Winnin’ a family.
God.
Merry.
“All right, baby,” I whispered.
“Don’t wanna sound like a dick but also don’t wanna be assurin’ you constantly about where I’m at.” His voice dipped. “You need to believe in this, Cher.”
It was hard for me to believe. For years, along with the rest of the ’burg, I’d lived the whole Mia-and-Merry-need-to-get-back-together thing.
But he was right.
I’d made a decision to give us a shot. I’d promised him I’d give it the best one I had. And I’d promised myself I was not going to fuck this up.
And it had just been days and I was falling down on that job.
“Roger that, boss,” I replied.
“I’m spoutin’ important shit, she gives me the smartass.”
“It’s me.”
“It is.”
He didn’t make it sound like it was a bad thing.
“Are we gonna talk for the next hour so you’re only gonna be here for fifteen minutes before I get to go home to my kid and my guy? Or are we gonna hang up so you can get your shit done and come see me?”
Merry didn’t reply.
He hung up on me.
Which was too bad since he couldn’t hear me laughing.
Chapter Fifteen
Don’t Let Go
Cher
Ethan nearly knocked me off the couch when he shot off it to get to the door.
A second earlier, he’d looked through the break in the curtains.
I looked to the cable box.
It was Thursday night, ten to six, and Merry was there.
I turned my head left and saw Ethan throw open the front door and unlock the storm.
He waited a beat…two…three…all while I suspected Merry was walking up the walk.
Then he shouted, “Hey, Merry!”
I studied my son, wondering if Merry read the situation with him right.
Ethan had totally been down with Merry hanging with us and watching TV the night before.
And he was totally down with Merry walking up our walk and going to his gramma’s for a family dinner.
It didn’t appear Ethan needed space.
It appeared Ethan was like me and just needed Merry.
“Hey, man.” I heard Merry’s voice, and that was when I pushed out of the couch, grabbing the remote.
I was turning their way at the same time switching off the TV when Merry walked in and gave Ethan a man-to-man handshake.
They’d let go when Ethan informed him, “Gram’s makin’ her meatloaf.” He lifted a hand and shook it in a don’t-be-disappointed gesture. “I know it sounds like it sucks. But it doesn’t. Gram’s meatloaf is the freaking bomb. It’s like a huge hamburger baked with ketchup on top. She usually puts onions in it, though she won’t do that tonight.”
“Sounds good,” Merry told him.
“Then she makes this tater tot casserole to go with it. It’s crazy good.”
Merry grinned. “Sounds like it’s a good thing I’m hungry.”
Merry’s comments did not deter Ethan from his information sharing. “And fried corn.”
“Can’t call yourself a Hoosier unless you got fried corn stuck in your teeth at least once a week,” Merry replied.
Ethan burst out laughing.
“Okay, kid, now that you’ve broken down the menu,” I said, moving toward them. “Maybe we can get to your gramma’s and eat it.”
Ethan quit laughing and looked at me. “You just want me to shut up so you can be gooey with Merry.”
“That and I’m hungry,” I returned.
“Whatever,” he muttered to me and looked to Merry. “While you get gooey with Mom, can I go out and start your truck?”
As an answer, Merry tossed Ethan his keys.
“Right on!” Ethan shouted after he caught them.
He wasted no time rushing to the bucket chair to grab his jacket and then he raced out of the house.
The storm door whispered and banged.
I looked to Merry.
“Get over here and give me gooey,” he ordered.
The essence of hotness: a badass capable of uttering the word “gooey,” doing that shit and making my clit tingle.
I wasted no time either.
Merry met me halfway probably with a dual purpose, the second part of that being we were not in the door where Ethan could see when Merry took me in his arms, bent and laid a wet one on me.
When he was done I was wishing we had all kinds of time to be gooey.
Since we didn’t, I warned, “Don’t let Mom steal you away with her tater tot casserole. Just so you know, I have the recipe.”
Merry held me close in his arms and smiled at me.
My kid. My guy. My mom. Her tater tot casserole. And Merry smiling at me.
There it was again.
Fucking happy.
* * * * *
“This is delicious, Grace,” Merry told my mother.
We were sitting at Mom’s kitchen table.
Ethan was shoveling his gramma’s food in his mouth like he’d been told he was getting nothing but C rations for the next year after that meal.
I was freaking.
This was because somewhere between leaving my house and sitting at Mom’s table, something had happened to Merry.
Something extreme.
Gone was the mellow, funny guy he gave my kid. Gone was the thoughtful, gentlemanly guy he gave my mom. And gone was the teasing, hot guy he gave me.
He was quiet to the point he was distant, like he was there but he didn’t want to be.
Worse, he wasn’t hiding that.
At all.
Those four words were the first he’d spoken since conversation had awkwardly died when both mom and me sensed Merry retreating.