Hold On (The 'Burg Series Book 6)

by Kristen Ashley

“Need a fresh one too, Cher. And, just addin’ from my seat in the peanut gallery, I’d put money down on you.”

  Oh fuck.

  More warm and squishy.

  I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Well, look at you, Tony. Who knew you could be sweet?”

  “Figure you could, seein’ as I tip twenty percent.”

  “Oh, right. In case I haven’t shared the gratitude for that, brah, you got it now.”

  “I’d be grateful to get another drink,” Tony said.

  “I’m first,” Devin declared.

  “On it, Dev,” I said.

  And I decided to get on it.

  But first…

  It was a faulty play that didn’t go well for her, but that wasn’t my problem.

  She brought it, and since she was there, I had one thing to say.

  I looked to Mia to see she was preparing to slink out.

  “One thing, Mia,” I called, and she looked to me. “You throw a hissy fit again, go to Merry’s pissed you’re not gettin’ what you want and you shove him, repeatedly, he’s not gonna do dick to you because he’s not that guy.”

  We might have been losing folks’ attention since the scene was petering out, but with my words, we got it back.

  Though, I had drinks to make and tips to earn, so I wasn’t up for a show and, therefore, quickly finished.

  “I find out you cornered a good man like that again, I got no problem shovin’ back.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”

  I held her gaze direct and my one word had deep meaning. “No.”

  She glared at me. Then she glanced around, belligerence etched in her face. I didn’t take my eyes off her, but I suspected she did not get back what she thought she would see, people siding with her after I made my promise.

  She got something else after folks learned she’d put her hands on Merry.

  I knew it when her face started to get red, she darted another glare at me, and took off.

  I didn’t watch. I got on those drinks, feeling Darryl leave my back.

  I made Dev’s drink. I got Tony his.

  Then Tanner caught my attention by coming close to the bar where the altercation happened and not going back to his seat where Devin had returned.

  I looked up at him. “Need another one, Tanner?”

  “Need you to call Merry, Cher,” he said quietly, then slightly lifted a hand. “I get you roll with life, darlin’, take your hits and keep on rollin’.” He tipped his head to the door. “But that shit’s gonna hit his phone and fast, it hasn’t already done it. And he’s not gonna be real happy if one of the first calls doesn’t come direct from you.”

  My brows shot up. “Relationship advice from shit-hot PI Tanner Layne?”

  His lips curled up. “I get it regular, Cher. You want some a’ that for you, listen to a man who’s got it goin’ on.”

  He had a point.

  And he was totally good with me being with Merry.

  I nodded with my lips curling up too and reached to my back pocket to get my phone.

  “And I’ll take a fresh one,” Tanner finished.

  I got his fresh one, then I got Darryl to take the bar while me and my phone hit the office and I hit go on Merry’s contact.

  I barely had my cell to my ear before Merry answered.

  “You okay?”

  He’d heard.

  “Who called?” I asked.

  “Lore,” he told me. “Man didn’t hear what went down, just knew Mia showed and threw down.”

  Loren Smithfield. Resident player. He was right then playing pool at the same time scanning the joint for ass to tap.

  “I’m okay,” I assured.

  “Got some things I gotta finish up with Mike, then I’ll be in for a drink.”

  I’d take that because we’d been texting since lunch at Frank’s two days before, but I hadn’t seen him.

  Though, I didn’t want him to think he had to come in for me.

  “I’m really okay, Merry,” I told him.

  “I know you are. That’s you. You’re not okay, you find a way to be. That doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as shit my ex is bein’ a stupid bitch and draggin’ you into that. So I’m gonna be in to make sure you’re okay, and I’m gonna be in so I can be with you and not go find her and rip her a new asshole.”

  “Best play you got, seein’ as I’m not sure she’d feel a new asshole,” I muttered.

  Merry’s next sounded disbelieving. “Lore said Tanner waded in. He didn’t set her straight?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think like her, but I got the impression she’s all in and Tanner mighta delivered a few hits, but she’s feelin’ the need to prove something, so she’s gonna get back up and keep fighting.”

  “Fuck,” Merry muttered.

  I had no response because I didn’t know what to say. Not only had I never been in a situation like this, it was true, I didn’t think like Mia. I had no idea what she was planning and how those plans would be carried out.

  And worse, if they might wear Merry down.

  “Somethin’ you should know,” he said in a way that told me it was something I should know, but it was something I didn’t want to know.

  “Hit me,” I replied, even though I wasn’t big on taking another hit that evening.

  “Drew and Sean had the occasion to be in her development yesterday. Said the for sale sign on her house is down.”

  “She sell?” I asked hopefully, knowing that was stupid.

  It was always stupid for me to hope.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care and don’t wanna give the impression I do.”

  That was a good play.

  I again said nothing.

  “She doesn’t have it in her,” he said quietly.

  “Mm-hmm,” I replied.

  “Babe, not feelin’ dick about this except supremely pissed she had a go at you and equally pissed my hands are tied. I got no moves except ignoring her ass. Not a man who likes to be cornered, but there’s nothin’ I can do. I confront her, she’ll take that as attention and time I’m givin’ her and read it wrong. There’s no move but wait it out, play it smart, and give her nothing. She doesn’t have it in her to stay the course. She’s gonna give up.”

  “Merry, I’m at work,” I reminded him. “Darryl’s back of the bar. He can pull beers and uncap bottles but a mixed drink is a crapshoot. I gotta get back out there.”

  “Cherie,” his tone was now soft, “sorry as fuck she did what she did, but I’ll be sorrier, her doin’ that shit puts thoughts in your head that I’m not where I’m at with you, which, it’s important to note, is where I wanna be.”

  I drew in breath.

  He kept talking.

  “I’ll be there in an hour. If you’re down with it, follow you home and hang with you until Ethan goes to bed.”

  That’d work for me.

  “That’s a deal.”

  “Right, lettin’ you go. See you soon.”

  “See you soon, Merry.”

  I was about to hang up when he called, “Cher?”

  “Still here,” I told him.

  “Last coupla days, slowed things down,” he stated. “You were right, we hit hyperdrive. But you need to settle into this in a way you believe. And you also got a kid. He’s had you and he’s had all of you for eleven years. He digs me and doesn’t hide it. I like that. But I don’t need to all of a sudden be in your space and in his face every second of the day. Once, I went about winnin’ a woman. Never tackled the feat of winnin’ a family. Need you to know I’m in this with you and it’s a place I wanna be. Same time, need your boy to know that, you got me, he doesn’t lose you. He just gets me too. We take that time to do this smart, which means I give you and Ethan space along the way, I don’t want you to use that space to let shit fuck with your head.”

  Winnin’ a family.

  God.

  Merry.

  “All right, baby,” I whispered.

  “Don’t w
anna sound like a dick but also don’t wanna be assurin’ you constantly about where I’m at.” His voice dipped. “You need to believe in this, Cher.”

  It was hard for me to believe. For years, along with the rest of the ’burg, I’d lived the whole Mia-and-Merry-need-to-get-back-together thing.

  But he was right.

  I’d made a decision to give us a shot. I’d promised him I’d give it the best one I had. And I’d promised myself I was not going to fuck this up.

  And it had just been days and I was falling down on that job.

  “Roger that, boss,” I replied.

  “I’m spoutin’ important shit, she gives me the smartass.”

  “It’s me.”

  “It is.”

  He didn’t make it sound like it was a bad thing.

  “Are we gonna talk for the next hour so you’re only gonna be here for fifteen minutes before I get to go home to my kid and my guy? Or are we gonna hang up so you can get your shit done and come see me?”

  Merry didn’t reply.

  He hung up on me.

  Which was too bad since he couldn’t hear me laughing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Don’t Let Go

  Cher

  Ethan nearly knocked me off the couch when he shot off it to get to the door.

  A second earlier, he’d looked through the break in the curtains.

  I looked to the cable box.

  It was Thursday night, ten to six, and Merry was there.

  I turned my head left and saw Ethan throw open the front door and unlock the storm.

  He waited a beat…two…three…all while I suspected Merry was walking up the walk.

  Then he shouted, “Hey, Merry!”

  I studied my son, wondering if Merry read the situation with him right.

  Ethan had totally been down with Merry hanging with us and watching TV the night before.

  And he was totally down with Merry walking up our walk and going to his gramma’s for a family dinner.

  It didn’t appear Ethan needed space.

  It appeared Ethan was like me and just needed Merry.

  “Hey, man.” I heard Merry’s voice, and that was when I pushed out of the couch, grabbing the remote.

  I was turning their way at the same time switching off the TV when Merry walked in and gave Ethan a man-to-man handshake.

  They’d let go when Ethan informed him, “Gram’s makin’ her meatloaf.” He lifted a hand and shook it in a don’t-be-disappointed gesture. “I know it sounds like it sucks. But it doesn’t. Gram’s meatloaf is the freaking bomb. It’s like a huge hamburger baked with ketchup on top. She usually puts onions in it, though she won’t do that tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” Merry told him.

  “Then she makes this tater tot casserole to go with it. It’s crazy good.”

  Merry grinned. “Sounds like it’s a good thing I’m hungry.”

  Merry’s comments did not deter Ethan from his information sharing. “And fried corn.”

  “Can’t call yourself a Hoosier unless you got fried corn stuck in your teeth at least once a week,” Merry replied.

  Ethan burst out laughing.

  “Okay, kid, now that you’ve broken down the menu,” I said, moving toward them. “Maybe we can get to your gramma’s and eat it.”

  Ethan quit laughing and looked at me. “You just want me to shut up so you can be gooey with Merry.”

  “That and I’m hungry,” I returned.

  “Whatever,” he muttered to me and looked to Merry. “While you get gooey with Mom, can I go out and start your truck?”

  As an answer, Merry tossed Ethan his keys.

  “Right on!” Ethan shouted after he caught them.

  He wasted no time rushing to the bucket chair to grab his jacket and then he raced out of the house.

  The storm door whispered and banged.

  I looked to Merry.

  “Get over here and give me gooey,” he ordered.

  The essence of hotness: a badass capable of uttering the word “gooey,” doing that shit and making my clit tingle.

  I wasted no time either.

  Merry met me halfway probably with a dual purpose, the second part of that being we were not in the door where Ethan could see when Merry took me in his arms, bent and laid a wet one on me.

  When he was done I was wishing we had all kinds of time to be gooey.

  Since we didn’t, I warned, “Don’t let Mom steal you away with her tater tot casserole. Just so you know, I have the recipe.”

  Merry held me close in his arms and smiled at me.

  My kid. My guy. My mom. Her tater tot casserole. And Merry smiling at me.

  There it was again.

  Fucking happy.

  * * * * *

  “This is delicious, Grace,” Merry told my mother.

  We were sitting at Mom’s kitchen table.

  Ethan was shoveling his gramma’s food in his mouth like he’d been told he was getting nothing but C rations for the next year after that meal.

  I was freaking.

  This was because somewhere between leaving my house and sitting at Mom’s table, something had happened to Merry.

  Something extreme.

  Gone was the mellow, funny guy he gave my kid. Gone was the thoughtful, gentlemanly guy he gave my mom. And gone was the teasing, hot guy he gave me.

  He was quiet to the point he was distant, like he was there but he didn’t want to be.

  Worse, he wasn’t hiding that.

  At all.

  Those four words were the first he’d spoken since conversation had awkwardly died when both mom and me sensed Merry retreating.

  “Thank you, Garrett,” Mom replied. “I’m glad you like it.”

  He nodded to her once, didn’t further engage, just turned back to eating.

  My heart sank to my stomach.

  That was so not Merry.

  Mom looked at me and I instantly saw that her enthusiasm at having a new addition to her family dinner, this being a good guy who was into her daughter, had died.

  She wasn’t freaking like me.

  She was disappointed.

  Then again, she didn’t go all out for dinner, cleaning her house, even putting out flowers Merry would most definitely see and know that was an outlay Mom didn’t splurge on often (her doing it to show Merry he was making the right choice of possibly wanting to be a part of this family) to have him act like the last place he wanted to be was there.

  I had nothing for my mom, nonverbally and definitely not verbally, to explain what was going on with Merry.

  What I wanted was to kick him in the shin, this my way of telling him to snap out of it at the same time asking him what the fuck was his problem.

  That was the Cher way of dealing with things.

  But after nearly blowing it with Merry, I needed to learn not to do shit like that. I couldn’t react, mouth off, or do something stupid and then face the consequences later. Not without risking fucking us up, and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do that.

  But this wasn’t Merry. Not even a little bit. I’d never seen him like this. Even when Tanner and Rocky were on the bumpy path of their reunion, something neither Merry nor his dad hid was just as bumpy for them, he didn’t get like this. Not when he had a shitty case he was investigating that took time and effort that, in the end if he closed it, only allowed him to give a small measure of relief to the people who’d had their lives irrevocably altered when the shit of life buried them under the stink.

  “I hear you have a boat,” Mom noted, attempting to snap Merry out of it by engaging him in conversation.

  “Yep,” he told his plate.

  He said no more.

  Well, that didn’t work.

  “You got a boat?” Ethan piped up excitedly.

  That got him. Merry looked to my son, the blankness leaving his face, and it softened.

  “I do, bud,” he said quietly. “But, just to say, it’s for sale.”

/>   I stared at him because I had no clue he was selling his boat. I’d actually never been officially informed he had a boat.

  I didn’t do healthy relationships until now (arguably, especially at this moment), but that seemed like something to share, say, when he was hanging at J&J’s having a drink. Or perhaps when we were making out on my couch and feeling each other up last night after Ethan went to sleep. Or during dinner at Swank’s, waffles at my place, lunches (plural) at Frank’s, or in one of what I was now seeing were the not-very-informative texts he’d sent me.

  “Why are you selling it?” Mom asked.

  Merry looked to her. “In the market to get a house. Got a realtor; she sent some listings. Looked through eighteen of ’em. Didn’t like what I saw except for two, both outside my price range. To make ’em in my price range, I gotta liquidate some things for the down payment.”

  I kept staring at him, because selling your boat might not be something that you’d share with the woman in your life but buying a house definitely was.

  I wanted to be smart. Not get ticked or more freaked but instead twist that to something happy.

  First, Merry out of that crappy apartment. Second, the idea he was doing that now, after he’d decided to take a shot at an us with me.

  But the way he gave Mom that information, void of emotion, didn’t sit well with me.

  Mom didn’t care about the void-of-emotion part.

  She went straight to the twisting.

  “You’re in the market for a house?” Her voice was an octave higher, filled with hope and excitement.

  “Yeah, Grace. Don’t live in a great place. Time to move on,” Merry answered, no inflection in his tone at all.

  Mom gave happy eyes to me.

  Ethan declared, “A boat is better than a house.”

  “You don’t have my view, buddy,” Merry replied.

  “View is always better from a boat,” Ethan informed him.

  Finally, one side of Merry’s lips curled up. “Can’t argue that.”

  “Have more corn, Garrett,” Mom urged, seeing his plate almost clean and picking up the bowl of corn.

  “Prefer seconds of that casserole, Grace,” he returned.

  She dropped the corn so fast it clattered and nabbed the casserole.

  With Merry reengaged (sort of), the rest of dinner and dessert went okay.

  Not great.

  Just okay.