Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(10)
Finally, I found it.
“Cool of you,” I muttered.
He nodded, looking funny, and I didn’t know this new and improved Trent very well, so I didn’t get that look. I thought it was disappointment, like he’d hoped I’d decline so he could buy his son a new crib or something.
As I was often in my life, I found out pretty quickly I was wrong.
“Also, Peg and me want you to think about something.”
I felt my teeth clench, which made my aching head start to throb.
Trent didn’t talk about Trent, not ever. He talked about Trent and Peg. It was like they were one person with one mind, and I got the feeling that mind was all hers. She had the leash on her man, frequently yanked the chain, and he was so devoted, he just panted happily and obeyed her every command.
The okay part about this was that what Peg wanted was good for Ethan.
The sad part about this was seeing a man, any man, much less one I’d once loved and thought I had a future with, brought to heel.
“What do you want me to think about?” I asked when he didn’t share any more.
He took another sip of coffee, then put the mug to the counter, his body straightening. Mine straightened with it, automatically bracing.
“We wanna see more of Ethan,” he announced.
Fuck.
He lifted a hand. “I know we live in Indy, but Peg and me think Ethan’s at a time in his life where he needs more time with his dad.”
“Trent—” I tried to get in, but he kept speaking.
“So we want you to consider shared custody. One week with you. One week with us. We won’t change his school or anything. We’ll get up early, get him to school, arrange for him to be picked up so he can get home. We don’t have it all worked out now, but we’re closin’ in on it.”
There were so many things wrong with this idea, my head clogged with them all.
Even in my state, I managed to focus on one.
“You gettin’ up early to get Ethan to school means Ethan’s gotta get up early,” I pointed out.
Trent nodded. “It might be hard in the beginning for him to adjust, but he likes bein’ at Peg’s and my place. Bein’ with his brother and sister. He’ll get used to it because he’ll dig what he gets out of it. And Peg and me are already lookin’ for places on the west side so we’ll be closer to the ’burg and can shave off ten, fifteen minutes of the school commute.”
Okay.
Right.
No way I could do this now.
Truthfully, I didn’t want to do it ever, but there was no way I could do it now.
So I shook my head. “Now’s not a good time to talk about this. We’ll talk later.”
“I figure, you had him all to yourself for so long, never would be a good time. But it still has to get done. He’s ten, almost eleven. He’s gonna stop bein’ a boy soon and needs to find his way to bein’ a man. And you can’t help him with that.”
Okay.
Right.
Trent was going to teach him how to be a man? Trent, on Peg’s leash, could do a better job with that than Colt? Morrie? Jack?
Merry?
No f*cking way.
Now he was pissing me off.
I didn’t let on.
I said, “Trent, like I said, now’s not a good time to talk about this. I gotta get to the store. I got laundry to put in. And I want to clean the house before Ethan gets home from his friend’s.”
“I just want you to tell me you’ll think about it,” he pushed.
“I’ll think about it,” I lied.
I wouldn’t think about it. I might eventually discuss it with my kid, because it was an offer he needed to accept or refuse. But I wouldn’t ever think about it because I already knew what I thought about it.
I hated it.
Trent studied me.
He knew I was lying and his tone became wheedling. “Cheryl, this is the best thing for Ethan.”
“Just sayin’, you’re talkin’ about it when I just told you that I got shit to do.”
He took a step toward me and stopped.
“Think about it,” he urged. “A house in a not-so-great neighborhood, just you and him—and most the time you’re workin’, so he isn’t even with you—when every other week he can be with us at our place. A decent pad that’s bigger. A brother and sister he can watch grow up. A mom and dad to look out for him, there all the time.”
He was right. My neighborhood was not so great.
It didn’t suck either.
Most of my neighbors were old folk whose kids were *s and forgot they existed. Some of them were new couples or new families trying to make a go at life. Good folk, all of them.
But there were a couple of rentals that had renters who were sketchy. However, outside the occasional loud party (which got shut down real quick because my kid needed his sleep and I knew every cop in the department, so I didn’t hesitate to make a call) or a loud fight, they kept to themselves.
But it wasn’t about me feeling defensive about the home I gave my son.
It was his “mom and dad, there all the time” bullshit.
Ethan had a mom.
Me.
In other words, he was no longer pissing me off.
I was there.
“You need to stop,” I warned.