The 'Burg: Hold On Part 97

"I know, but-" I tried to cut in.

I failed.

"I never met her," Merry spoke over me. "But every word said about her was that she was nice, people liked her, and no one said she was dumb. Men like him, it's part of the sickness, sweetheart, finding the skills to hide he's sick. He needed something from you and he turned on the charm to get it, by that time having had years to hone his skills at manipulating things to get what he wanted to feed the sick at the same time hide it. He played you, Cher. That's all he did. The reasons why were worse than the usual player who uses those skills to get you in bed or a con man who does the same to orchestrate his score. But in the end, that's all it was. And you are far from the first person, woman or man, mother or not, who trusted someone enough to get played."

I was staring at him again because something about the way he laid that out felt like a knot was being untied inside me. It had been tied together to hold back something important, something crucial, and whatever that was, it finally was let loose.

Or maybe it was that and freaking out on him, attacking him, and dissolving into a sobbing mess in his arms.

Whatever...that knot loosened, that thing inside me untied, it loosened something else.

My mouth.

Thus, I blurted, "I love you."

"No s.h.i.+t?"

I didn't stare at that.

I blinked.

Then I asked, "I say, 'I love you,' and you say, 'no s.h.i.+t?'"

"Babe, had my head in my a.s.s, bein' my own brand of stupid, so I didn't see it. But when I looked back, I saw it." His lips quirked. "So yeah. No s.h.i.+t. Seein' as you been in love with me a long time."

Oh f.u.c.k.

He'd figured that out.

"I have not," I lied.

"Liar," he called me on it.

I started to push away.

His arms got tighter.

"Cherie, I love you too."

He sounded like he was struggling not only against me pulling away but also laughter.

Regardless of the fact that I totally...f.u.c.king...loved hearing those words directed at me from Garrett "Merry" Merrick's beautiful mouth, I was me.

So I stopped pus.h.i.+ng and glared at him. "I know. You shared that when you had me pinned against the wall."

"Honey, you drew blood and nearly got me in the b.a.l.l.s...twice. It was either pin you or let you have at it and then go to the emergency room."

I felt my eyes get big. "I drew blood?"

"Back," he grunted. "Nails. It's nothing."

I stretched to try and see his back. "Let me see."

"It's nothing."

I glared at him again. "Let me see, Merry."

"Not right now. Later. Now, one thing we gotta get straight-"

"I'll talk to Doc," I stated, guessing at what he wanted to get straight. "Ask him if maybe I should talk to someone about PTSD or something so you can f.u.c.k me on my stomach, because pre-ax murderer, I liked it like that."

Merry grinned at me. "Baby, you put up a h.e.l.luva fight and you were seriously gone, but if you can be glib about therapy for PTSD for the sake of not losin' a s.e.x position, I think you're good."

I hoped so because Feb and Morrie had good insurance, but I had no idea if it covered psychological s.h.i.+t and I had an extra name on my Christmas list now, an important one, and I was already giving up my candy and makeup habits (not all of them but some) in order to save to give it to him good. I didn't need therapy bills.

"Okay, so if you weren't gonna get up in my face about seein' someone to sort my s.h.i.+t out, what do we gotta talk about?" I asked.

"The fact that you clearly think it's weak to show emotion and to describe 'weak' you refer to bein' a girl. Showing emotion isn't weak. Showing emotion takes a lot of courage. Trusting someone to give s.h.i.+t to that you can't hold inside anymore isn't weak either. I know this because a wise, pretty, brown-eyed woman told me this not two months ago. And if we have girls, I don't want you teachin' them that they can't be girls however they wanna be girls and that anything girl-like is weak. 'Cause that s.h.i.+t ain't right."

I was staring again.

Then I was weeping again.

Finally, I was blurting again.

"If we have girls?"

"You want more kids?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Then that can happen, fifty-fifty chance, and if they like b.u.t.terflies and flowers and have no interest in bein' tough chicks, gotta know you're on board with that."

I was on board.

So on board.

Still whispering (and blurting and weeping), I said, "I love you."

Merry was whispering too when he replied, "Love you too, Cherie."

"Can I look at your back now?" I asked softly.

He fell back, doing it twisting.

When he had me back to the bed and him pressed into me, he said, "After I f.u.c.k you again."

My arms around him tightened as my brows went up. "Not concerned about another episode?"

"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 f.u.c.k.

Sat.u.r.day Night "Babe?"

I was nearly asleep, f.u.c.ked out and cuddled into my man.

"Mm?"

"Keep an eye, open communication, it happens again, you got s.h.i.+t 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 f.u.c.kuva 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."