God, Merry.
“You gonna give this the best shot you can give, sweetheart?” he asked when I said nothing.
I nodded.
He took in my nod, smiled a small smile, but pushed, “Promise me.”
I wanted to hesitate. I wanted to think about it. I was scared out of my mind.
But in that moment, I did not want to give any of that to Merry.
I wanted to give him nothing but what he needed.
So I gave it to him immediately.
“I promise, honey.”
His small smile got bigger before he said, “Later, Cher.”
“Later,” I replied.
His eyes drifted over me, his smile quirked, then he walked out the door.
I watched him do it.
Then I went to it and stood in it as I watched him walk to his Excursion at the curb.
This time, as he drove away, he looked to me and flicked out a hand.
I lifted mine and returned the gesture.
When he was gone, I closed and locked both doors. Then, before I allowed myself to have a nervous breakdown or to act all stupid and girlie and shout with glee while twirling or something (I hadn’t been girlie in so long, I wasn’t sure how to do it), I went to my purse and pulled out my phone.
I maneuvered right to my text string with Merry and stared at the last two texts.
I fucked us up, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry.
Don’t text. If you forgive me, come see me.
The first one I typed in and left unsent.
Now it was sent.
The second one didn’t even sound like me.
I closed my eyes slowly as it came to me.
Ethan.
My little man, he so wanted his momma happy.
I opened my eyes and looked at the texts again, not having that first clue what to do.
Ethan should not have done that.
And Merry needed to know it wasn’t me who’d had the courage to take the next step.
But I didn’t know how to handle either.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, tossing the phone on my purse. I went back to my vacuuming, doing it with Celine, losing myself in rivers deep and mountains high, knowing when the time came to deal, if I did it right or I did it wrong, I’d still do it.
Because that was what I did.
It had always been what I did no matter what messes I got myself into.
I dealt.
For me.
For Ethan.
And now I’d do it for Merry.
Chapter Ten
The Score
Garrett
After leaving Cher, Garrett walked up the back steps of the station into the bullpen, carrying two Mimi’s coffees.
When he hit the top, he did an automatic scan of the space, seeing Drew and Sean in the office with the cap. Adam and Ellen, in uniform, were walking down the front steps.
And Garrett’s partner, Mike Haines, was sitting at his desk, a desk that was butted front-to-front with Garrett’s.
Mike had his eyes on him and Garrett moved that way, hitting Mike’s desk at the side to put his coffee down before walking to his own desk.
“Get your business sorted?” Mike asked as Garrett set his coffee down and took his seat.
He looked to Mike. “Yep.”
Mike eyed him, hand wrapped around his coffee still resting on his desk.
“Can’t get a read on you,” he noted after a few beats. “You either just got a late life offer from the Colts to be their starting tight end or you’re planning to kidnap someone to torture them.”
Garrett was not surprised Mike got this read. They’d been partners for a while.
“Accurate on both, seein’ as things are good, as in real good, and I’m still pissed.”
Mike took a sip of his coffee before suggesting, “Maybe we should start with the good shit.”
“Takin’ Cher Rivers to dinner at Swank’s tomorrow.”
Disappointment slid through Mike’s features, his mouth went hard, and he sat back in his chair.
Mike could read Garrett, Garrett could read Mike. And his read was that this wasn’t about Garrett not sharing with Mike how things were the last week and a half with Cher. Even if he hadn’t said a word, Mike had definitely heard because everyone in town was talking about Garrett, Cher, and Mia.
But Mike knew him well enough to know that if Garrett wanted to talk it out, he’d do that. So Mike had let it go, waiting for Garrett to come to him if he needed him, or not.
No, his reaction was Mike knowing Garrett liked to get laid and him thinking that was what was happening here.
Garrett figured disappointment didn’t slide through his own features, considering he didn’t feel disappointed.
He felt pissed.
“You heard talk,” he remarked.
“Impossible not to hear it unless I locked Dusty and me in a soundproofed panic room the last two weeks,” Mike returned.
“Well, I can confirm Cher and me hooked up.”
Mike leaned toward Garrett’s desk, starting, “Man—”
Garrett leaned forward too.
“It was that. Then it was not that,” he bit out. “You know me, brother. I’m dumb enough to get drunk with a good woman who’s a friend who means somethin’ to me and fuck that shit up. I’m not that man who would do what you’re thinkin’ to Cher.”
“You and Mia are—”
“There is no me and Mia.”
At the strength of Garrett’s tone, Mike did a slow blink.
“Straight up, Cher and me hooked up,” Garrett carried on. “That’s what I thought it was. Wasn’t so drunk I didn’t think she knew the score. She did. Problem was, I didn’t.”