Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(60)

He then disconnected.

I didn’t move, one hand to my phone at my ear, the other one curled around the edge of the sink, holding on like it was a lifeline.

He finds out what’s goin’ down two doors from his bitch, he will lose his motherf*cking mind.

What was going on?

Merrick keeps a loose hold on messy.

I knew that. I’d learned from a lot of experience, as well as making too many mistakes, how to read people.

The good ole boy Merry was surface. You could scratch through that using your fingernail and not a lot of effort.

Man’ll stop at nothin’ to dig you out, even if it buries him in the process.

I knew that too.

Shit.

All that, and Tilly wasn’t even home.

“Mom?”

I drew in breath, dropped the phone from my ear, let go of the sink, and turned to see Ethan in the doorway.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” he asked, shifting and eyeing me anxiously. “I was tryin’ to do the right thing.”

I drew in another breath and forced my body to relax when I let it go.

Then I told him, “I know that, Ethan. And it was the right thing in one way. There’s nothin’ wrong with you wantin’ to look out for your momma. But it was also the wrong thing since I’d told you to stay inside.”

He bit his lip.

I moved to him but didn’t crouch like I used to. He was getting tall, not quite there yet, but he needed to learn to use what he had. What he didn’t need was to learn how to put up with someone being condescending, crouching into him because he was a kid, even if they didn’t mean to be.

“You’re the man of this house,” I told him and watched his chest expand with pride. “But, kid, you’re also still a kid. Ask Colt, Sul, Mike—any of them will tell you a man’s gotta know his strengths and his weaknesses. He’s gotta learn to judge situations right. And they’ll also tell you any kid who’s still a kid, no matter it sucks, no matter the situation scares them and they wanna help, they gotta do what their momma says.”

His shoulders slumped.

God, most of the time, being a mom rocked.

It was just times like this when it absolutely didn’t.

Quickly, I continued, “In that situation, you shoulda got the phone and kept an eye on me through the window. You got a bad vibe, you could call Colt or the police or something. That way, you had my back but also did as I asked. But seein’ as nothin’ like that is gonna happen again, it doesn’t matter. Life is life. You learn from it. Today, you learned.”

Gazing up at me, he nodded.

“Right,” I muttered.

“That guy kinda seems like bad news. Are you sure nothin’ like that is gonna happen again?”

“I think your read on him is right. He’s not a dude like the dudes we like to hang with, so both of us should keep our distance. But I also think his crap is his, so if we do that, it’ll all be good.”

He nodded again.

“Now, I gotta finish gettin’ ready, honey. You good to go to your gram’s?” I asked.

“Yeah, Mom.”

“Right, let’s get to that part of our day.”

He grinned at me and got out of the doorway.

I took in another breath and headed to my bedroom.

* * * * *

Monday Night

Whether it was intentionally good timing or not, Trent phoned at the perfect moment, right before I was about to slide out of my car and hit work for the night shift.

He’d texted twice more since the first two.

I’d been blowing him off.

I needed to stop doing that so he’d leave me alone. He also needed to think on things and I needed to give him the things he needed to think about.

So I took the call with a “Hey, Trent.”

“Texted you a million times, Cheryl,” he exaggerated.

“I know. I’m sorry. Things were busy,” I semi-lied.

“Ethan told me he’s not comin’ to see me and Peg this weekend,” he shared irately.

I beat back a sigh.

“As you know, Trent, this gig is Ethan’s,” I replied. “He gets to decide when he wants to see you. He’s back at school now so it’s sleepover time, and the good stuff happens with his buds on weekends.”

“He needs to spend time with his father.”

Trent said the words, but they came right out of Peggy’s mouth.

“All right, I gotta get to work in a minute, but you should know, Ethan and I had a talk about you and Peg wantin’ to spend more time with him and he doesn’t like that idea. He digs you. Your wife. Your kids. But he’s feelin’ the need to take things with you slow and that’s his call. So if he needs space, you’re gonna give it to him.”

“He’s a kid, Cheryl. He doesn’t get to make those calls.”

More Peggy.

“He’s a kid, Trent, you’re right. But he isn’t five. He’s nearly eleven. He knows his own mind, what he wants, what feels good to him. He’s at a time where he’s gotta explore makin’ his own decisions and how that plays out. We gotta let him.”

“He’s too young to start that kind of thing. He needs guidance,” father of the century Trent Schott educated me.

I sought patience (not my strong suit) and returned, “I’m not sayin’ he doesn’t need guidance. I’m just sayin’ he needs some freedom and space.”