Hold On (The 'Burg Series Book 6)

by Kristen Ashley

  Merry gave him a grin.

  “That’s my boy.”

  My heart fluttered.

  My son’s chest visibly swelled.

  I heard Mom clear her throat.

  “Right, I’ll grab the ice cream,” Rocky said.

  “Everyone back in the living room,” Dave ordered.

  People moved. Merry straightened.

  I kept my eyes to my kid.

  He felt them and looked up at me.

  “You good?” I whispered.

  Ethan nodded.

  “Let’s go, buddy,” Colt called.

  Ethan looked at Colt.

  Then he followed his uncle into the living room.

  * * * * *

  “Holy cramoly!” Ethan shouted, yanked what was inside the envelope out, turned his eyes to Merry, lifted his hand straight into the air, waved it around, and screeched, “Colts tickets! Holy cramoly! I can’t believe it! That’s soooooo awesome!”

  He popped up and raced over legs and laps, pushing through bodies until he made it to Merry.

  Once there, he threw his arms around Merry’s middle and gave him a big hug.

  Even now a big boy at eleven, he didn’t let go and only tipped his head back, my little man smiling huge up at my big man.

  “Thanks, Merry! The greatest present ever!” he yelled.

  Merry grinned down at my kid and ruffled his hair.

  “Glad you dig ’em, bud,” he muttered.

  Ethan jumped up, seeming to forget he was still attached to Merry, which meant his jump jolted Merry. This made Merry’s grin turn into a smile.

  Then he let go and whirled my way.

  “Mom! Isn’t this awesome?” he asked me, waving the tickets.

  “Totally, kid,” I answered.

  “Ready to ruuuuuuuumble!” Ethan shouted before he shoved his way back to the coffee table, the dissected R2-D2, and more presents.

  I was squatting close to my boy, taking notes so Ethan could write thank-yous, shoving spent paper and bows in a trash bag, and finishing up my piece of cake.

  I was also allowing myself to enjoy the latest boon.

  This being, when life threatened to knock my kid sideways, it had always been me and mom who had to scramble to make sure it didn’t knock anything in him he couldn’t get rid of. Anger. Bitterness. Sadness. Regret.

  I looked to Merry to see him watching my kid tearing into his next present, and he had the look on his face that he sometimes had when he looked at me, but modified.

  Even modified, it was soft and warm and perfect.

  That was my boon.

  Because my man dug my kid.

  And me and my mom had another member on our team to make sure Ethan didn’t get knocked sideways.

  And he was a ringer.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  People Like Them

  Garrett

  Thursday Afternoon

  “Yeah. Thanks, man,” Garrett said into his phone. “Later.”

  He disconnected.

  Colt and Sully were standing next to Mike’s desk, talking to him about a case they were on.

  But when Garrett got off the phone, all eyes came to him.

  “That was Roy from northwest district,” Garrett said to their unasked question. “Had reason to be chatting with one of his sources. Trent Schott is on the street, scoring.”

  “Fuck,” Colt muttered.

  “You got a vicinity, you offer Ryker a marker, he’ll find him for you,” Sully suggested.

  Garrett looked at Sully. “Schott isn’t my job. His wife isn’t my job. Cher and Ethan are my job. Promised them I’d ask around, but Ethan wants nothing to do with him. We know he’s using. If Cher wants, she can tell Peggy. Anything else is up to her.”

  Sully grinned. “You just don’t wanna owe Ryker a marker.”

  “There’s that too,” Garrett muttered.

  That was when they all grinned at him.

  Garrett ignored them and reengaged his phone.

  He called his woman.

  He gave her the news.

  He found out while having a drink as she worked that night that she’d told Peggy. She’d also told her kid. She reported that Ethan cared but pretended he didn’t.

  Garrett decided to keep an eye.

  And as he did that and the days slid by, he found both mother and son did what they did.

  They just kept rolling.

  * * * * *

  Three Weeks Later

  Garrett was sitting at his desk when he got a phone call from Devin.

  “Woman packed up. Moved out. On her way to Missouri. Good call, seein’ as her man has spent about thirty hours of the last three days not high, and that’s only ’cause during those hours, he’s been passed out,” Devin declared. “FYI.”

  With that, he hung up.

  Merry grinned and tossed his phone on his desk, not surprised that Devin had been looking into things. He was a lot like Ryker, but his gig was disguising the fact he gave a shit behind being a crotchety old man, not a huge-ass, scary biker.

  Schott using again did not make him grin.

  Ethan would be okay.

  Cher wouldn’t care, but she would be focused on making sure Ethan was okay.

  But, crazy church lady or not, Garrett didn’t like the idea of Peggy Schott having to find a way to raise two kids who were suddenly without their dad.

  Missouri was a good call.

  He waited until he was face-to-face with his woman to share that news.

  She looked relieved.

  And regardless of how fucked up the situation was, Cher relieved made Garrett happy.

  With Peggy Schott gone, Mia quiet, and no threat on Cher’s street, all this meant Garrett was seriously looking forward to testing out normal with his brown-eyed girl.

  * * * * *

  They weren’t going to get that.

  It just wasn’t what life had in store.

  Not for people like them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  On Board with That

  Cher

  Early Saturday Morning, Late November

  The alarm went.

  Merry stirred.

  I stirred.

  Merry turned it off.

  I cuddled into him.

  He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a squeeze that felt half-affectionate, half-like he was using the movement to wake himself up.

  “I got ’im,” I mumbled.

  “I got ’im,” he mumbled back.

  I pressed closer. “You caught that case last night and got home late. You sleep. I got ’im.”

  “Babe.”

  I turned my head, touched my lips to his throat, and whispered, “Merry. You gotta let me take care of my kid once in a while. And just sayin’, let me do the same with you too.”

  A beat passed before he gave me another squeeze that was all-affectionate.

  Then he let me go.

  I slid out of his bed, lurched out of his room, closed the door behind me, and walked the short distance down the hall to the other bedroom.

  I knocked and opened the door.

  In the early morning dark, I saw my kid’s form under the covers in a new double bed. There were nightstands. There were lamps. There were posters of Colts players on the wall.

  Although most of it had been thrown away or carted to Goodwill, there was still junk, but Merry had shoved it in the closet.

  We were on a sleepover.

  They happened these days. It wasn’t frequent, but it happened.

  What was frequent was Merry sleeping over at our place. In fact, these days, that was nearly every night.

  Unless we were at his.

  “Yo, kid. Wake up,” I called. “Time to get ready. Gotta get you to Brendon’s and we can’t be late.”

  “Umma, gumma, mumma,” Ethan mumbled.

  I should have known it wouldn’t be as easy as calling out to him. It was just six o’clock on a Saturday. He was eleven. Hell, I was thirty-four and I w
asn’t real hip on being up at that hour.

  I moved to his bed and put a light hand on his shoulder.

  “Not my idea to have a full-scale birthday blowout at my dad’s cabin in the middle of nowhere that you gotta drive two hours and then hike through a forest to get to,” I said. “Wasn’t my idea to say yes to that crazy invite either. Since you said yes, you gotta get your butt outta bed and get ready or you’re gonna be late. You don’t want to miss the crazy-train to fishing in the middle of nowhere in November.”

  Ethan rolled to his back.

  “I’m stupid,” he muttered.

  “Hmm…” I replied noncommittally.

  “Brendon’s stupid,” he went on.

  “Assessing stupidity at this moment, kid, is not gettin’ your butt outta bed.”

  He made an unintelligible noise as he threw back the covers.

  I moved to the door and, with practice, waited at it as he slumped my way.

  I got out of his way and watched him go to the bathroom in the hall, turn the light on, and close the door.

  That was when I knew he wouldn’t relapse and face-plant back in bed.

  So I returned to Merry’s room.

  When I’d closed the door behind me and tiptoed to my bag through the dark, he muttered, “He up?”

  “Yeah, gorgeous. Go back to sleep.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to take him?” Merry asked, kinda slurred, definitely sleepy, also hot, and last, cute.

  “I got him,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Give me gooey before you go,” he ordered, still kinda slurred, sleepy, but definitely cute and hot.

  I changed from my pajama bottoms and cami into a bra, jeans, sweater, socks, and boots.

  Then I made my way to my man in the bed.

  He didn’t move as I put my hand on his hip and leaned in to brush my lips against the stubble of his jaw.

  But he did mumble, “Naked when you get back in bed with me.”

  Oh yeah.

  I could do that.

  “Right,” I whispered. “Be back.”

  “Later, baby,” he told the pillow, rubbed his face in it and turned his head the other way.

  Yeah, again.

  Cute.

  I did my thing with my kid, making sure he brushed his teeth, was dressed appropriately, had layers just in case the weather changed, and all he needed packed for a cabin-in-the-middle-of-nowhere sleepover. I also made sure he had Brendon’s card and present, and I got a breakfast bar down him.

  The last was likely unnecessary. Brendon’s parents had money. For his weekend-long birthday extravaganza in some woods somewhere fishing that had to start at oh-dark-thirty, no doubt they had a catered breakfast buffet waiting at their house.

  If it was me, I’d have two dozen Hilligoss donuts. But considering they felt their son’s diet should consist of more than sugar and chemically enhanced colors and flavoring, I figured they probably hadn’t had a donut in their house since…well, they bought their house.

  Which was too bad. If they had them, I could have swiped a few for Merry and me.

  Instead, I decided to swing by Hilligoss on the way back.

  My kid and I got in my car. I took him to Brendon’s. I walked him through the early morning dark to the big house on the Heritage, the ’burg’s fancy-ass housing development.

  Brendon’s parents asked me in.

  To my shock, they had Hilligoss. Not two dozen. Five. Brendon’s parents did not provide this blessing. Brendon’s uncle did.

  They offered me coffee and a donut. I only accepted the donut. When I mentioned Merry, Brendon’s mom packed four for me (probably hoping to get them out of her house as fast as possible). Obviously, I didn’t hesitate to accept.

  I made sure I had phone numbers for Brendon’s parents and the other two guys who were going with them to look after the boys.

  One number was Brendon’s uncle, the one who brought the donuts. He was also the one I noted with the attention of a woman who had it good at home (which meant absently) was on the upper scale of seriously good-looking. Not to mention he had a strong hint of badass to him, which made me wonder (also absently) what he did for a living.

  Brendon’s mom walked me to the door, saying, “Ethan says you’re seeing someone.”

  I turned my head to look at her.

  We weren’t buds.

  She was nice and all, but she lived on the Heritage. She was a stay-at-home mom. She went to yoga classes. She didn’t shop in Indy; she went up to Chicago to get the really good shit. But she did go to Indy to drink martinis (probably—I didn’t know this for sure, I just knew she never came to J&J’s).

  I was a bartender who lived in a boho-decorated crackerbox house.

  This alone wasn’t conducive to us being buds.

  Therefore, I looked at her in surprise, because being nice and all never included anything personal.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “That’s too bad. Jay just filed for divorce. I was thinking of fixing you two up.”

  I stopped and stared at her.

  Jay was her hot brother-in-law.

  And that was life. A dry spell for years after hooking my star to a psychopath, I finally get someone—someone awesome, someone perfect—and some bitch suddenly wants to fix me up with a hot guy.

  “Kinda taken,” I muttered.

  “If that doesn’t work out, you’ve got his number. He saw you picking up Brendon a couple of weeks back and asked about you. He doesn’t do that kind of thing and not just because he recently filed for divorce. He never did that kind of thing, before her or the last year they’ve been separated. This means he’s interested. So my take, he wouldn’t mind hearing from you.”

  I looked down her wide hall with its gleaming wood floors to the tall guy at the end of it wearing khaki cargo pants, a pullover army-green fleece with a half-zipper at his throat, three days of thick stubble, and a seriously attractive smile on his face that he was aiming down at Ethan’s bud Teddy.

  He might be fun.

  And that was life.

  Because I hoped I’d never know if he was or not.

  I looked back at Brendon’s mom. “Nice to know. But things are kinda serious with my guy.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “Just in case.”

  Whatever.

  I returned her smile and took off.

  I drove back to Merry’s, parked by his Excursion, and hoofed it up to his condo. And I used the key he’d given me the same night he’d given one to Ethan (something he didn’t make a big deal out of, but it was another warm and squishy moment, a huge one) to let myself in.

  The condo was dark.

  I considered making coffee and taking a cup to Merry with the donuts on a plate so we could scarf them down, doing this to give us both energy to do other things on a lazy Saturday when neither my man nor I had to work and my kid was off in the woods and wouldn’t be home until late tomorrow afternoon.

  I went to the bar, dropped the bag of donuts on it, and decided we could come out and make coffee and snarf down donuts later to carb up for a second round.

  This meant I peeled off clothes on my way to Merry’s room. By the time I got there, I had my jacket off. My sweater, boots, and socks, all gone.

  So I opened the door wearing nothing but jeans and a bra.

  What I saw was an empty bed and I could see that clearly because of the light coming from the bathroom.

  I moved that way and felt my mouth water when I caught sight of Merry in his navy flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else leaning into a hand on the basin. His hair was a sleepy mess. His stubble was dark against his jaw. And he had a toothbrush in his mouth.

  I grinned as I experienced a nice private shiver and moved his way.

  Still brushing, he turned his head toward me as I walked into the bathroom.

  His blue eyes instantly dropped to my bra.

  My eyes dropped to the triceps bunching in his arm braced against the basin.

&
nbsp; They moved to his lateral muscle. From there, they drifted down to his ass.

  I went where my eyes beckoned and shifted behind him, pressing in. Hands to his waist, I slid them up to his ribs as I bent in and touched my lips to his spine.

  I heard him spit out toothpaste foam.

  I slid my lips up as I slid my hands in.

  The tap went on.

  I slid my tongue out and my hands down.

  I felt the hair on his stomach.

  God, I loved that hair.

  I engaged my nails.

  Merry’s ab muscles contracted.

  The tap went off.

  I glided one hand up, flat against his pec. I also glided one hand down, tracing the arrow of hair, going for buried treasure.

  I heard a low rumble come from him and he shifted his ass back into my hips.

  Oh yeah.

  I pressed into him as I bared my teeth, scraped the skin of his back, rubbed my thumb across his nipple, and dove in, pushing into his pajamas and finding treasure.

  His thick cock was rock hard.

  Fuck yeah.

  His body tensed.

  “Jesus, Cher,” he growled.

  I held tight and stroked.

  “Fuck,” he grunted, pushing his dick into my hand.

  Fuck yeah.

  I stroked harder.

  “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged gruffly.

  I licked, kissed, and lightly scraped his back as my free hand roamed his chest and my busy hand worked his dick.

  “Wanna feel your tits,” he ordered, voice thick, ass again pressed deep into my hips, letting me do all the work.

  One-handed, I undid my bra. I slumped a shoulder so it would drop off. It did and I let it hang on the wrist of the hand engaged in giving my man the good stuff.

  I wrapped my arm back around him and pressed my tits into his back.

  “Fuck yeah,” he groaned.

  I kept at his cock with one hand as my other moved to the waistband of his pajama bottoms at the side. I looked down as I shoved down, watching as I exposed his skin, his muscle, his fine ass.

  My legs trembled.

  “Baby,” I breathed.

  “Knees,” he rumbled.

  No hesitation, I let his cock go and dropped to my knees.

  Merry turned and shoved his pajama pants down, kicked them aside, and reached to my head.

  He didn’t have to guide me. I reached to his hips, latched on, shifted, found the head, and sucked deep.