Текст книги "Hold On"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

Chapter Six

Eternity

Cher

I sat curled up on my couch.

The front light was on. The side light was on. The back light was on. The kitchen lights were blazing. And I’d left a lamp on in my bedroom.

The first time I’d checked, Ethan was in bed but awake. Same for the second and third.

The last, he was out.

So it was late, just me on my couch, the gun I’d bought the day after I hightailed my and Ethan’s asses to Ohio when I found out who Lowe actually was was on the seat of the couch by my toes.

My phone was in my hand.

Obviously, I’d unblocked Merry.

And I’d opened my curtains, just a couple of inches, so I could see out.

As I watched, to occupy my mind, I found it fascinating in a vague way that our street went dead after midnight on a weeknight. Completely dead. No cars at all.

I also thought on the fact that I was lucky to have the next day off, since right then I was wide awake and in it for the long haul.

I hoped Merry would think of me and text or phone to tell me things were okay, they got the guy, he and all the boys and girls who worked at the station were all good.

But I was where I was only partly due to that.

Mostly, a man was out there who was desperate enough to rob a gas station (for fuck’s sake) and, in more desperation, engage in gunplay with cops. He’d been seen in my ’hood. And my boy had only me to make sure we stayed safe.

So I was on my couch, awake, on the lookout, my son asleep, my gun close.

I caught light reflecting on the quiet, dark houses across the street and looked from the window across the room to my cable box.

It was one thirteen in the morning.

Maybe a neighbor just got off a late shift.

My back went straight when I found it wasn’t a neighbor but instead Merry’s Excursion pulling to a stop in front of my house.

Okay, I’d hoped he’d call or text.

But him showing in person was way better.

I jumped off the couch but kept an eye on him and saw him get out of his truck and round the hood.

I’d noted long ago the chief of police had no dress code for his detectives. Some, like Colt, wore jeans and sports jackets, making both look nice and professional just because he had that ability. Others wore nice slacks and jackets.

Merry wore suits, no ties. His suits were nice. They fit him well. They always complimented his coloring. They made the statement he took his job seriously. Even though he wore them extremely well, what they didn’t do was make the statement that he was up his own ass and knew how hot he was.

And earlier, he’d been in one of them, a dark gray one with a midnight-blue shirt that didn’t do much for him in the muted light of an alley, but I’d seen him in that combo before, and with good lighting, the shirt specifically did fabulous things for his eyes.

Now he was not in that suit.

He was in jeans, boots, a button-up shirt, and a leather jacket.

Apparently, you didn’t go man hunting all dressed up.

I filed this away with the other useless but interesting information in my brain and headed to my door.

I had it unlocked and opened, the storm door the same, and I was holding it slightly ajar with my hand by the time Merry made it to my stoop.

Eyes to me, he pulled it all the way open.

I didn’t hesitate to shift back.

He didn’t hesitate to walk right in.

He kept his fingers splayed on the glass of the door to soften the noise it’d make in closing. Once it clicked, he turned his head so he could pay attention while he locked it.

I shuffled back further to give him room to clear, close, and lock the front door.

He did this and turned to me, dipping his chin down.

“They get him?” I whispered.

“Yeah. Marty tackled him behind the Dairy Queen.”

Something about this made me want to laugh.

I didn’t laugh.

I asked, “Everyone okay?”

“It’s all good, sweetheart.”

I nodded, letting the tension ebb out of me.

In the subdued light that stretched from the kitchen, I saw him look toward the hall.

His gaze came back to me. “Ethan asleep?”

I nodded again. “Had trouble findin’ it, but he got there.”

“Good,” he muttered.

I stood there and Merry stood there. I stared up at him as his eyes moved over my face.

Then he looked over my head into the room as he asked, “You get any rest at all?”

“No.”

His head jerked slightly and his eyes cut back to me.

“Please, fuck, baby, tell me that piece is registered.”

“I bought it in Ohio.”

His mouth got tight.

Ohio liked their guns and the easy ability of people owning them, and Merry obviously knew that fact.

“And, uh…Colt told me as long as I don’t carry it, I’m good.”

“Colt knows you got it?”

I nodded.

“He show you how to use it?”

I shook my head.

His mouth got tight again.

“Jack showed me,” I shared quickly.

He sighed.

Suddenly it dawned on me this was weird, precisely the fact he was there at all.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Shit, what happened?” I asked, moving closer.

“What happened is, I got a call that reported an armed man was at large within blocks of your mom and your boy.”

Oh God. Oh shit.

Damn it, Merry.

Automatically, I moved closer, putting my hand to his stomach.

“Merry,” I whispered. Just that. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Spending the night, Cher.”

I felt my eyes get big at this declaration, but I didn’t speak or move.

“With you in your bed.”

Oh God.

“And if you don’t lock that handgun away when you’re not sittin’ vigil to look after your kid, we’ll be goin’ to sleep after I make your ass red for bein’ all kinds of stupid.”

I felt my eyes get squinty and I spoke then. I also stepped back.

“You think I’d have an unsecured firearm in my home with my kid?” I snapped.

“Lock it up. You don’t need yours out when I got mine.”

Okay, we were back on rocky ground.

“Merry, I—”

Abruptly, he moved. Hooking me at the back of my head, his face was in mine, and at what I saw in his eyes, I stopped speaking and concentrated on breathing.

“Shut your mouth. Get your piece. Lock it up. And come to bed.”

“I’m not real sure what’s goin’ on right now, gorgeous,” I said carefully. “But my boy’s in this house and—”

“What’s goin’ on,” he cut me off to start and he didn’t let up, “is tonight, you learn you got a man who gives a shit in your life, shit goes down in the night that more than likely would never touch you, but it’s still goin’ down and we both know shit happens, you don’t sleep alone. You don’t because he doesn’t sleep alone. He sleeps where he knows you’re safe. So get your fuckin’ gun. Lock that fucker up. And come to bed.”

I liked that. I wanted that. I wanted to learn that in a way it sunk so deep, I wouldn’t even remember there being a time when I didn’t have it.

And none of that was smart.

“Merry—”

“Now is not the time to fight me, Cher. I been out in the cold with a gun in my hand and a vest on my back, huntin’ a man with my brothers. A desperate man, prowlin’ through family neighborhoods. A man who demonstrated he’s all right with pullin’ a trigger. In a situation like that, anything can happen, to me, to one of my brothers, or to some random citizen who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s done, so right now there’s one thing I need. And right now, I’m askin’ you to shut your mouth and give me what I need.”

What he needed.

Him sleeping where he knew I was safe.

No man, not one my entire life, needed that from me.

Or wanted to give it to me.

So what the fuck did I do with that?

“Cher,” he growled an impatient prompt.

“All right, all right,” I snapped, pulling my head from his hold. “Keep your pants on.”

I moved to the gun. I grabbed the gun. I went to the kitchen and turned out the light. I walked to Merry, by Merry, and down the hall.

I felt Merry at my heels and he stayed at my heels until we hit my room.

I heard him close the door.

I went to my closet, shoved the beaded curtain that hid my shit aside, and reached high to my safe that was on a shelf.

Nothing was in that safe but Ethan’s birth certificate and our social security cards, so I hadn’t bothered locking it up after I got the gun. I shoved the gun in, locked it, and went back through the beads.

I stopped at the sight of a barefoot Merry, leather jacket on the floor, shoulder holster with gun lying on the nightstand, his hands and shoulders moving to shirk off his unbuttoned shirt.

There was a lot of goodness that was Merry that I’d discovered the previous Friday.

His body was definitely a part of this.

I knew he had sinewy forearms because I’d seen him in tees. Those sinews writhed with movement in a way that I had to guard against watching or it would put me in a happy trance I might never want out of.

This, I’d learned Friday night (or actually Saturday morning), was just a hint at the tall, lean mountain of goodness that was Merry without clothes.

I would struggle to rank my favorite parts (outside of one in particular, which was obvious). He had great everything—shoulders, chest, biceps, abs, the hip V, his thighs.

But however that list came about, special mention would have to be made to the dark hair he had on his stomach. Not a heavy mat across his chest and down. The hair started on the upper ridge of his abs, spreading out and down, sparse and enticing.

It got better as it gathered and thickened at the center of the second ridge, down more, more, more, like a line on a map with the arrow at the end, pointing at buried treasure.

And one could definitely say the arrow at that particular end pointed to serious buried treasure.

“Babe.”

I started, my eyes darting from his crotch to his face.

Even though he caught me checking out his package, all he said was, “Tired.”

I nodded and moved to him.

I was barefoot too, in my jeans, tank, and bra from work. I stopped a couple of feet from him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was twisted to turn out the lamp beside my bed.

I saw the range of his ribs cutting down from the swell of his lat before the room was plunged into darkness.

I undid my belt buckle, the button, unzipped my fly, and pulled my jeans down my legs.

I’d barely straightened when he hooked an arm around my waist. I swallowed a yelp, noting he’d thrown back the covers, because when we hit the bed, we were in bed.

Merry tossed the covers over us, rolling so I wasn’t on top of him but we were on our sides, face-to-face. The roughness of his jeans gently scored the skin of my legs as he wound his in mine, leaned his weight in to me, his arm remaining around me, the other hand coming up to cup the back of my head.

He shoved my face in his chest.

It took a lot, but I didn’t rub it there. I wanted to, feeling him, smelling him, knowing he was there for the reasons he was, wanting to believe that what he was giving right then could be mine for eternity.

He’d made it clear he wanted me to take hold of that.

I just doubted his ability to really give it.

Not in the way I needed.

Not in the way that needed to be for Ethan and me.

I heard his head move on the pillow, then I felt his quiet words stir the top of my hair.

“Like your room.”

This surprised me.

For mental health purposes, I’d never allowed myself to consider the environs that would surround an at-home Garrett Merrick. But in that moment, I pictured lots of wood, some seascapes, a gun rack, and a very large TV.

“Don’t believe in ghosts but evidence points to the fact that the spirit of Janis Joplin puked all over your pad.”

I didn’t have a lot of room to move, but I was me, so I managed to sock him right in his tight stomach.

He emitted a soft grunt right before I heard chuckling.

I shifted so I could press my hands into his hard heat, not to push him away but to absorb the feel of him right there.

Life had not given me much, so I knew to take what it gave when it offered me a boon. Since it had offered me a boon, I was taking it. Tomorrow, I’d face the consequences.

Now…

Well, this I was taking for me.

I got the sense that Merry knew I wasn’t pushing away because he pulled me closer and leaned more of his weight into me.

I felt his hand tangle in my hair and I closed my eyes tight, taking that boon too, no matter how risky.

“You know I’m teasin’,” he whispered. “It’s cool and warm and all you.”

God, he had to stop. If he didn’t shut up, I’d start believing, and I’d believed before—twice—and except for getting Ethan, it had not lead to good things.

“I thought you said you were tired,” I noted.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“So shut up and sleep,” I ordered.

“Cher?”

“Callin’ my name isn’t sleeping, Merry.”

“You shut up and listen for a sec, we both can get some sleep.”

I shut up.

“No matter what, no matter how things go down—in life, with you and me—no matter I piss you off, no matter anything, sweetheart, promise me you’ll never block me bein’ able to get to you again.”

My eyes flew open.

Merry went on, “I don’t think I gotta convince you that you mean somethin’ to me. What I want you to know right now is, no matter the future, that’ll never change. If I gotta know things are good with you or with Ethan, I just gotta know. In the world we live in, don’t make it hard for me to get that information, baby.”

“I unblocked you about two seconds after you left us, Merry,” I whispered.

“All right. Good. But now I’m askin’, don’t block me again.”

“I won’t block you again, honey.”

The arm he had around me gave me a squeeze.

Shit, I had to give it to him.

Shit, shit, shit, there was no choice.

“I was pissed and I had reason,” I muttered into his skin, kinda hoping he couldn’t hear me. “But you were right. Callin’ in Tanner and the way he played it was what was needed.”

I didn’t get a squeeze at that.

He kissed the top of my hair.

He said no more. He didn’t rub it in. He didn’t push things to take advantage and gain more ground.

He just kissed the top of my hair and let it be.

God, he looked good, fucked great, liked my kid, liked my mom, liked me, was protective, smart, dressed well, drove an awesome ride, had a nice family, amazing friends, a solid job, was funny, thought I was funny, knew how to install countertops and skim walls, and he didn’t rub it in when he was right and I was…not.

Was he perfect?

And was I crazy?

“You’re not goin’ to sleep,” he noted.

“That’s because I’m freaking,” I shared openly.

“Tomorrow,” he stated.

“It is tomorrow, Garrett.”

I heard the smile in his voice when he said, “Right, then later today.”

“You can’t just turn off freaking, Merry.”

“Okay, then shut up, relax, and go to sleep, or, seein’ as your boy was probably tweaked at what went down tonight and isn’t sleeping soundly, I’ll need to haul your ass to my truck to fuck you until I exhaust you. And this doesn’t work for me because it’s had time to cool off, and a running truck on a street like yours is a curiosity. I don’t need your neighbors checkin’ things out and seein’ me doin’ you. That shit could get back to Ethan.”

“I’m suddenly finding myself very fatigued,” I announced, though it was a lie. I was suddenly finding myself not giving a shit if a running truck in my ’hood was a curiosity.

Merry chuckled.

That, just that, in my bed, in the dark, so close, might be the most beautiful sound in the world.

I drew in a deep breath and let it go.

Merry stopped chuckling and encouraged, “That’s it, baby.”

I drew in another deep breath and let it go.

Merry shifted his arm from around me but only so he could shove a hand up my tank and stroke the skin of my back.

At first, this caused a non-drowsy reaction since no man had ever touched me like that with the intention of relaxing me, and Merry’s touch felt a particular brand of good.

But surprisingly quickly, it did what he’d intended, and melting into his heat, I fell fast asleep.

* * * * *

I was in the kitchen making dinner. Ethan was doing his homework in the living room.

We were waiting.

Waiting for someone we loved to come home.

“Brown eyes.”

I went to the doorway of the kitchen. I knew he was home. I watched my son look to the front door. I turned my eyes there.

The door started to open. I felt my mouth curve into a smile even as I held my breath.

“Babe.”

My eyes opened. I blinked away my dream. Then I slid my gaze to the side and saw Merry, dressed all the way to his leather jacket, sitting on the bed beside me, his hand curled warm on the side of my neck.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispered.

Sleepyhead.

Merry.

Cute.

I was still half asleep, but I wasn’t out of it. I was there. Right there.

Hell, I didn’t know if I’d ever been as right there as I was right then, staring at a gorgeous man who fucked good, liked my kid, my mom, me, looked after us, thought I was worth it, and called me pretty.

This filling my head, I pushed up, adjusting so I could put my hand to his abs, feeling the soft, thick cotton of his shirt and the tight muscle underneath, and I blinked again as I moved in. Eyes to the cords of muscle around the strong column of his throat, one of my many favorite parts of all that was him, I aimed and landed a kiss right there.

“Cherie,” he whispered, his hand sliding from my neck up into my hair.

Cherie.

No one had ever called me that.

Not even my mom.

I liked it so much, it made me feel dizzy.

Or giddy.

Or both.

I didn’t know, I’d never felt that feeling.

But I knew it felt good.

Riding that feeling, I slid my lips up, over his jaw, his morning whiskers scraping my lips in a way I felt in my clit. I kept going even as his head twisted, angled. My lips glided over his and locked on.

Then I kissed him, open mouths, sliding my tongue inside.

He let me, not taking over or anything.

He tasted like toothpaste and Merry, an awesome combination.

The last thing I’d had the night before was a Baby Ruth bar and a can of Diet 7UP, but I figured that had long since worn off and maybe I didn’t taste so good.

I didn’t care. I went for it, drawing him in, my insides contracting like they were caving in on an empty that had to be filled or I’d shrink to nothing, and the only sustenance it would accept was a healthy dose of Garrett Merrick.

So I fed from him, trailing my hand up his shirt from his abs to his chest, my fingers clenching in, pulling him closer to me and going for more.

Merry gave it and kept giving until his groan throbbed through my pussy, making it contract.

He pulled his lips away and landed a peck on the side of my mouth before he moved back minutely and looked into my eyes.

“I like how you wake up, baby, but you got shit timing. I have to get Ethan to school.”

I stared up at him and slowly let his shirt go as I just as slowly turned my head to look at the alarm clock.

Ethan had to leave for school in exactly three minutes.

My alarm didn’t go off.

What the fuck?

I looked back to Merry. “Ethan’s ready for school?”

“Got up, got him up, got him doin’ his thing. I made him breakfast. He’s ready to roll. Just didn’t want you to wake up and freak, so I woke you to let you know he’s all good, I got him, and you can sleep in.”

I could sleep in?

Merry made my son breakfast?

Merry had him?

A fog filled my head as this knowledge processed through me.

Since he was born, mornings with Ethan were mine. With my work history, they were the only times that were guaranteed, him and me. For breakfast. When he was a baby, a toddler, a little kid, for cuddles. On the weekend, for hanging together and watching cartoons. Before school, shooting the shit and making sure he was good to face the day.

That was mine.

No one got that.

Not even my mom.

When I worked late, she stayed at my place and either slept on the couch if she was tired or went home when I got home. If I had to count on Feb, Vi, anyone, I went to go get my kid, shuffling him out half asleep to my car, helping him drop into his own bed.

It might not be right, making a kid switch beds in the middle of the night, but my kid woke up in his bed with his mom there to take care of him.

And he did not wake up with some guy in the house that he knew but he did not know what that man was to his mother.

The world might think I’m a stupid, skanky slut.

But my kid did not.

And he was never supposed to get that first inkling his mom was that kind of mom, that kind of woman.

Not ever.

Not…fucking…ever.

“You got my kid up,” I said to Merry.

“Yeah, babe, and now I gotta get him to school.”

“You got my kid up,” I repeated, and Merry’s head jerked.

Then his eyes went alert.

I moved quickly, throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed. I snatched my jeans up, shoved a foot in then the other. Yanking them up, I looked to Merry.

“You don’t get to do that shit,” I hissed quietly, doing up my fly. “You do not get to make that decision, Garrett. He’s my kid. I get his mornings.”

Something flooded his face, a sweet something, but I was not done.

Not by a long shot.

“You shoulda stayed in bed, or you shoulda got me up and got out before he got up. You do not make the decision your own damned self about what my kid knows, what he sees, or who looks after him.” I straightened and jabbed my thumb to myself. “I do.”

He stood, murmuring, “Cher—”

I got in his space, head tipped back, mouth still hissing. “You and I fucked once. Now you’re jackin’ my shit with your fucked-up head games, and that’s okay. That’s the way of the world. That happens to stupid bitches like me who do stupid shit like gettin’ shitfaced and lettin’ a man fuck her who’s drownin’ his sorrows because he’s in love with a woman he cannot have.”

Merry’s expression changed again, but I was too far gone to take note.

“But my son never knows his mother’s a stupid bitch like that. And he sure as fuck doesn’t find out that shit from some asshole who gets his rocks off jackin’ her around.”

His entire long, lean body jolted like he’d been struck, but I turned on my bare foot and stomped out of the room, happy to see that I had to open the door in order to do it, which meant Ethan wouldn’t have heard any of that.

I took a deep breath and another shallower one on my way so I at least had some of my shit together by the time I cleared the hall and came into my living room.

Ethan had his jacket on, his backpack on his shoulder, and when he saw me, he grinned.

“He told you, right?” he asked the minute he could get the words out. “Merry told you that Marty got ’im? Tackled him behind the freakin’ Dairy Queen.”

“Yeah, kid, he told me,” I confirmed.

“Marty’s so cool!” Ethan declared, saying words about Officer Marty Fink that only kids in that town eleven years old or younger would utter. “And get this, you know that waffle iron you bought at that garage sale that we used once and it conked out?” Before I could confirm that I knew the waffle iron he was referring to, he kept talking. “Merry opened it up, messed with some wires, and now it works.”

God.

Ethan said that like Merry came up with the cure for cancer in his sleep, called the FDA, and got them on it, and already, statues around the world were being planned to be erected in his honor.

It was worse than I thought.

“He made you some too, Mom. They’re in the oven, keepin’ warm,” Ethan told me.

“That’s cool, Ethan. Now, do you have your homework done?” I asked.

He looked confused at my non-excitement to his excitement-filled morning and answered, “Yeah, Mom. You asked me that last night.”

“Your gramma check it?”

“Yeah.” He was getting impatient. “You asked me that too.”

“Okay, warning,” I declared, moving closer to him. “Last night a bad guy was on the loose, so I’m taking my quota of gooey for the week right now. I’m gonna hug you before you go and you’re gonna have to put up with me tellin’ you I love you.”

My boy rolled his eyes, but I ignored it completely, getting close and taking him in my arms.

I hugged tight and went overboard, landing three quick kisses on his head, smelling the shampoo in his freshly cleaned, still slightly wet hair.

Christ, Merry also got him to shower. This was not big on Ethan’s hit list in the mornings (or ever).

Ethan wound his arms around his mom, gave me a quick squeeze, and let me go.

I took my cue and let him go too, but after I did, I lifted up my hand and playfully shoved the side of his head.

“Love you, kid. Be good.”

At this juncture, Merry came into play, opening the door and lifting his hand with his keys. We heard a faraway beep and I looked his way.

“Go on out, buddy. I gotta talk with your mom real quick, then I’ll be out.” He offered his keys. “You know how to start a car?”

My mouth got tight.

“Yeah! Sure!” Ethan lied, because he did not. Then again, he’d seen me do it often enough in his life and it wasn’t hard.

“Start ’er up, keep her in park, but get the heater runnin’,” Merry ordered.

“Right!” Ethan cried, grabbed the keys and looked to me. “’Bye, Mom.”

“Later, kid.”

He took off.

I watched, then looked again to Merry to see him also watching.

He turned to me only when the door on his Excursion slammed.

I opened my mouth.

Merry beat me.

“Any more shit gets found, Tanner’ll call you direct.”

I stood still and stared at him, the empty tone of his voice slamming into me as sure as if he was shouting.

“You should tell Ethan what’s up with his dad and that woman,” he advised, his voice still empty. “He should be in the know and aware if they try to pull anything.”

Okay, right, I’d reacted and I was right to do so. Merry had made a decision that wasn’t his to make.

But I was getting the impression that I may have taken my reaction a bit too far.

“Merry—”

“You like your head jammed right up your ass, Cheryl, have at it.”

Pain stabbed through my midsection.

He’d never called me Cheryl. To my recollection, not even back in the day when I still was Cheryl.

“Not that this’ll get through, but worth it to me to say it, so I’m gonna do that,” he stated. “No way in fuck would I involve myself in your kid’s life in the way I did this mornin’ unless I was goddamned, fuckin’ sure that I intended to be a part of his life and his mom’s life in a way that was healthy for all of us. May have jumped the gun with that, but there was a way to communicate that to me, and the way you did it was not that way.”

Yeah.

I’d taken it too far.

Fuckin’ sure that I intended to be a part of his life and his mom’s life in a way that was healthy for all of us.

Shit.

I’d taken it way too far.

I took a step toward him, but a nuance of change shifted over his frame and I stopped.

“Merry,” I whispered.

“You like it behind those walls in your fortress, Cheryl? Stay. I reckon it’s cold as fuck in there, but I also reckon that don’t matter to you. You’re used to it. Enjoy it in there, spinnin’ your wheels.”

With that as his parting shot, he turned to the storm door, opened it, and strode right through.

It whispered shut on its hinge, banging at the last when I didn’t catch it, but I did move to it.

And I stood in it, staring out as Merry got in his truck with my son.

Ethan looked to me and gave me a short wave.

Merry didn’t look to me.

He just drove away.

* * * * *

I sat with my cell in my hand at my kitchen table.

I had a mug of coffee on the table in front of me.

Coffee Merry had made me. Coffee he’d made me, wanting me to sleep in on my day off and then get to take it easy.

My mind was at war.

All the ugly things I’d said to Merry that morning that he didn’t deserve tormented me. I should have calmly explained how I felt about mornings with my kid. It should have leaked in that I was talking to Merry and he would cut off his own arm rather than give any impression to my son that I was less than Ethan thought me to be.

This and a lot of other things that had happened and had been said the last five days, not to mention the strong urging of my heart, made me want to engage my texts and send him the two short words that would tell him what I was feeling and give him what he deserved.

I’m sorry.

Another part of me—the dark, ugly part that kept me locked inside the cold, airless shell I’d created—thought this was good. It was over. It might all be over, everything Merry and I had, including our friendship, but that was okay.

I was safe from him and he was safe from me.

And I’d listened to my heart twice in my life.

I knew better.

Right then, it didn’t feel that way.

Right then, it felt like if I didn’t act immediately to fix the damage I’d inflicted on Merry and me that morning, I’d be making the biggest mistake of my life.

I lifted the coffee and sipped it.

It was very strong.

But it was good coffee.

Then I engaged my phone, my thumb moving over it.

I went to who I needed to go to and typed in a text to my mom.

Don’t know if you heard. They got him. It’s all good.

I hit send, took another sip of coffee, and stared out the window, my mind filled with Merry’s low, deep, beautiful but hollow voice.

My phone sounded and I looked down at it.

That’s good, sugar. And Garrett?

I pretended I didn’t know what Mom was asking and sent, He’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Marty Fink tackled the guy behind Dairy Queen.

Within seconds, she returned, Good to hear, Cher. But what your mother wants to know is why he was holding your hand last night or just why he was with my baby girl.

I hated doing it, but I didn’t want my mom to know just how incredibly stupid I was. She knew I could be stupid because I’d handed her a lot of stupid for twenty-five years before I started to get smart. She was now living in a world where her daughter was a little less stupid. She didn’t need to think I was sliding back.

So I lied.

He was just tweaked, I sent. Then added, He happened to be at the bar when he got the call. Worried that the dude was at large in our neighborhood. You know he’s a good guy, Mom.

I know that. I’m glad he’s OK, she returned, and in her first three words, even through a text, I actually felt her disappointment that a good guy like Merry wasn’t holding her daughter’s hand in the way she hoped he would.

Then again, he was.

And I’d fucked it up.

Shit.

Two words. I knew Merry would accept them. Easy to type them out.

I’m sorry.

I turned my attention back to my phone, hit what I had to hit, and put it to my ear.

It rang three times before Vi answered, “Hey, babe.”

“You got lunch plans today?” I asked.

“I do now,” she answered. “Frank’s? The Station? Feelin’ like Chinese?”

“My pad,” I told her.

“Cool,” she replied. “What time?”

“Noon good for you?”

“Yeah. And hey,” she went on, “Bobbie’s got mums on sale for half off and I got my tradesman discount. You want some for your outside pots?”