The 'Burg: Hold On Part 31

His mom and Merry were an us!

And they were fighting.

"Kid! You want hash browns for breakfast or what?" his mom called.

She was coming his way.

Ethan bit his lip.

Then he hit send.

Real quick, he typed in, Don't text. If you forgive me, come see me.

He sent that too.

Then, super quick, he moved to his gramma's text string just as his mom hit the kitchen.

Screen out, he waved her phone at her. "Gramma wants us to plan a family dinner."

"I'll get right on that after we get back from DC for the dinner the president and first lady are putting on in our honor."

Ethan burst out laughing.

His mom was totally funny.

And because of that and all the other cool that was his mom, Merry would come. Ethan knew it.

No texting. Merry was like Colt. He was a real dude. Ethan was sure he didn't play games. Ethan knew this because Merry hadn't messed around when he was worried about that guy who was running around with a gun in their neighborhood. Even if his mom was trying to play things cool for Ethan's sake, Merry kept close to look out for Ethan and his mom. So Ethan knew Merry wouldn't mess around with stuff like that. Not stuff that was important.

Stuff like his mom.

They'd talk. They'd make up. His mom could be stubborn, but Merry would break through.

They thought he was a kid. They thought he didn't see. They thought he didn't hear.

But he saw. He heard. He watched, because he sensed what he was seeing was how it should be and it felt good, being around the way they were.

That being that sometimes Feb could be stubborn too, and Colt broke through. So could Vi, and Cal always broke through too. Rocky was full of att.i.tude-she was Merry's sister so he knew all about that-and Tanner always just thought it was funny, and when he laughed at her, Rocky didn't get ticked. Her face got all soft like she loved him even more because the way she was made him laugh.

Ethan's mom was super funny. She'd make Merry laugh all the time.

So they'd make up. Merry would see to that. Merry was in no way a stupid dude, and any guy would want a lady who'd make him laugh all the time. Ethan knew that for certain. He knew it because Colt did, so did Cal, Mike, Tanner. And when Ethan found his babe, that was what he would want too.

And after they made up, they'd stop hiding things from him so his mom could protect him like she did when that bad guy effed her over so bad.

Then...

Then...

Then Merry would be around all the time.

And she'd finally be happy.

Chapter Nine.

Hangin' in There Cher Wednesday Morning I was in my living room, vacuuming, an activity that for some reason in a house with only a thirty-four-year-old woman and a ten-almost-eleven-year-old kid living in it, had to happen more than once a week.

As was my way, to take my mind off something that was not my favorite activity, not to mention it was right then officially a week (and a couple of hours) since I'd let loose on Merry, f.u.c.ked up everything between us, and I hadn't seen or heard from him at all, I had my music up loud.

I liked rock 'n' roll.

There was some guitar-tw.a.n.ging country that didn't drive me up the wall.

But my personal little secret was that I was a diva queen.

I certainly had a gift with banging my head to some Quiet Riot.

But with my vacuum in my living room, I was a G.o.ddess ready for the Vegas stage, belting it out with the likes of Aretha, Tina, Whitney, Donna, Linda, Janet, and Cher (the other one, who could actually sing).

And at that precise moment, I was killing it, accompanying the fabulous Celine in her version of "River Deep Mountain High."

The music was too loud with a dual purpose. First, I loved that song, and it needed to be loud so I could hear it over the vacuum. And second, it drowned out my voice so I could kid myself about the fact that I could accompany Celine without sounding like a howling cat who would make the real Celine take off running on her two-thousand-dollar Valentinos.

I was preparing to let go of the vacuum in order to have both my hands free to do the air bongos (something that any living being should do when Celine's bongo guy lets loose on that track) when, suddenly, the sound cut out completely.

I looked to the receiver in my media center. Then my senses, no longer being interfered with by the brilliance of Celine, refocused and I whipped around.

Merry was standing by my coffee table, my remote in his hand, looking at me, mouth curled up in a smile, his tall, lean body shaking with silent laughter.

f.u.c.k, I hadn't locked the door after I came home from taking Ethan to school.

f.u.c.k! How had I forgotten to lock the d.a.m.ned door when I came home from taking Ethan to school?

f.u.c.k! He knew my diva secret!

f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k! He'd heard me singing!

I turned off the vacuum.

"Celine?" Merry choked out.

I stared at him.

"You, my brown-eyed girl, who'd see Tommy Lee lookin' at her rack and smack him across his face for bein' forward, causin' him to write a song that'd have millions of women throwin' their panties at him, listens to Celine f.u.c.kin' Dion?" he asked.

His brown-eyed girl?

Garrett Merrick's brown-eyed girl?

Me?

Garrett Merrick, estranged from me because I'd been a foul-mouthed, overreacting crazy lady, was standing in my living room calling me his brown-eyed girl?

I kept staring at him.

Then I whispered, "You're here."

The humor fled from him completely, his handsome face turned beautiful, and he replied, "Got your text, baby."

My insides convulsed.

My text?

Oh s.h.i.+t, had I somehow accidentally sent my text?

Before I could play my life in rewind to figure out how that might have occurred, Merry bent and tossed my remote to the coffee table and walked my way. When he got to me, he pulled the vacuum out of my hand, swung it aside, and got in my s.p.a.ce, chin dipped into his neck to look down at me.

"Your apology was sweet." He grinned a small grin. "Your brand of sweet, considerin' you dropped the f-bomb twice givin' it to me. And I appreciate it, Cherie."

Cherie.

Not Cher.

Not the dreaded Cheryl.

He gave me back his Cherie.

A weird but not unpleasant warmth I'd never felt started to creep over me.

"I appreciate it, but you didn't need to give it," he went on, lifting his hand to cup my jaw and bending so his face was closer to mine. "I knew before I left that you were sorry."

I stared into his blue eyes that were looking into mine, communicating amazing things.

Somehow, that text got sent and there he was, in my living room, accepting an apology I didn't know I gave.

Here was another boon that life had thrown at me.

And before I could think better of it, I latched on ferociously.

"I overreacted," I blurted on a whisper.

The pads of his fingers dug into my skin gently. "I get that."

I held his eyes and gave a careful shake of my head so I wouldn't lose his hand on me. "No. Ethan and me...the way things have been...how our lives are..." My quiet voice dropped quieter. "I only ever get his mornings guaranteed."

"I get that, honey," he repeated. "I stepped over a line. It might not have been right how you communicated that, but that doesn't mean you weren't right to be angry."

I gave another cautious shake of my head. "No, I was totally out of line being that ugly."

"Cher, you love your kid and that's your time. Lots of s.h.i.+t is goin' down, not the least of which I was pus.h.i.+n' at a time when I should have been goin' gently. You're you. You reacted like you and like the mother you are. It happened. It's done. You apologized and I've admitted I didn't play that right. We're movin' on."

That was good. I wanted that. I wanted us to move on. I wanted the quiet understanding he was giving me. I didn't want him to be angry. I wanted him back in my life.

I also wanted to explore where his manner was saying we were going.

But what I needed was to get him to understand completely.

"It was ugly and it might have been right why I did it," I told him. "But it was also wrong. Ethan talked to me about it and he liked havin' you around." I saw a flare in his eyes I liked, but I didn't take time to let it register deep. I had to get this done, so I powered forward. "He liked you two doin' somethin' together to look out for me. He gets that I look out for him all the time and he's a good kid. He wants me to have that sometimes too. And he liked doin' that with you for me."

Merry didn't say anything, but he did glide his thumb along my cheek to edge the bottom of my lip and then back.

That meant he actually did say something, and what he said was unbelievably sweet.

I fought pressing my lips together or leaning in and pressing everything to him.

It was difficult, not only with his touch but the soft way he was looking at me. Another something from Merry I'd never gotten from another man in my life. And I was glad. I was ecstatic. Because staring into his eyes, getting that from him, if I knew that kind of thing existed and I went for days, weeks, years not having it aimed at me, I didn't know if I could keep breathing.

This feeling caused me again to blurt out more words.

"I texted you the next day."

I lost the look as his brows drew together in confusion.

"I didn't send it," I told him quickly. "I erased it. But I apologized. I explained. Then I erased it all."

The look came back, and in those mere seconds from losing it to getting it back again, I became a junkie, knowing down to my bones I'd do anything-any-f.u.c.king-thing-to get that look as often as I could aimed at me.

So I kept f.u.c.king talking.

"I texted you more. I told you I'm worried I'm not feedin' my kid right. I told you I tried to get him to eat carrots. I told you that didn't work."

Humor mingled with that look in his eyes and, f.u.c.k me, that was even better.

"I told you other stuff too," I shared. "I texted you all the time, without texting you."

"Glad you finally hit the right b.u.t.ton, sweetheart."

I actually hadn't.

Or I didn't think I had.