Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(51)

“That’s not gonna happen for a couple of years, kid,” I told him quietly.

“Right, but you know I’m good, even if you’re not good with it yet, right?”

I could give him that for sure, so I did.

I nodded. “I know you’re good.”

“And, like, that’s gonna be the way it’ll be and then what for you, Mom? If I’m not around, who are you gonna be with? Who’s gonna be around to make you happy?”

God, my eyes felt like they were growing in my head, pushing the boundaries of their sockets, and it hurt like crazy.

“That isn’t something you need to worry about, baby,” I said, and his head jolted.

“If I don’t think about stuff like this, who will?” he asked. “Not you,” he answered himself and kept going. “It’s like you’re all about me, and that’s cool. That’s part of you bein’ a cool mom, you know, bein’ into video games and things like that, but also how you are lookin’ after me. But that’s all you are, Mom. You, like…work, then you, like…look out for me. And that’s it. I mean, Merry’s a super-cool dude and I know he’d be totally into you, but he wouldn’t think to ask because you’re all about lookin’ out for me. He knows he’d get shot down, so why bother?”

Yep, I was right. Even though he wasn’t entirely correct, still, my kid was too sharp for his own good.

“And Merry’s the only cool one left,” Ethan informed me gravely. “He’s really tall, and he’s totally funny, and he wears suits like they’re jeans. The girls at school who know him think he’s hot for an old guy. I mean, there’s Marty and he’s all right, but he’s also kind of a goof. And you deserve someone like Merry, not a guy who’s all right but also kind of a goof.”

This was going on too long, and if it went on much longer, no joke, it might just kill me.

“You’re about to get around six weeks of gooey,” I returned, hoping to shut him up.

He knew what I was hoping and shook his head, exasperated. “You’re just sayin’ that to shut me up when you shouldn’t because this is important.” He leaned toward me. “I liked it when Merry woke me up this morning. He was funny and he showed me how that wire got disconnected in the waffle iron, so if it happens again, I can fix it. And we both were bein’ real quiet ’cause you were sleepin’ and he made that funny too. But I know we both felt good doin’ it, knowin’ you don’t get a lot of sleep.”

God, Ethan really dug having Merry around.

Damn.

“Ethan, honey—”

He threw his controller down on the couch between us and crossed his arms on his little man chest, interrupting me. “I just want you to be happy. I know Gramma does too. She worries. She’s a mom, just like you, but I got you to look after me. She’s a mom with a kid who doesn’t have anyone who’ll look after her.”

And my kid was good at laying the guilt on too.

Shit.

“I’m an adult and I can look after myself, baby. I can look after both of us,” I told him.

“I know you can, Mom,” he declared impatiently. “But that doesn’t mean you should. Not alone. Not when you’re pretty and cool and funny and like football and should have a guy around who likes you just as much as Gram and me.”

“I can’t just order a guy off a menu, kid,” I told him jokingly, hoping to cut through his serious vibe because it didn’t sit real well that my son worried about me at all, but especially not feeling it this deeply.

It was the wrong thing to say, and I knew this when he set his little man jaw and turned his eyes angrily to the TV.

“You wanna look after me,” I surmised gently.

He tightened his arms on his chest.

Okay, I had to do something.

But God, what I had to do was lie to my kid.

“I’ll be happy someday, Ethan.” There was the lie. Then I gave him a kind of truth. “You’re right, you’re gettin’ older and I should let go a bit and take some time seein’ to me. I’ll do that, promise.” When he didn’t look to me, I prompted, “Yeah?”

It took him a second, but eyes still to the TV, he grunted, “Yeah.”

“I just love you a lot, baby,” I whispered and watched his chin wobble before he got control of it. “You’re the best thing I ever did and I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

He turned surly eyes to me. “I already won’t.”

“That’s good news,” I muttered.

He pushed it. “And I want you to promise that when I turn twelve, you’ll let me walk home by myself so you or Gram or Vi don’t have to come and get me.”

“How about we talk about that when you’re about to turn twelve,” I suggested. “Deal?”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, looking back at the TV.

I let out a sigh, then made a decision.

“Since we’ve already jumped headfirst into the intense, and you just laid it out to your mom that you’re growin’ up and I need to have a mind to that, there’s somethin’ I gotta talk to you about.”

He couldn’t hide his curiosity when he looked back to me.

“What?” he asked.