“If Schott wants a part of Ethan’s life, he’s gotta make the effort,” Garrett finished.

She took Garrett in. She twisted back and took her son in.

Then she said, “Right,” and looked at her pad of paper.

She was blowing it off, but it was pretend. He saw the tense line of her shoulders.

She was worried about her kid, but she wasn’t going to baby him. She was going to let him make his own decisions.

It was a good call. It was time for her to give Ethan that and for Ethan to learn how to do it right.

He’d touch base with her later, after he dropped Ethan at school, to make sure she was good.

Garrett turned back to the stove and flipped the pancakes.

Then he felt it, so he turned back.

Ethan was looking at him.

He had a weird look on his face. Suddenly, his shoulders came up really high, almost to his ears.

He mouthed, “Thanks,” quickly dropped his shoulders, and gave his attention back to his food.

Garrett looked back to the griddle.

In his line of work, Garrett had seen it time and again.

As much of a loser as Trent Schott was, any boy felt the absence of a father straight through everything that he was.

Everything.

With a good father who wasn’t perfect but gave it his best shot, Garrett didn’t know if it was better to have that hole go unfilled than to have some moron make a half-assed attempt to fill it. And with Dave as his dad, Garrett would never know the answer to that.

He just had to hope that one day Ethan would find him and share it so he could do whatever he could to help him get past it.

On these thoughts, Garrett felt a burn that he could only extinguish knowing they had a reservation for Swank’s and he had an envelope on his bar at home with three Colts tickets in it.

He flipped a pancake, calling, “You gonna want more, bud?”

“Yeah,” Ethan answered. “One, maybe two. Thanks, Merry.”

“Whatever you want, kid,” he muttered to the pancakes.

He said those words and felt it again. Ethan’s eyes on his back. Maybe even Cher’s too.

He didn’t turn.

He made his woman and her son pancakes.

* * * * *

Wednesday Evening

“I thought he was full of it,” Ethan declared before he lifted his eyes from his plate. “But Brendon did not lie.” He raised his fork, which had a chunk of steak skewered on its tips. “You can cut these steaks with your fork.”

“It’s a miracle,” Grace muttered, all dolled up, looking nearly as pretty as her daughter in part because of the happy smile she was aiming right then at her grandson.

But she was wrong.

It wasn’t a miracle.

It was a prime cut of beef that cost fifty-three dollars.

It was also worth every penny. And Garrett knew that to be true as he watched Ethan shove the chunk of steak into his mouth, his eyes going round with marvel.

He felt something slink up the leg of his trousers and looked to his woman at his side.

Now he was wrong.

Grace looked pretty.

But all done up for their night out, Cher was fucking dazzling.

She was also looking at him.

And her look told him she loved him. It also told him she loved what he was giving to her son.

So yeah.

Absolutely.

A fifty-three-dollar steak was a damned expensive steak.

But it was worth every fucking penny.

* * * * *

Thursday Afternoon

Garrett stood on the porch, looking out to the water.

He’d finally had time to schedule the viewing.

And there he was.

The bathrooms were in worse shape than he’d thought.

The rest of it was better than he could’ve imagined.

Especially the view.

His real estate agent stood with him.

“I’m not sure they’re going to accept that offer, Garrett,” she remarked.

“The place needs work,” he told her, something she knew.

“They’re aware of that, which is why they’ve dropped the price seventy-five K.”

“Comps show my offer is not an insult,” he returned.

“Maybe so, but the market is reviving.”

He turned to look at her. “Make the offer. Be cool about it so they don’t shut us out. There’s room to move.”

“You might need a lot of room. They give the impression they’re entrenched.”

He looked back to the water.

I like water.

“I gotta get back to work,” he murmured, then turned again to his agent, leveling his eyes on hers. “Make the offer. I don’t care you gotta make magic, Diane. Get me this house.”

“Okay, Garrett,” she replied.

He nodded.

He then took another look inside the opened door at the big great room, its fantastic kitchen, its phenomenal hearth, all the warm and welcoming space.

He turned the other way and took a last look at the water, which could be seen from the kitchen. The living room. The study. The room that could be Ethan’s. The master suite, which was all the way on the other side of the house from the study and other two bedrooms.

And with one last glance at his agent, he went to his truck and got back to work.

* * * * *

Saturday Morning

Garrett was on his way out the door to head to Cher’s to help her with Ethan’s party when his phone rang.

After glancing at the screen, he took the call.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“I made magic,” Diane said.

Garrett smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Two

On Top

Cher

“I’m sorry, we don’t have more tiki torches.”

“How can you not have more tiki torches? This is a party place. We’re having a luau. A luau is a party. Which is why I’m shoppin’ at a party place. And you can’t have a luau without tiki torches.”

“Sir, it’s October in Indiana.”

“So?”

“We sell down stock of tiki torches after summer in order to make room for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas items.”

“You should be ready for every occasion.”

“We pride ourselves in being that. That’s why you currently have twelve tiki torches here. But I’m afraid we don’t have more right now. And just a suggestion, next time, should you want something in high quantities, if you give us a call beforehand, we’ll be happy to order it for you.”

“Twelve isn’t a high quantity. It’s a perfectly reasonable quantity unless you need twenty, and I need twenty.”

“Again, I apologize. We just don’t have twenty.”

“I barely have enough leis and grass skirts. And, just to say, neither are very high quality.”

“I’m sorry you think that as well, sir. But—”

“Yo!” Merry barked.

I jumped at the sound, pulled from my focus on my extreme annoyance at being an audience to this sheer ridiculousness when Merry and me had a ton of Star Wars and other party shit in four collective baskets, a cake to pick up, decorating to do, and later, merrymaking to achieve for my son.

Plus, my mother was at my house with my kid, helping me get ready by doing what she called “light cleaning.” This meant she was going to move shit around to where she thought it should be, which was what she always did when she jumped at the chance to do some “light cleaning” before some event I had at my house. This also meant it’d take weeks to find the shit she moved, something which was nearly more annoying than the selfish, thoughtless, in-a-hurry human population you encountered when you were out running errands (but just nearly).

Needless to say, I didn’t have time for an asshole on a tiki torch mission in Indiana for a luau he was giving in fucking October.

I looked up at Merry to see he agreed.

He’d also shoved his jacket back on both sides and had his hands on his hips.

There was no badge on his belt, seeing as he was off-duty.

Thus, I wondered how this would go.

That said, Merry was tall and lean and badass. The guy with the torches was not tall and was kinda doughy, so I had high hopes it would go well…and, hopefully, fast.