Hold On (Page 159)

“I know some times when you’re on top that make me a fuckuva lot happier than you are.”

His words and the memories they invoked gave me a nice shiver.

And experiencing that, I shared, “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Trust me, baby. When you ride me, I watch you come, but I feel what you give to me.”

“I feel what you give to me too.”

“You come harder on your back. That’s when I’m givin’ it to you. When you’re on top, you’re givin’ it to me.”

This was definitely true.

“So there are times when you’re on top with the happy in more ways than one,” he finished.

I faced forward again, mumbling, “That makes me feel better.”

Merry reached out and nabbed my hand, holding it.

And more happy.

“Glad I could be of service,” he murmured.

“Stop being perfect,” I ordered.

He chuckled.

“And awesome,” I went on.

He kept chucking.

“And funny, smart, sweet, and hot,” I finished.

His hand squeezed mine hard as he burst out laughing.

And there it was.

I was on top.

* * * * *

“Is there something I can do, Cher?”

A bunch of people were stuffed in my kitchen with me, one of them being Rocky, who’d just asked that question.

It was time for cake.

But it was also a birthday party with fifteen kids and twice that many adults paying homage to my boy for being awesome (and turning eleven), so there was always something to do.

“Yeah, babe. Can you grab the ice cream?” I asked, unearthing R2-D2 from his flat, white box.

“Absolutely,” she murmured, pushing her way to the fridge.

I felt a hand warm on the small of my back as I saw another hand offering me two boxes of candles, one box of blue, one black.

“Need a light?” Merry’s voice rumbled into my ear.

I twisted to look up to him. “Yeah, gorgeous. And can you grab the plates and forks and get everyone in the living room?”

His hand slid down to the top of my ass, fingers curved around my hip, and gave a squeeze. “You got it.”

He dropped the candles on the counter by the cake, dug in his jeans pocket, pulled out a lighter, and tossed that on the counter too. Then he bent and kissed my neck briefly before he took off.

“Everyone in the living room,” he announced as he went. “Time for cake.”

“My big brother…domesticated,” Rocky remarked.

I looked to her to see she had a tub of ice cream in her hand and her eyes aimed where Merry was herding people out of the kitchen.

She turned to me and her smile was big.

“Looks good on him,” she declared.

“Your brother always looks good,” I replied.

Her big grin got bigger.

I dipped my head to her middle. “Congrats, by the way. Merry told me.”

She balanced the tub of ice cream in one hand in order to put her other to her belly. “Thanks.”

I turned to the cake and snatched up the candles.

Rocky got close.

“You want some?” she asked.

“Want some what?” I asked back, shoving candles in the cake and feeling weird doing it. R2-D2 was also my favorite Star Wars character and shoving candles in his middle (even if that middle was pure frosting) felt like stabbing my favorite teddy bear.

She put the ice cream on the counter and took some candles from me, starting to help.

“Some kids,” she explained.

Rocky and I weren’t tight like Vi and I, Feb and I, Frankie and I, or even Dusty and I were. We knew each other. We liked each other. But I was closer to Tanner.

But she was my man’s sister.

It was time.

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“Cute baby girls with your brown eyes,” she replied softly.

I looked to her. “Cute baby boys with his blue ones.”

She smiled again.

This one wasn’t huge, but it said a whole lot more than both the others had and all it said was good.

“We need help in here?”

Rocky and I turned to the door to see Dave walking in.

“Yeah, Dad, go in the living room and pull the curtains so we have dark for the candles,” Rocky ordered.

“Gotcha,” Dave said. He gave me a grin and turned right back around.

“And make sure people have their cameras ready!” Rocky bossed right before he disappeared through the doorway.

He lifted a hand to indicate he’d heard and was gone.

“I’ll get a knife,” she muttered. “Ice cream scoop?”

“That drawer there,” I said, jerking my head.

I finished with the candles and grabbed the lighter to start lighting.

“Baby, ready?”

I twisted again and saw Merry had six packages of Star Wars plates held sandwiched in one of his big hands, a package of plastic forks in the other. The living room beyond him was dimmed. All was ready.

“Ethan in place?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Merry answered.

I smiled. “Then yeah, honey. All ready.”

He smiled back, turned, and stopped dead.

I stopped dead too.

This was because there was a loud banging on the door.

Very loud.

And from that loud, you could definitely read angry.

Very angry.

What the fuck?

Merry glanced my way, then tossed the plates and plastic silverware aside and prowled out.

With a quick look at a perplexed Rocky, I tossed the lighter aside and hurried after him.

I hit the kitchen doorway to see forty-seven people crammed into my not-very-big living room, a room draped in black-and-blue streamers; black, blue, and silver balloons bunched and stuck in corners and around the ceiling light; and black plastic Darth Vader head-shaped trays and white plastic Stormtrooper head-shaped trays filled with Chex Mix, M&M’s, honey-roasted peanuts, or Fritos littering every surface available.