Hold On (Page 60)

You know what that means, Merry. You shared my shit. That means we’re over in every way we can be over.

DONE.

They were over?

There was something between his mom and Merry to be over?

She’d told him there wasn’t.

But she hadn’t told him the truth.

She was protecting him.

Again.

Ethan felt his heart beating real hard.

There were words in the message line that hadn’t been sent.

I fucked us up, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry.

She called Merry “baby.” She didn’t call anyone “baby” unless she liked them a whole heckuva lot.

It said I fucked us up.

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 attitude—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, fucked 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-twanging 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 goddess 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.

Fuck, I hadn’t locked the door after I came home from taking Ethan to school.

Fuck! How had I forgotten to lock the damned door when I came home from taking Ethan to school?

Fuck! He knew my diva secret!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’d heard me singing!

I turned off the vacuum.

“Celine?” Merry choked out.

I stared at him.