Hold On

by Kristen Ashley

  “This time I do you, I’ll be lookin’ in your eyes.”

  I liked it like that.

  Enough to lift my head and press my lips to his.

  He pushed back so my head was to the pillow and opened his mouth.

  Our tongues tangled at the same time.

  Merry didn’t do me looking in my eyes the whole time.

  But it was me who lost eye contact when he made me come.

  I would find out later I did draw blood on his back. Two lines, one deeper than the other along his shoulder blade.

  I was careful as I washed them in the shower. I gooed them up with Neosporin before we snarfed down donuts.

  But the ointment ended up on Merry’s sheets.

  What could I say?

  We had the whole day.

  We were young, healthy.

  We loved each other.

  And that was worth a repeat.

  We loved each other.

  I loved Merry and Merry loved me.

  Life was good.

  For once.

  With a hopeful forecast for the future.

  Finally.

  So it was time to fuck.

  * * * * *

  Saturday Night

  “Babe?”

  I was nearly asleep, fucked out and cuddled into my man.

  “Mm?”

  “Keep an eye, open communication, it happens again, you got shit messin’ with your head, we talk. You need it, we take you to Doc.”

  I opened my eyes.

  My man took care of me.

  I closed them again.

  “Whatever you want,” I whispered.

  He pulled me closer.

  “Love you, brown eyes,” he murmured.

  Yeah.

  Life was good.

  “Love you too, Merry,” I replied.

  Not long after, snuggled to Garrett Merrick, I fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  Garrett

  Sunday Morning

  Cher was in a certain mood.

  That mood was moving her to taste him, slow and light, everywhere.

  He liked it a fuckuva lot, but they’d been busy. He had news he hadn’t shared.

  “Baby,” he called.

  “Mm?” she murmured against his abs.

  “Come up here,” he ordered.

  She lifted her eyes to him. “Headed in a different direction, honey.”

  He grinned. “Come here a sec.”

  She studied him a beat before she slid up until they were face-to-face.

  She rested her chest against his.

  “What?” she asked quietly.

  “There were a lot of variables, wanted to make sure it all went down—the inspection, what I asked to be fixed, what I was gonna suck up—so I didn’t tell you just in case it fell through. It all got worked out. Now I can tell you. Got an offer on the condo coupla weeks ago, took it. Sold the boat. I used that and savings as the down payment. Closing is set for Thursday on the house.”

  She stared into his eyes. “What house?”

  “Lake house,” he told her. “I close on this place in three weeks. Get that money, use some of it to do some updates. But I’m gonna have to live there while they get done.”

  “You’re closing on the lake house.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That house you showed me on your laptop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re closing on that.”

  He grinned again. “Yeah.”

  “You’re gonna live there?”

  His grin got bigger. “That’s what I said.”

  “Ethan and me get sleepovers?”

  They’d start with that.

  They’d end with him having a lake house that looked like Jim Morrison bought the place, not Garrett.

  He rolled her and answered, “Oh yeah.”

  She was now on the bottom, staring up at him.

  She did this awhile without speaking.

  Then she declared, “For a housewarming, I get to buy you a kickass grill.”

  He’d let her do that.

  “You’re on.”

  “And twenty tiki torches.”

  Garrett burst out laughing.

  When he was done, he saw she was smiling.

  His brown-eyed girl…happy.

  He knew a way to make her happier.

  And he was on top.

  So he dipped down and set about doing that.

  In the end, he succeeded.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  No Room for Tears

  Cher

  Thursday Morning, Mid-December

  “We should do Christmas here,” Ethan said to Merry and me while sitting at the breakfast bar in Merry’s awesome new house, shoveling in some of Merry’s pancakes. “We can open presents, then go out and ice skate on the lake or something.”

  “Kid, it hasn’t even snowed,” I reminded him. “There’s about a half a centimeter rim of ice that runs the edge of the lake and that’s it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get a deep freeze between now and then.”

  “We don’t have ice skates,” I went on.

  “That would be why we’d go out after we open presents. And just sayin’, ice skates are a big fat no. Hockey skates, though…” He let that hang.

  And there it was. Shared with all the finesse of a hammer.

  My kid wanted hockey skates for Christmas.

  This did not fill me with joy. Hockey skates might lead to hockey lessons and hockey probably cost a mint. I didn’t have a mint nor would I ever.

  But if my kid wanted hockey skates then hockey lessons, I’d find a way.

  I just wished he’d turn his attention to Frisbee. A Frisbee champion needed functioning limbs and a plastic disc. Ethan luckily already had functioning limbs and I figured even the most expensive Frisbee you could get cost less than hockey skates.

  On this thought, Merry spoke.

  “Bud, don’t have any decorations and your place is already all set up, seein’ as we spent twelve hours straight decorating it a week ago and now it looks like Santa vomited all over the joint.”

  Ethan busted out laughing.

  I turned and glared at Merry.

  Merry, not sitting but bent over his plate at the bar opposite Ethan, turned his attention from his plate of pancakes to me.

  “What?” he asked, one side of his lips tipped up.

  “I like Christmas,” I snapped.

  “I can tell,” he replied.

  Ethan kept laughing.

  “I got a kid,” I stated. “You decorate for Christmas when you have a kid.”

  “Mom, I quit believing in Santa Claus when I was six,” Ethan reminded me of the dire day he imparted that information on me, information he’d learned from some snot at school who had an older brother and sister, both of whom had big mouths as did Ethan’s snot friend. “Now I’m nearly twelve. I’m totally over the over-the-top Christmas stuff.”

  “Yes, you did stop believing in Santa when you were six,” I confirmed. “You also quit getting presents from him when you quit believing in him. Think about that for a second, smart guy.”

  The look on Ethan’s face told me he was thinking about it and I’d made my point.

  I didn’t rub it in.

  But I did keep at him.

  “And you’re not nearly twelve. You’re eleven and two months. That isn’t even close to nearly twelve.”

  I was right, of course. It wasn’t.

  But it was more that I couldn’t think of my kid as “nearly twelve.” This meant, after that, he’d be nearly thirteen and then nearly fourteen and then nearly out of the house, off to college, then getting married to some bitch who better treat him right or I’d cut her.

  So no.

  I couldn’t think of Ethan being nearly twelve until he actually was nearly twelve.

  “Just sayin’, babe,” Merry started, and I looked down at him. “Dudes and chicks are different. Women spend most of their lives denying
their age. Men spend theirs living for retirement.”

  This was true.

  And it sucked.

  “That’s because chicks stop bein’ hot at around thirty-five and men can be hot for, like, ever,” Ethan declared, and I turned my now-far-more-intensified glare to him.

  He was impervious and I knew this when he kept talking.

  “I mean, look at Colt. He’s, like, borderline old guy, and he still totally has it.”

  “And Feb doesn’t?” I asked.

  My kid looked to me. “She’s an exception.”

  “You do know I turn thirty-five in two months,” I reminded him.

  He grinned at me. “You’re an exception too.”

  “You totally are,” Merry muttered.

  My head whipped Merry’s way. “You could help here, you know.”

  Merry looked to my son and said as if by rote, “Ethan, women are attractive at any age.”

  Ethan grinned at my man and replied, “Right.”

  I decided Merry would get another blowjob around the time Ethan turned twelve.

  But I had a lesson to teach, so I’d deal with that later.

  “So, prior to your twelfth birthday, I’ll tell Feb, Rocky, Dusty, Frankie, and Vi you think they’re all past it,” I declared. “And before your gramma goes out for the big stuff for you for Christmas, I’ll tell her you think she’s totally past it.”

  “They’re all exceptions too. Even Gram. I wouldn’t know, obviously, but Teddy’s grandpa said she’s a looker,” Ethan returned.

  “So who isn’t an exception?” I asked.

  Ethan looked like he was thinking about it.

  Then he broke into a big grin and stated, “Maybe I spoke all hasty.”

  “See, baby, you got a smart kid. You give him time, he’ll get to it,” Merry said.

  “You both are annoying me,” I announced, though this was really a lie. I thought they were pretty hilarious. Annoyingly hilarious but still hilarious. I reached out to grab Ethan’s empty plate. “And it’s time for work and school, so you can quit annoying me by gettin’ on the road.”

  I grabbed my own plate too, turning toward the sink, hearing Merry talking. “Your mom’s right, buddy. Let’s hit it. Teeth. Backpack. Coat. And grab a scarf and gloves. It’s cold out there. Yeah?”

  “’Kay, Merry.”

  I turned on the tap to run water over butter and maple syrup residue, completely unable to continue even pretending to be annoyed after hearing Merry tell my boy to grab a scarf and gloves.

  I watched Merry’s hand put his plate on top of the other ones in the sink as I felt his other hand light on my hip.

  “Easy to get a tree, grab some cheap ornaments, and put it up. I’ll even get one of those big blow-up snowmen for the front yard, you and Ethan wanna do Christmas here,” he said in my ear.

  “I can’t do Christmas unless Santa has anointed my house with Christmas vomit,” I told the sink. “You up for that?”

  I heard his chuckle and felt the heat of him come closer as his hand slid from my hip to my belly.

  “We’ll get an air mattress. Ethan can sleep on that in one of the extra rooms. Grace can sleep in Ethan’s room. Everyone comfortable. Do presents here, breakfast, then later, go to Rocky and Tanner’s. Dad’ll be there. Vera and Devin too. Jasper and Tripp as well, Keira attached at Jasper’s hip, like usual. Big family thing when we do Christmas dinner.”

  Big family thing.

  A big family thing that Merry wanted.

  But he wanted that family thing to start here, in his house, with what we were building.

  I closed my eyes.

  Ethan had a room at Merry’s and it was definitely his room. Not a junk room. Nothing was in the closet but some of my kid’s clothes. Shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush in the crappy bathroom Ethan used that Merry was going to gut after Christmas and redo.

  The roof, furnace, AC, and windows had been first, obviously, and Merry hadn’t fucked around with those. He had us there and he had that frequently, he’d told me, so he took care of that right away. Right away, as in, he had work scheduled to start practically the day after he moved in.

  I had clothes in Merry’s closet and doubles of all my stuff (except makeup—that required an investment, but I had bits and bobs, so I was getting there) in his crappy master bath.

  We were all but moved in.

  And now—Merry’s house being so big, the great room a place where we could all be together, Ethan liking showing off its awesomeness to his buds so sleepovers continued to be frequent (they just happened at Merry’s), and Merry pretty much taking over the care of my kid when I was at work nights or evenings—we were mostly here.

  We might sleep at my place once or twice a week.

  But Merry’s place was becoming home.

  This was intentional. He gave both of us sets of keys the day he’d closed on the house. The first night we stayed over, which was the first night he was in the house since we’d helped him move, we found he’d bought an Xbox so Ethan would have all he needed to feel at home. And he told me to pack us both and make it so we weren’t lugging bags back and forth all the time.

  “Settle in, baby. You and Ethan,” he’d whispered to me in the dark that first night in his house. “I think we’re all past the idea of sleepovers.”

  I was. Definitely.

  My kid would go to the ends of the earth for Merry, so I figured he was too.

  I just didn’t know Merry was at that place.

  But I was glad to know.

  And the next day, I settled us in.

  Right then, however, I knew just what place Merry actually was in.

  And it was even better.

  I turned in his arm at the sink, looking up at him.

  “You want Christmas,” I whispered my guess.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Didn’t wanna say anything, but since Ethan mentioned it and seems he’s good with it, there it is.”

  “Then we’ll have Christmas here. I’ll talk to Mom.”

  He smiled down at me and I saw excitement in his face that made my badass Merry into my badass Merry who could be cute.

  “Thanks, baby,” he murmured, bent in and touched his mouth to mine. When he lifted up, he said, “Since you’re off today, I’ll go get a tree and we’ll decorate it tonight. You got time to go out and get some ornaments? Lights? Whatever else we need?”

  Did I have time for Christmas decoration shopping during Christmas shopping season, when the population at large should be at its best but was undoubtedly at its worst, doing this for a tree for Garrett Merrick’s awesome new lake house?

  I totally had time.

  “I have time,” I confirmed.

  He looked like he was fighting laughter, which was telling me I wasn’t hiding my enthusiasm for that day’s chores, when he said, “Cheap shit, babe. Just to get us by. I have a feeling next year I’m gonna have more Christmas crap than anyone needs by a long shot.”

  My exciting new plans for the day flew straight from my head.

  “What?” I asked.

  Merry didn’t repeat his feelings about what would happen in the next year, which, my guess, included Ethan’s and my Christmas stuff being at his awesome new lake house.

  Instead, he got bossy.

  “Go to Bobbie’s. Ask Vi if you can use her discount. Get those plastic tubes of ornaments, the ones that are twelve for a buck. Get a couple. And some lights. But don’t mess around with the lights, babe. You should always invest in good lights. Next year, we’ll find a way to use the extras.”

  I blinked, what Merry said earlier going straight from my head.

  “Twelve-for-a-buck ornaments? Only a couple tubes?” I asked.

  “How many you need?” he asked back.

  “I don’t know. Are you buying a proper Christmas tree or a Charlie Brown Christmas tree?”

  His head jerked back like that question was an affront.

  “First Christmas here with you, Ethan, and Grace, I’m
not gonna get a shit-ass tree.”

  That was nice.

  However…

  “So what you’re saying is, the good part, the part I like, you want twelve-for-a-buck ornaments, two tubes of them, but you’re gonna get a nice tree and you want me to go whole hog on the lights because you have a dick and lights have a plug and that’s the way of the world.”

  Merry was no longer affronted.

  His lips were twitching.

  “You want three tubes of ornaments? Knock yourself out.”

  Thirty-six ornaments on a full Christmas tree.

  Not gonna happen.

  “I’ll get what I get,” I declared.

  Merry’s face again lost its humor. “Serious, Cher, we’ll have your shit here next year and we don’t need decorations for two trees.”

  I was back to thinking about Merry’s plans for the upcoming year.

  “We’ll have my shit here next year?”

  “Yeah.”

  I waited for him to say more.

  He didn’t say more.

  “Did I miss the invitation to move in with you?” I asked.

  His humor yet again returned. “No.”

  I waited for him to say more.

  Again, he didn’t.

  “Are you gonna steal my decorations so you have them next year?” I asked.

  His amused face got close.

  “No, baby. I’m gonna put in two decent bathrooms. Then I’m gonna buy better furniture because my shit sucks. After that, after we’re all good and used to each other and I got a nice home to offer my woman and her boy, a real home, a comfortable home, I’m gonna invite them to move in with me. When they accept, I’m gonna have to accept all her shit. There’s a lot of it and it includes fifteen boxes of Christmas crap. And don’t deny you got fifteen boxes, sweetheart, because Ethan and I lugged every one of those fuckers out of your garage, and when we did, we counted them.”

  He said the last quickly because I’d opened my mouth.

  He also didn’t stop talking.

  “So, to end, we’ll have your shit here next year, so we don’t need expensive stuff for the tree we have this year.”

  “The master is pretty big, gorgeous,” I said quietly. “We could put a tree in there next year with our new decorations.”

  His expression got more amused. “Jesus, Cherie, no one needs a tree in their bedroom.”

  “But I want one.”

  “Then get what you want to decorate this year, and next year, we’ll put a tree in our bedroom.”