Hold On (The 'Burg Series Book 6)

by Kristen Ashley

  And okay was so…not…Merry.

  After we were done, Mom shooed the boys out so the women could do the dishes, something she’d normally never do because she wasn’t about “women’s work” unless that work involved pushing out babies, which was only women’s work due to biology.

  Which meant she wanted to be alone with me to hash out what was going on with Merry.

  The guys hit the living room and I hit the sink, wanting to hash out what was going on with Merry too. The problem with that was, in this scenario, it was me who had to provide the information and I had no clue.

  Mom got close with the meatloaf platter and a Tupperware container.

  “Garrett’s being strange. Are you two okay?” she asked under her breath, seeing as her house was nearly as tiny as mine and they were in the next room.

  I thought we were.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine the way Merry was at dinner had one thing to do with him and me.

  I just couldn’t think of what it did have to do with.

  “Yeah,” I told her.

  “He wasn’t him…” She paused. “At all.”

  “Yeah,” I repeated.

  “Except with Ethan,” she revised.

  At least there was that.

  “You need to talk to him, honey-sicle,” she advised.

  I looked from filling the sink with soapy water, to my mom.

  “Maybe I should let this slide,” I suggested.

  Her face started to go mom-like, so I rushed on.

  “We’re new, Mom. Still feelin’ each other out. It’s only been a week since our first date. Not your fault, I was all for it, but maybe dinner at the mom’s house was too soon.”

  This was a possible option of what was going on with Merry.

  But even as it came out of my mouth, I didn’t buy it.

  “He’s sat at that table before, Cheryl,” she reminded me, swinging her hand to the kitchen table. “I fed him and Mike when they helped out with my house, and I fed him lunch when he was takin’ care of my walls. He filled his plate with food from that table when I had Ethan’s ninth birthday party. Stuffed his face from that table at last year’s Christmas party. He is not a stranger to this house. He’s not a stranger to me or Ethan. But he was a stranger tonight.”

  She was right.

  I looked back to the water filling the sink and turned it off. I was shifting to go to the table to grab plates, but I stopped when Mom’s hand caught my forearm.

  I gave her my eyes.

  “Whole town’s watchin’, you know that,” she said quietly. “Whole town’s waitin’ to see what comes of you and Garrett Merrick. Figure most of ’em are rootin’ for you two. Same’s I figure most of ’em think you’re gonna go down in flames, that bein’ you who ignites that blaze or, due to history in this scenario, more likely it bein’ him.”

  Her hand left me, but she didn’t quit talking.

  “I know my girl. I know you want everyone to think you don’t care what they think. But I also know you care about that man in there.”

  She jerked her head toward the wall on the other side of which was her living room.

  She then kept going.

  “It is no secret Tanner Layne had his hands full beatin’ back the demons that plagued the woman he loved, demons that drove her away from the only man for her and she knew he was just that. She still let those demons win, sugar. Story told so often in this town, I know. Everyone knows. And what we know is Tanner made one mistake in all that. In the beginning, he gave up. But Raquel put up a hell of a fight to make him quit and they were young so neither of ’em knew better. You and Garrett are not at that place.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her she wasn’t wrong, and more (something I had to chew on), Mia’s fatal mistake was giving up too.

  But Mom wasn’t done speaking.

  “Like I said, I know my girl. So I know my girl’s a fighter. Now, don’t you make the mistake of doin’ somethin’ you’re tellin’ yourself is right, givin’ him space and time to sort his own self out, when you know it’s wrong. Garrett Merrick didn’t sit at my table tonight, honey. And you need not to waste any time findin’ out what took him away from that table, which meant he took himself away from you.”

  “There’s a lot goin’ on that you don’t know, Mom,” I shared.

  I shared it and it was lame.

  “I know this,” she returned instantly. “I know he knows he sat at my table as the man who brought my two babies in his truck to my home to eat my food with the possibility he’d be at that table a lot in future. He knows me, but he knows what tonight meant. So he would know not to mess that up, no matter what’s goin’ on.”

  “He was just quiet,” I told her.

  “He wasn’t quiet, Cheryl. Half the time he wasn’t even here.”

  She was right and she was also telling me not to fuck this up.

  I was just so good at fucking things up, I didn’t know another way to be.

  And the biggest part about that was, Merry’s retreat scared the shit out of me.

  Mia Merrick didn’t have it in her to fight for her man and I had no problem pointing that out.

  Faced with just a taste of what she’d had shoved down her throat, the acid of it burned.

  And if I let my head go there, the scary it was would be terrifying.

  “Talk to him,” Mom urged on a whisper. “I’ll tell you this, baby girl, that happened tonight at my table and you have to deal. Because that man’s got a woman in his life now, a woman with a son. And he’s lookin’ for a house. And that says other things. I’m not tellin’ you to get things straight with him because I want my girl’s hooks in a good man. I’m tellin’ you to get things straight for him because I know what he’s got with you. I know what my grandbaby will give him. I know that man is far from stupid. I know he deserves good in his life. And I know he’ll kick his own behind and not bounce back from that, he lets you slip through his fingers.”

  I loved my mom. I’d fucked her over like I’d fucked a lot of shit in my life.

  But I loved her because I did all that and she still said what she just said, which meant she loved the hell out of me.

  I looked into her eyes. Then I nodded.

  After that, I headed to the table to get the dishes.

  It was a school night, so even though we had some time to visit after the dishes were done, we didn’t have a lot.

  And through that time, Merry again gave Ethan what he needed but only what he had to give to Mom and me.

  This meant she gave me a telling look after the hug we exchanged before we left. But she pretended like it was all good with the warm hugs and good-byes she gave Merry and Ethan.

  Ethan chattered on the way home. Ethan chattered when we got home. And Ethan didn’t hide his disappointment when I shared it was bedtime.

  He didn’t fight me, though, because it actually wasn’t bedtime. It was half an hour after bedtime, so he knew he’d already gotten a reprieve.

  What freaked me (further) was that Merry took Ethan’s bedtime as his opportunity to leave rather than what we did last night after Ethan went to bed—taking time, being together, whispering to each other, laughing quiet so we wouldn’t wake my kid up, and making out.

  He gave Ethan another man-to-man handshake.

  He gave me a distracted kiss on the cheek.

  Then he took off.

  The only good part about this was that my son was growing up and there wasn’t a lot he didn’t notice. But he wasn’t grown up enough to know that a man like Merry didn’t kiss his woman good night like that.

  Obviously, I didn’t educate him.

  I got him to bed and then I sat on my couch with my phone in my hand.

  I started a dozen texts.

  I couldn’t figure out which words to use, so I erased everything.

  I looked at the clock, then I turned my head and looked at the wall, well beyond which was the house that Tilly lived in.

  And Till
y was a late-night talk show girl.

  “Started the habit with Johnny Carson, honey, a habit that’s hard to break,” she’d told me.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, which would mean talking myself into fucking things up with Merry, I pulled my boots back on, grabbed my purse, my jacket, and my keys, and headed out.

  Tilly’s house was quiet and dark except for the flickering light of a TV coming from her curtains.

  I knocked not too loud but also called out, “Tilly, it’s Cher.”

  The door opened almost immediately and I looked down at the round woman with curly hair that was an equal mix of black and steel, who had big blue eyes in a face as round as her body.

  “Is everything okay, Cher?”

  “Listen, I know this is askin’ a lot, but I need to ask if you’d go over and stay with Ethan. He’s sleepin’, but I…” Shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck. “I don’t know if you heard, but I’m seein’ Garrett Merrick and there are some important things I gotta talk about with him. We couldn’t do that with Ethan around, and Merry went home before we got to it. It’s not stuff you can talk about over the phone either. I know this is selfish, but I can’t sleep, Till. I gotta go over to Merry’s and talk things out.”

  “I’m in my slippers, hon. Let me get my shoes,” she said instantly.

  Totally a good neighbor.

  And she’d so totally heard about me and Merry.

  She got her shoes.

  I followed her over to my house and sat in my car until I saw the door close behind her. Then I sat in it until I saw my curtains flickering with the late show on TV.

  After that, I backed out.

  I hit Merry’s complex, and before I could turn tail and do the easy thing rather than doing what I’d promised him I would do and give us the best shot I could give, I got out of my car and hauled my ass up to his place.

  There was a window in his apartment that faced the landing. No light.

  I knocked as loud as I could without being obnoxious to him or his neighbors.

  It took too much time (probably ten seconds) before dim light came from the blinds at his front window. I heard the locks go and the door was opened.

  Not opened.

  Hauled open.

  “Fuck, Cher, is everything okay?”

  I looked up at his face, lit by the outside lights on his landing, and saw distant-Merry was not with me.

  He looked worried.

  But he smelled like cigarettes and it hit me it’d been a while since I’d smelled that on Merry.

  “I don’t know, baby, is it?” I asked carefully.

  “Where’s Ethan?” he asked in return, his gaze flicking beyond me.

  “Tilly’s at the house keepin’ an eye on things until I get back.”

  Merry’s eyes narrowed when they came back to me. “Babe, it’s nearly eleven.”

  I knew that. I just didn’t know why he was telling me that. He couldn’t be so far gone he didn’t know why I was there.

  Could he?

  “We have to talk,” I told him.

  “About what?” he asked.

  “About you checkin’ out at dinner tonight.”

  There it was. I saw it happen and it freaked my shit right out.

  The door closed on his soul and that was written all over his face.

  “I didn’t check out at dinner tonight,” he lied.

  “Merry—”

  “I had my ass in a seat, eatin’ tater tot casserole, and you were right there with me.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  His brows snapped together. “You mean to make problems that aren’t there?”

  Seriously?

  “Merry, you checked out.”

  He shook his head at the same time he sighed. “Get back to Ethan, Cher.”

  I lifted a hand. “Merry—”

  “It’s late. Get back to your kid.”

  “Dammit, Merry,” I snapped. “Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “Boss, you are not talkin’ to a princess who could climb on top of a mattress, feel a pea, and bitch about that shit. You’re talkin’ to me—a real woman who knows what’s important,” I snapped. “And you checked out tonight. Now, you gotta know that I know, like every-fuckin’-body knows, a Merrick checks out, you don’t dick around with checkin’ him back in.”

  His face went hard. “We’ll talk about this on Saturday.”

  So there was something to talk about.

  And he wanted to wait until Saturday. Two whole days for him to retreat further from me?

  “We’ll talk about it now.”

  “Listen, Cher, I do not need another woman at my door wantin’ a chat with me when I do not want that shit.”

  A low blow, pairing me with Mia to push me away.

  I stared at him.

  Then I pushed right in.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  I went to the back of his couch, threw my bag and keys in the seat, and turned to him, yanking my jacket off.

  “Know this play too,” he stated. “Not in the mood to chat and not in the mood for a woman to fall on my dick, thinkin’ that says everything.”

  That was an outrageously low blow.

  Shit.

  Okay, I needed to hold it together, not go batshit crazy and mouth off, saying something I’d regret.

  I took in a deep breath and draped my jacket over the back of the couch to give myself time to do that.

  Only then did I look at him.

  “What triggered it?” I asked quietly.

  He stared at me before he threw the door to, turned back to me, and crossed his arms on his chest.

  But he didn’t speak.

  “What’s fuckin’ with your head, Merry?” I pushed.

  “Right now, you,” he returned.

  “Did I do something before?”

  He shook his head, murmuring, “Jesus, Cher.”

  I kept at him.

  “Ethan?”

  He stopped shaking his head and just looked at me.

  “Mom?” I continued.

  He didn’t answer.

  I took him in. Still in his nice button-up shirt, this one navy, perfect for his eyes, perfect for his coloring. Dark jeans that fit good. A fantastic belt. Nice but casual boots. That thick, dark hair that, even though I knew he was in his early forties, had not even a strand of silver in it. Set features in a strong, handsome face.

  Five hours ago, all that was mine.

  Now he was withholding it from me.

  I wanted it back.

  I closed my eyes, opened them and whispered, “You mean the world to me.”

  His tall, lean body jerked only slightly, like he caught it and tried to check it before the movement gave him away.

  But I saw it.

  “For a week, I’ve been happy,” I told him.

  “Cher—”

  “I got a good mom. I got a good kid. I got good friends. It’s not like I’ve never been happy. But with you, havin’ you, I’ve been happy.”

  His voice gentled as he said, “We’ll talk about this Saturday, Cherie.”

  “There is no way in fuck, Garrett, that I’m givin’ you two full days to lock yourself away from me,” I replied. “Ethan’s asleep. He’s good. Tilly’s with him. And now I’m here, askin’ you to talk to me.”

  “I’m fine,” he declared. “We’re fine. You’re makin’ a drama out of nothing.”

  “And you’re standin’ there, lyin’ to me.”

  Any gentle I’d gained took a hike.

  “You know me, but you don’t know me enough to say shit like that to me.”

  “Talk to me,” I repeated.

  “You need to go home, babe.”

  “What tripped it?” I asked.

  “Cher, won’t say it again. You need to get your ass home.”

  “What took you away from me tonight?”

  “We’re not talkin’ about this.”

  I threw out both arms, leaned t
oward him, and lost it.

  “What took you away from me?” I shrieked.

  I took an automatic step back and hit couch when he leaned my way, his face twisted in a way the feeling it expressed hurt me, he slammed his fists to his hips, and roared, “Flowers!”

  I stood still, finding myself suddenly breathing so heavy, my chest was actually heaving.

  Because I just witnessed Merry going from gentle to pissed to impatient to destroyed.

  Staring at that look on his face, I had no fucking clue what to do.

  And that look scared the living shit out of me.

  “Flowers?” my mouth whispered for me.

  Merry studied me. Then he moved jerkily, prowling toward the dining room table, lifting his hand and tearing it through his hair, moving like a caged animal, until he stopped and turned back to me.

  “Fuck,” he snarled.

  I didn’t move an inch except to follow him with my eyes.

  “Flowers, baby?” I prompted.

  “Fuck,” he repeated.

  “Flowers, Merry.”

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “What do you need?” I asked quickly.

  He looked to the side and I saw his jaw tight, his cheek ticking.

  “Merry, what do you need?”

  He looked back to me and announced, “I’m a cop.”

  “I know that,” I told him carefully.

  “You get that?” he shot back.

  I thought I did, but the way he was speaking, I wasn’t sure. So I just nodded.

  “You need to get that, Cher,” he stated roughly.

  “I get that, Merry.”

  “You don’t.”

  “I do,” I promised, even though I wasn’t sure I did.

  “We eat, we do it in front of the fucking TV.”

  His abrupt subject changes were bizarre, and even if I was getting him (which I wasn’t sure I was), with the quickness of those changes, I wasn’t keeping up.

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly.

  “No fuckin’ flowers.”

  “No flowers, Merry,” I agreed.

  “Your mom wants me back, I’ll eat at her table. But you tell her that shit—no flowers.”

  I nodded.

  He said no more.

  “Why no flowers, baby?” I asked quietly.

  “Cecelia liked flowers.”

  I shook my head.

  His baby niece liked flowers?

  “I—”

  “My mother, Cher.”