Hold On (The 'Burg Series Book 6)

by Kristen Ashley

  “But I want one.”

  “Then get what you want to decorate this year, and next year, we’ll put a tree in our bedroom.”

  I stared into his eyes.

  That came right out. No hesitation, it came right out. Right out of Garrett Merrick’s mouth.

  I told him I wanted a tree in the bedroom; he told me to get what I want.

  A girl who didn’t dream sure as hell was smart enough never to want. She took what she could get and that was that.

  And just like that, no hesitation, I wanted something silly.

  And Merry gave me what I wanted.

  “You want us to move in with you.”

  My voice was funny—quiet, husky.

  His voice was not quiet or husky. It was deep and kind of incredulous, like he couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it out yet.

  “Of course I do, brown eyes. I bought this house for you.”

  My throat suddenly felt tight.

  He…

  What?

  I kept staring as I forced out, “What?”

  “More house than I needed at a price higher than I wanted. But you liked it. You like water. Ethan’s got his space. We got ours. We got together space. We got expansion space. So I bought it.”

  I kept staring at him, but something happened while I did.

  He watched me a beat, saw that something happen, and said, “Fuck, you’re gonna cry again, aren’t you?”

  I slapped his shoulder and snapped, “I’ve cried once with you, Merry. Once.”

  “Well, this time I don’t have time to get you through it. I gotta get Ethan to school.”

  I gotta get Ethan to school.

  He took my kid to school every day. Every day. Unless he was out on an early morning case, which was rare, it was no fail.

  Every day.

  Mornings were now our thing, the three of us, but the school run was Merry and Ethan’s thing.

  I felt wet hit my cheek.

  “Shit,” he muttered, watching the tear fall.

  “Stop making me happy,” I whispered.

  His eyes came back to mine and his were dancing.

  But when he replied, he was whispering too.

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “You need to be annoying on a more regular basis,” I demanded softly.

  His body started shaking and his voice was doing it as well when he stated, “That’s not gonna happen either.”

  “Okay, then you need to go because I have a lake house Christmas theme to plan and execute and that’s not gonna happen when you’re standing here being awesome.”

  He audibly started laughing, and in the middle of it, he kissed me.

  His laughter tasted great on my tongue.

  The best.

  “Okay, guys,” Ethan shouted. “Are you done with the gooey? ’Cause I been waitin’ in the hall, like, forever. I might not wanna get to school, but I’m cruisin’ toward perfect attendance third year running, which includes not being tardy, and, you take much longer, you’re messin’ with that mojo.”

  Merry broke the kiss, and when he did, my tears had subsided.

  This was because Merry’s kiss, as ever, was a good one.

  It was also because my man and I were standing in his kitchen in his lake house, which would soon be my kitchen in our lake house, and we were staring at each other, laughing at my kid.

  And I was finding I had a life that was filled with a lot of that.

  Laughter.

  So now, for a different reason, I had no room for tears.

  * * * * *

  I stood in Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe in her enormous Christmas section that was renown throughout the Midwest. It was this because it was so huge, she had to dedicate half her shop to it and half her parking lot, seeing as she had massive heavy-duty, heated tents where more of her Christmas crap was displayed.

  I was there and had been for forty-five minutes.

  But I found what I was looking for.

  So there I stood, staring at a Christmas tree, and I was pretty certain I was going to buy the whole damn thing as it was—ornament by ornament, garland by garland—and resurrect it in Merry’s awesome new lake house. It was boho to the max, colorful with lots of berries and crystals and differently sized and shaped ornaments, very cluttered, stuffed full, totally awesome.

  There was no other tree in Bobbie’s whole shop like it.

  But I’d had a look at a couple of the ornaments, and even with Vi’s discount, to recreate that tree would cost a thousand dollars.

  It was perfect for Merry’s pad, so I did not care.

  Okay, that wasn’t true. It was perfect for me (I still didn’t care).

  What I cared about was something else.

  I whipped out my phone, jabbed my finger on the screen, and put it to my ear.

  “Hey, babe. What’s shakin’?” Vi asked in greeting.

  “Do you think Merry would lose his mind if I bought pink and purple Christmas tree ornaments?”

  “How many?”

  “A lot.”

  “Okay, then, one hundred percent affirmative on him losing his mind.”

  “Shit,” I muttered, already kind of knowing that was the answer.

  “Say one ornament that you put on the inside of a branch close to the trunk that’s mostly hidden and he can’t see, you might get away with that. But more than that? No go.”

  I stared at the tree. “What about canary yellow? And teal?”

  “Negatory and negatory.”

  “Lace cutout stars?”

  Her voice was getting shrill either with hilarity, disbelief, or both when she asked, “Have you met Garrett Merrick?”

  “Shit,” I muttered again.

  “I thought you guys already decorated.”

  “We did. My house. But we decided this morning we’re doin’ Christmas at Merry’s. So I need a whole new tree.”

  “Ooo, sweet. Christmas by the lake. Awesome.”

  She was not wrong.

  “Fake tree?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. He said he’d get one. That could mean anything.”

  “He’s a guy. If he says he’ll get one, that means it’ll be real and you’ll be cleaning up pine needles until February. You’ll also have a time of it talking him out of going somewhere and chopping one down himself just so he can chop down a tree. My advice, babe? Focus on those things, primarily talking him into a fake tree so you don’t have to vacuum pine needles for two months, not wasting time talking him into pink ornaments. Trust me on this. You got a badass in your bed, you learn to pick your battles.”

  I had a badass in my bed. I loved him. I wanted to keep him there. So I should listen to Vi. She had a lot of experience. She’d married a badass in the making when she was eighteen, and he’d grown into a full-blown one who unfortunately got dead way too soon. She’d then married an even bigger one who kept knocking her up when she wanted to concentrate on hoping her second child didn’t get knocked up by her own badass boyfriend at the same time keeping an eye on the fact that her oldest daughter had begun dating a badass cop in Chicago.

  Yes, I should listen to Vi. She lived and breathed badass.

  Whatever you want.

  Merry said that a lot.

  To me and to my kid.

  I stared at the tree.

  Not only would it be awesome this year, it’d be even more awesome in the master suite next year. Our tree. Merry’s and mine.

  Whatever you want.

  “Bobbie gonna give me your discount?” I asked Vi.

  “You’re buyin’ pink ornaments, aren’t you?” she asked back.

  “Merry likes me to have what I want,” I told her.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s why I have my new lavender bed set that Joe said he’d sleep on over his dead body. Then again, that’s also why Joe’s got his next kid in my womb.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, feeling squishy she had that and now I did too. Decision made, I muttered, “This tree is
gonna cost a mint.”

  “I’ll call Bobbie. See what she can swing for you.”

  “Thanks, Vi.”

  “No probs, babe. See you later.”

  “Later.”

  I shoved my phone in my purse and moved to the baskets under the tree. I was filling my cart with boho Christmas when Bobbie wandered up to me.

  She looked to the cart then to me. “Shit, I was gonna offer you thirty percent instead of Vi’s twenty-five, but you goin’ whole hog like that this late in the season, I’ll give you forty. Just tell ’em at the register you’re Vi’s friend and Bobbie says forty. They give you shit, make them page me.”

  With that, she wandered away.

  But I was grinning because forty was brilliant. It didn’t make this doable. I still had a grill to buy (housewarming). I also had a phone to buy (Merry’s screen was cracked and it drove me crazy in a way I didn’t know how it didn’t drive him crazy, so I was doing something about it, and what I was doing was for Christmas).

  But for boho Christmas at Merry’s new lake house, for the first time since I’d clawed my way out from under it, I’d carry a balance on my credit card for a month (or two).

  I’d also continue to cut back on the candy. The makeup was a wash since I was setting up my stash at Merry’s. Our first Christmas with Merry and spoiling my man, though, I’d sacrifice my candy.

  Totally.

  I got the tree stuff for me. I got the expensive lights for Merry. And I got some matching garlands to put on Merry’s mantel because, if you had a mantel at Christmas, it had to be decorated and I was pretty sure I could talk Merry into believing that.

  But even I knew I was pushing it (but couldn’t stop myself) when I bought Christmas kitchen towels.

  I was loading all of this in the back of the Equinox when I heard, “You do know you ruined my life.”

  I stopped loading and looked to Mia Merrick, who was standing by my cart, holding a potted poinsettia curled in each arm.

  Shit.

  Why?

  Really.

  Why?

  Why couldn’t I just have an excellent day?

  A day where I woke up in Merry’s arms, my kid safe and snug and warm under his roof in his new awesome lake house that had new double-paned windows and a new furnace.

  A day where Merry made us pancakes and teamed up with my kid to give me shit, which I would for eternity (if I had the shot) make them think annoyed me when I secretly loved every second of it.

  A day where Merry said he wanted Christmas and he wanted us to move in with him.

  A day where I could buy a bunch of Christmas crap that (best case) Merry was going to think was hilariously me or (worst case) Merry was going to hate. For the former, he’d just tease me, and if it was the latter, he’d still let me have what I want.

  Why, from the parking lot of Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe, couldn’t I go to the grocery store, buy a tube of premade Christmas cookie dough (cookie dough was not candy, so it didn’t count) and some Pringles (because we were low), go home, make Christmas cookies for my boys, and decorate a tree my man (and maybe my kid) were gonna hate?

  Why?

  Why couldn’t all that just be without anything fucking with it?

  “Mia, really, today’s been a good day and I’m not—” I started.

  She got closer to me (something I liked even less than her being there at all) and cut me off. “Today’s been a good day? Has it, Cher? Has it been a good day for you? Well, how lucky you are. Because today and yesterday and the last three months have been shit for me…” Her face twisted before she finished, “Because of you.”

  No wonder Merry scraped her off. She was a pain in the ass.

  “If you think I’m lucky, babe, then—” I tried again.

  I didn’t get far.

  “Do I think you’re lucky?” she sniped. Her gaze cut inside my car and back to me, and her voice degenerated significantly when she asked, “Merry needs Christmas decorations for his new house?”

  Okay, right.

  I was done. I didn’t need this and I wasn’t going to have it.

  So I was going to end it.

  “If you’ve deluded yourself into thinking I’m the cause of all your problems, that’s your gig, Mia. It has nothing to do with me. Take it elsewhere,” I stated.

  “Deluded?” she asked, coming even closer. “Isn’t it you who’s fucking my husband?”

  “No. It’s me who’s fucking Garrett Merrick, who isn’t your husband. Now, step back,” I demanded.

  She didn’t step back.

  “He’ll come back to me,” she declared.

  “Whatever,” I muttered, grabbed the handles of the last bag in the cart and put it into my car.

  “He will. He’ll come back. It’s him and me and everyone knows it,” she pushed.

  “Really? Are you that deep in the fantasy? How sad.”

  I didn’t say that.

  My head turned at the new voice.

  And when I saw who was behind it, I stopped dead.

  I did this because, joining our tableau, was Susie Shepherd.

  And her catty, bitch-from-hell eyes were aimed at Mia.

  I didn’t know Susie. Not at all. She never came into the bar partly because she was Colt’s ex, partly because she was kidnapped by Denny Lowe and shot by him during her time as a hostage, and partly because everyone in town knew she’d sold her story, which made the residue of Lowe’s journey of lunacy last a lot longer.

  She was also known ’burg-wide as a soulless, selfish, spoiled bitch.

  This was evidenced by the fact that she and her partner in crime, Tina Blackstone (who did come into J&J’s, regrettably, since the bitch didn’t tip), wreaked havoc countywide in a variety of ways they were committed to to the point it seemed like a mission.

  These included targeting married men with their charms (and unfortunately, since Susie was very attractive, she was successful with this). They gossiped viciously with the few friends they had, spreading that gossip as far and as wide as they could, even if it was all lies. And they threw down easily and frequently whenever the spirit moved them (even to the point of Susie going at it with Vi right in front of Cal, who Susie had fucked, a fact she’d shared with Vi right in front of Cal).

  Everyone in town hated her.

  I only knew her because I’d seen pictures of her in conjunction with reports about Lowe’s mayhem and I’d seen her around town here and there.

  But in the grand scheme of things in the ’burg, I knew one thing for certain: if your day was filled with happiness and light or it was the worst kind of crap, Susie Shepherd could darken it exponentially.

  Shit.

  “Your input isn’t needed here, Susie,” Mia snapped.

  “You aren’t needed here, Mia,” Susie snapped back, then looked at me, throwing out a disgusted hand. “I mean, seriously. Normally? Rude. But it’s Christmas.” She shook her head. “Some people.”

  I stared at Susie in shock.

  Mia didn’t.

  She turned fully to her and shared, “I was having a private conversation with Cher.”

  “You were staking your claim to Merrick. Again. I don’t get it, Mia. The man’s so over you, it’s embarrassing. I mean,” she jerked her head to me, “she’s all but shacked up with him, in Bobbie’s parking lot with a trunk full of Christmas decorations they’re gonna put on a tree in his new house and probably fuck under, and you get in her face.” She shook her head and concluded, “It’s not embarrassing, it’s plain sad.”

  I watched this all going down with some fascination at the same time I made a mental note to find time to fuck Merry under our new boho Christmas tree.

  “Your opinion is unwanted,” Mia shot back.

  “Just trying to help a sister save face,” Susie said with false concern. “I mean, why you haven’t left town yet, I do not know.”

  “You are asking me that?” Mia retorted.

  Susie shrugged. “Yeah. The words did come out
of my mouth two seconds ago.”

  Mia decided she was done, declaring this fact by saying, “Just go away. This is none of your business.”

  I braced when Susie suddenly took two steps forward, getting right in Mia’s space and face, and hissed, “It is my business.” She lifted a hand and jabbed a finger my way. “She’s happy. He fucked her over, but now she’s finally happy and you’re in a goddamned parking lot fucking with that. So it is my business, Mia. Stay out of her face or you’ll find mine all up in yours. And, baby girl, get me. Your kitten claws might sting, but you tangle with me, I’ll shred you.”

  Holy fuck!

  Susie was throwing down.

  For me.

  “So you two are Denny Lowe sisters, is that it?” Mia bit back.

  “Yeah,” Susie whispered. “Yeah we are. We don’t wanna be, but we are. And, just in case you aren’t getting this, because we are, you don’t fuck with us.”

  Whoa.

  Susie was totally throwing down.

  For me.

  I was attempting to process this and how I felt about it when I braced again. This was because Susie’s eyes lifted from Mia and she tensed.

  Visibly.

  Susie visibly tensed and I watched the blood drain clean from her face.

  Then she started backing up.

  Her mouth moved.

  It moved again.

  No sound came out.

  “What?” I asked.

  Her mouth moved, and again, no sound came out.

  “Susie, are you okay?”

  She looked to me.

  Then she screamed, “Run!”

  And that was when the gunshots exploded.

  * * * * *

  Garrett

  “Pink.”

  Garrett turned in line at Mimi’s Coffee Shop to see Cal behind him, his baby son asleep and strapped to his chest, his little girl in front of him in a stroller, the key fob to Cal’s truck half an inch from Angela’s face, a clear object of fascination.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Pink,” Cal repeated, looked to Mike at Garrett’s side, his eyes fucking alight with humor.

  Shit.

  “And, I hear, some purple,” Cal went on.

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Garrett asked.

  “Vi reported in. The ornaments for your tree. Brace, man. Cher’s testin’ you,” Cal told him.

  Pink Christmas ornaments.

  Did they even make pink Christmas ornaments?