Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(61)

“He can have all the freedom and space he wants when he’s thirty. Now, bein’ a kid, he needs his old man helpin’ him learn to be a man.”

And more Peggy.

But it would be Peggy teaching him to be a man.

The thought turned my stomach and I clenched my teeth to beat back my response to that.

This, unfortunately, allowed Trent to carry on.

“You need to tell him he’s gotta come and stay with Peg and me. This weekend. We’ll pick him up from your place at five thirty on Friday.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Trent.”

“Then I’ll tell him, and if he’s not there, just sayin’, Cheryl, that’s a mistake you don’t wanna make.”

“Okay,” I snapped, having had enough. “This is the deal—you got no rights in this situation, Trent. Not until a judge says what rights you got. You wanna drag my son through that, I can guaran-damn-tee you that you’re gonna drive him further away from you than you already are, pushin’ me with this shit. Now, we can avoid that and do right by Ethan if we calm down, sit down, talk somethin’ through that’ll work for all of us, and by ‘all of us,’ I mean it works for Ethan. But he’s tellin’ you right now he needs a break. That gives us a golden opportunity to sort shit out so when he’s ready for more, we got it set up with an understanding between us how that’s gonna go.”

“Pushin’ you with this?” he asked. “You tell him we pushed?”

We.

She wasn’t even there when he pushed.

God, there was no Trent.

It was only Trent and Peggy.

Which meant there was only Peggy.

“I don’t lie to my kid,” I shared. “So yeah, I told him the good news that his dad likes hangin’ with him, but that came with the bad news that his dad did not respect me by communicatin’ that right. That is not my issue. You f*cked that up.”

“You’re tryin’ to turn my son from me. From me and Peg.”

Me and Peg.

Barf.

“No, Trent, you don’t see what’s happenin’ here. I’m tryin’ to tell you that you are f*ckin’ this up, and I’m also givin’ you advice on how not to do that. You decide not to take it, you bear the consequences.”

“Peg and me show at your place Friday, Cheryl, my son isn’t there, you’ll hear from our attorney,” he warned.

Like he had an attorney.

“Whatever, Trent. It isn’t like you haven’t put me through the wringer before. Not like he’s a stupid kid and doesn’t know the life he’s led, I led, part of that bein’ because of the choices you made. Do it again. You’re such a dumb f*ck you don’t see I’m a scrapper, especially when it comes to my kid, and I always come out standing, your mistake. But to save you some time and gas money, my kid is not gonna be at my house on Friday at five thirty for you to pick him up. Ethan’ll let you know when he’s ready. Until then, last advice I give, wait for him to come around. You do, you’ll be golden. You don’t, you risk losin’ him forever.”

I disconnected, threw my phone in my purse, and hauled my ass out to go to work.

I did this hoping we’d have a busy night. I needed a ton of tips.

Because I had a feeling I might be facing attorney’s fees.

* * * * *

Two hours later, I stared down at the end of the bar where Colt and Sully were bent over their beers, looking at each other, smiling and chuckling.

Feb was on. Jackie was looking after Colt and Feb’s little Jack.

This happened. Colt liked to hang with his woman when she was on.

Then again, Colt just liked to be with his woman and they both liked to give their son’s gramma time to be with her grandson.

Drew Mangold, another detective, had been in. He’d left fifteen minutes ago.

Mike had been there too. When I got there, he’d been sitting with Colt and Sully, shooting the shit, an after-work drink that led to two with cop bonding. But he’d left less than half an hour after I hit the bar for my shift.

No Merry.

He didn’t come into J&J’s every day.

But he was a regular. Once a week, more often two or three times, sometimes more.

It had nearly been a week since I blew things up.

He was avoiding me.

This scared me. He didn’t seem the kind to hold a grudge. He was a straight shooter. He had a problem with you, he told you to your face and didn’t delay (not that he’d ever had a problem with me, but I’d seen him have problems with other people and that was what he did).

He was not doing this with me.

He also wasn’t living his life as he had so there was an opening for us to gloss over it and move on.

So it was safe to say I was worried. I’d not apologized. I’d not reached out in any way. There was no door open he could slide through so we could start the work to get back to the him and me that used to be.

My attention was called, a customer wanting a draft.

I pulled it, all the ugly shit that had come out of my mouth that I’d aimed at Merry slamming through my brain as I did.

I served the draft. The guy paid. I got a good tip that would probably pay for half a second of an attorney’s time. I moved down the bar after a scan showed me some drinks needed refills.