the now, doing it wild to pack in as much as they could, they blew almost all his winnings, got upgraded to a suite, and made short work of moving rooms.

The rest of the time they were in Vegas, three days, they didn’t leave that suite. They got room service if they needed to eat. But if they weren’t eating or sleeping, they were fucking, whispering, or laughing.

He’d never been happier.

And that was when it began. He felt it. He felt it their last night in Vegas when he laid on his back in the bed in that suite with his naked wife curled sleeping at his side.

He’d felt the fear.

They’d been three years in their marriage—three good, strong, solid years—and the minute they stepped foot off that plane onto Indiana soil, he’d started pulling away.

She’d let him. She hadn’t fought it once. She’d been confused. Scared. Hurt. She’d let that show. It had killed him, seeing that, seeing what he was doing to her, but he didn’t quit doing it. He didn’t once cease in his efforts at driving her away.

And in those three years she hadn’t once asked him what was in his head. What was making him drive a wedge between them. What was pushing him to kill their happy.

She hadn’t even begun to put up a fight.

Eight years later, she decided to put up a fight.

Staring at that picture, all they had, all they were, all he’d wanted, all that had fucked with his head, all the harm he’d done to her, all the pain he’d caused surfaced and he gave it a second of his time.

Eight years.

Then Cher’s bravery, smashing through that fortress she had every reason to build around herself to wake up that morning and look at him the way she did, touch him the way she did, brush her lips against his throat, take his mouth, moved all thought of Mia aside.

Cher’d had it tough in a way that even in twenty years on the force he hadn’t seen anyone fucked by life as much as her.

But it hadn’t even taken her a week to break through the walls she’d built to guard her heart to start letting him in. It got fucked up, but she’d still done it.

Not eight years.

Not even a week.

That was all Merry needed.

He picked up the picture, tore it in half, in quarters, in eighths, then toed his trash bin and tossed it inside.

After that, he went to his fridge to get a beer before he went to his couch and turned on the TV.

It was Tuesday.

Tomorrow was Wednesday.

Which meant it had been a week.

Cher’s time was up.

* * * * *

Ethan

Wednesday Morning

His mom’s phone beeped.

He went to it and saw the text from his gramma telling them they needed to figure out a time to have a family dinner.

He opened his mouth to yell at his mom as he engaged her phone, punching in her password, going to her texts.

He closed his mouth when his mom’s texts came up.

There was a line that said Merry.

Merry, a cool guy, a cop, a badass—not an in-your-face badass like Cal, but still a badass who would be able to stop anything bad from ever happening to his mom. A cool guy, cop badass who looked all natural holding his mom’s hand.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.

He touched the line with Merry’s name.

He read the string, scrolling with his finger, his eyes screwing up, not understanding.

Talked to Ryker. He’s been briefed by Tanner. He’s all over the church lady.

That means you broke your promise to me. Right to my face, you promised. You lied.

You know what that means, Merry. You shared my shit. That means we’re over in every way we can be over.

DONE.

They were over?

There was something between his mom and Merry to be over?

She’d told him there wasn’t.

But she hadn’t told him the truth.

She was protecting him.

Again.

Ethan felt his heart beating real hard.

There were words in the message line that hadn’t been sent.

I fucked us up, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry.

She called Merry “baby.” She didn’t call anyone “baby” unless she liked them a whole heckuva lot.

It said I fucked us up.

His mom and Merry were an us!

And they were fighting.

“Kid! You want hash browns for breakfast or what?” his mom called.

She was coming his way.

Ethan bit his lip.

Then he hit send.

Real quick, he typed in, Don’t text. If you forgive me, come see me.

He sent that too.

Then, super quick, he moved to his gramma’s text string just as his mom hit the kitchen.

Screen out, he waved her phone at her. “Gramma wants us to plan a family dinner.”

“I’ll get right on that after we get back from DC for the dinner the president and first lady are putting on in our honor.”

Ethan burst out laughing.

His mom was totally funny.

And because of that and all the other cool that was his mom, Merry would come. Ethan knew it.

No texting. Merry was like Colt. He was a real dude. Ethan was sure he didn’t play games. Ethan knew this because Merry hadn’t messed around when he was worried about that guy who was running around with a gun in their neighborhood. Even if his mom was trying to play things cool for Ethan’s sake, Merry kept close to look out for Ethan and his mom. So Ethan knew Merry wouldn’t mess around with stuff like that. Not stuff that was important.

Stuff like his mom.

They’d talk. They’d make up. His mom could be stubborn, but Merry would break through.

They thought he was a kid. They thought he didn’t see. They thought he didn’t hear.

But he saw. He heard. He watched, because he sensed what he was seeing was how it should be and it felt good, being around the way they were.

That being that sometimes Feb could be stubborn too, and Colt broke through. So could Vi, and Cal always broke through too. Rocky was full of attitude—she was Merry’s sister so he knew all about that—and Tanner always just thought it was funny, and when he laughed at her, Rocky didn’t get ticked. Her face got all soft like she loved him even more because the way she was made him laugh.

Ethan’s mom was super funny. She’d make Merry laugh all the time.

So they’d make up. Merry would see to that. Merry was in no way a stupid dude, and any guy would want a lady who’d make him laugh all the time. Ethan knew that for certain. He knew it because Colt did, so did Cal, Mike, Tanner. And when Ethan found his babe, that was what he would want too.

And after they made up, they’d stop hiding things from him so his mom could protect him like she did when that bad guy effed her over so bad.

Then…

Then…

Then Merry would be around all the time.

And she’d finally be happy.