Hold On (Page 53)

All of a sudden this thought made him smile, because if Cher was right there and he could’ve shared that with her, she’d bust out laughing.

Garrett turned out the lights and headed to the bedroom thinking, yeah, his brown-eyed girl had a week. That was as long as he was prepared to sit on his ass and wait for her to come to him.

If she didn’t, she was ready or not, he was going to her.

Chapter Eight

A Week

Cher

Thursday Afternoon

My phone sounded with a text as I drove home from the grocery store, six bags of shit that had absolutely no nutritional value in the back of my car (plus four of those baby carrots snack packs).

In other words, I was good to go to keep my “cool mom” crown because Ethan and Everest were going to hit the better-living-through-chemistry food mother lode at about five tomorrow night when Everest came for his sleepover.

I’d also stopped by the bank and opened a new account with Trent and Peggy’s thirty-five hundred dollars. It and anything else they gave me was going to stay set aside.

I didn’t know why I did this, I just felt it prudent.

And if nothing came of whatever they planned to do but them giving me that money (as well as the hundred bucks every two weeks that they’d promised), then at least it was in a savings account earning interest until whenever I deemed it time to hand it over to Ethan.

I parked in my driveway and grabbed my phone.

The text was as I’d feared—not from Merry.

It was from Trent.

Call me. We need to talk.

I threw my phone back in my purse, got out, grabbed the bags, and took them in the house.

It was after I’d put everything away that I got my phone out again.

Just got back from the grocery store. I’m worried that my nutritional selections for my kid are preserving his body for science. So I bought carrots.

I stared at the text I typed in Merry’s text string, the bubble hovering over it still declaring DONE.

Then I backspaced through the text, tossed my phone on my purse, and walked out of the kitchen.

* * * * *

Friday Evening

I moved through the living room with my phone in one hand, the snack-size four-pack of baby carrots in the other.

I saw my son and his buddy lounging on the couch, controllers in hands, twisting and turning as they hit buttons, eyes glued to the TV, the detritus of a feeding frenzy in front of them so extreme, it covered the top of the coffee table and leaked over all four sides.

I kept moving as I tossed the packs of carrots in the middle of it, causing a bag of half-eaten microwave popcorn to shift, littering popped kernels all over my carpet. It also caused an opened bag of bite-size Snickers to fall off and spray baby candy bars everywhere.

I didn’t pause to clean up (though I did pause to snatch up a couple of Snickers for myself).

I spoke as I quickly negotiated the area in front of the TV so I didn’t obstruct their view.

“Do me a favor and eat those, so when your parents sue me for putting you in a sugar coma, my attorneys can tell them I made a valiant attempt to cut through the crap with carrots.”

Everest burst out laughing.

“You’re crazy, Mom!” Ethan cried, doing it through a little man laugh that was part boy giggle, part man chuckle, eyes never leaving the TV, controller in hand shifting.

I had a feeling their reactions meant the carrots were going to be ignored.

I’d made that bed, so I also had a feeling I had no choice but to lie in it.

I hit my bedroom, climbed on my actual bed, and sat leaning against my collection of pillows that did, actually, look like something Janis Joplin would recline on for a Rolling Stone photo shoot.

I crossed my legs under me, made quick work of my Snickers, then lifted up my phone.

I went where I needed to go.

First attempt with the carrots was a fail, I texted Merry.

I deleted it.

Then I shared, Two more day shifts then I’m back on nights. In a perfect world, I could give Mom a break and ask you to come over and hang with my kid while I work.

I deleted that too.

Ethan would dig that. But I’d dig it more knowing that you were with my boy and he liked it.

Obviously, I got rid of that too.

Mostly, though, I’d like knowing you’d be there when I got home.

Quickly, before my thumb could hit anything on the screen that would be catastrophic, I deleted that too.

I jumped when my phone sounded in my hand, a text popping up.

Not from Merry.

From Trent.

Did you get my text yesterday? We need to talk. Call me.

Not a word from Merry, but my ex-loser texted me twice.

That was my life.

Of course, it was up to me to sort out the shit pile I’d created that stood between Merry and me.

But that wouldn’t happen.

Eventually, he’d come into J&J’s and give me indication he didn’t totally hate me, though he’d probably be distant.

Over time, that would melt and he’d be cool with me again.

Finally, we’d get to joking and laughing.

Then, after a while, I’d watch him eye up some babe who did it for him. He wouldn’t make the approach in front of me, not at first. He’d wait to get back to that after he knew we were back where we needed to be.

But he’d find his way to make an approach.

And then it would be done.

And we’d be where we were supposed to be.

Meaning, I’d be right back where I belonged.

Alone and skirting the edges, on the outside looking in to all the amazing that was Merry.

* * * * *

Garrett

Saturday Night

Garrett rode his bike under the covered parking spot he paid extra for every month so his Harley would be sheltered from the elements.