The 'Burg: Hold On Part 59

I kept at him.

"Ethan?"

He stopped shaking his head and just looked at me.

"Mom?" I continued.

He didn't answer.

I took him in. Still in his nice b.u.t.ton-up s.h.i.+rt, this one navy, perfect for his eyes, perfect for his coloring. Dark jeans that fit good. A fantastic belt. Nice but casual boots. That thick, dark hair that, even though I knew he was in his early forties, had not even a strand of silver in it. Set features in a strong, handsome face.

Five hours ago, all that was mine.

Now he was withholding it from me.

I wanted it back.

I closed my eyes, opened them and whispered, "You mean the world to me."

His tall, lean body jerked only slightly, like he caught it and tried to check it before the movement gave him away.

But I saw it.

"For a week, I've been happy," I told him.

"Cher-"

"I got a good mom. I got a good kid. I got good friends. It's not like I've never been happy. But with you, havin' you, I've been happy."

His voice gentled as he said, "We'll talk about this Sat.u.r.day, Cherie."

"There is no way in f.u.c.k, Garrett, that I'm givin' you two full days to lock yourself away from me," I replied. "Ethan's asleep. He's good. Tilly's with him. And now I'm here, askin' you to talk to me."

"I'm fine," he declared. "We're fine. You're makin' a drama out of nothing."

"And you're standin' there, lyin' to me."

Any gentle I'd gained took a hike.

"You know me, but you don't know me enough to say s.h.i.+t like that to me."

"Talk to me," I repeated.

"You need to go home, babe."

"What tripped it?" I asked.

"Cher, won't say it again. You need to get your a.s.s home."

"What took you away from me tonight?"

"We're not talkin' about this."

I threw out both arms, leaned toward him, and lost it.

"What took you away from me?" I shrieked.

I took an automatic step back and hit couch when he leaned my way, his face twisted in a way the feeling it expressed hurt me, he slammed his fists to his hips, and roared, "Flowers!"

I stood still, finding myself suddenly breathing so heavy, my chest was actually heaving.

Because I just witnessed Merry going from gentle to p.i.s.sed to impatient to destroyed.

Staring at that look on his face, I had no f.u.c.king clue what to do.

And that look scared the living s.h.i.+t out of me.

"Flowers?" my mouth whispered for me.

Merry studied me. Then he moved jerkily, prowling toward the dining room table, lifting his hand and tearing it through his hair, moving like a caged animal, until he stopped and turned back to me.

"f.u.c.k," he snarled.

I didn't move an inch except to follow him with my eyes.

"Flowers, baby?" I prompted.

"f.u.c.k," he repeated.

"Flowers, Merry."

"f.u.c.k," he whispered.

"What do you need?" I asked quickly.

He looked to the side and I saw his jaw tight, his cheek ticking.

"Merry, what do you need?"

He looked back to me and announced, "I'm a cop."

"I know that," I told him carefully.

"You get that?" he shot back.

I thought I did, but the way he was speaking, I wasn't sure. So I just nodded.

"You need to get that, Cher," he stated roughly.

"I get that, Merry."

"You don't."

"I do," I promised, even though I wasn't sure I did.

"We eat, we do it in front of the f.u.c.king TV."

His abrupt subject changes were bizarre, and even if I was getting him (which I wasn't sure I was), with the quickness of those changes, I wasn't keeping up.

"Okay," I said hesitantly.

"No f.u.c.kin' flowers."

"No flowers, Merry," I agreed.

"Your mom wants me back, I'll eat at her table. But you tell her that s.h.i.+t-no flowers."

I nodded.

He said no more.

"Why no flowers, baby?" I asked quietly.

"Cecelia liked flowers."

I shook my head.

His baby niece liked flowers?

"I-".

"My mother, Cher."

I shut my mouth.

s.h.i.+t.

s.h.i.+t.

f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t.

"We Merricks aren't real good at sittin' down with family."

"Your mom liked doin' that," I whispered.

"Every night. No fail. And either Dad bought 'em or she got 'em herself, but in our house, there were lots of flowers."

G.o.d.

G.o.d, Merry.

"Weak," he grunted, that one word sounding torn from him in a way so extreme, it also ripped through me.

"What?" I asked, knowing we were now somewhere else. I wasn't keeping up, but it was essential that I did.

"This s.h.i.+t. I'm f.u.c.kin' forty-two and still not over it. It's weak."

Was he crazy?

"I dread it," I told him.

"Bet you do," he said like he knew what he was talking about.

Maybe he did.

I told him anyway.

"The day I lose her...I dread it. She's been there. Always been there. I f.u.c.ked up, Merry. You know I did. But it was worse when I was a kid. Christ, when I was a teenager, I f.u.c.ked up, but she was always there. She held my hand when I pushed out Ethan. She looks after him just as much as me. She's always there and I love that. I love her. But I know she's gonna go. It's the way it is. And I dread it. I know I'll never get over it. It'll be like a piece was torn from my heart and it'll never beat the same way again. I know that. And I also know feelin' that feeling is so far from weak it isn't funny."

Merry didn't move, not even his mouth.

"Lord forbid it happens anything like the way you lost yours. Won't be in my power however it goes down. But the way you lost your momma, Merry...G.o.d." I shook my head, feeling moist in my eyes. "The beauty you are, standin' right there? I don't know how that could be. I'm breakin' my back to give Ethan good and I'm doin' it with fingers crossed, hopin' he grows up half the man you are. You lost your momma and you're all that." I swung a hand to him. "You're f.u.c.kin' straight up crazy if you think any of that is weak. Love is not weak. Grief is not weak. Lovin' her so much you're givin' that to her decades after she's been gone and you're still standing? Baby, seriously, how the f.u.c.k can you think that's weak?"

"Come here, Cher," he ordered.

"No," I denied, thinking I needed to sort his s.h.i.+t out. "Answer me."

"Come..." he drew in a breath that didn't work and I knew it when the next was growled, "here, Cher."

I looked into his eyes.

Then I walked there.

Four feet away, he lunged at me, hooked my waist with his arm, and I was flying through the air. My surprised cry stuck in my throat when my back hit the dining room table with Merry bent over me.

He kissed me, hard and wet and brutal, his hands tearing at my clothes.

I tried to get to his.

He broke the kiss and ordered, "Arms over your head, Cherie."

"Baby," I whispered.

"Do it," he grunted.

I lifted my arms over my head, staring into his blue eyes, panting.

He dropped his mouth to mine and took it in another savage kiss.