“Fuck,” Merry clipped. “Find a time, babe. You don’t, payback’ll stack up and I’ll have to take personal days and hole up in a hotel with you for a week. And there’s not a doubt that stick-up-her-ass church lady your ex tied his shit to won’t appreciate you bein’ gone from your kid for a weeklong fuckathon.”

That was kind of funny as well as hot.

I still said nothing.

Merry fell silent and stared at me.

Then he dealt the second biggest verbal blow I’d ever received in my life.

“Christ, you’re pretty, even standin’ there plotting my murder.”

After that, he lifted a hand, grabbed me gentle but firm at my neck, yanked me up so my mouth hit his hard but brief, then he let me go.

“Later, babe,” he said, strolling to my door. He stopped in it, turned to me, and bid his farewell by saying, “You touch those storms only to put them in the garage.”

He closed the door on that.

I stood where he left me.

If I didn’t know you were worth it…

What was I worth?

What was I worth to Merry?

I stared at the door, again breathing but not knowing what to think.

Not even knowing what was happening.

How had it gone from a drunken fuck, after which he was going to blow me off, to him investigating Trent and Peggy, demanding I find a time when I could offer his brand of payback, and him not only telling me I was pretty, but I was “worth it?”

It would seem me and Merry had to have a chat where we were not fighting or talking about my ex and his bitch’s diabolical plans.

And I would suggest just that to him later, when he’d cooled down and when we were both far apart from each other.

I left the storm windows where they were. Merry wanted to put them in, at that juncture, I was not going to test his mood by going against his wishes.

Instead, I went to the laptop me and Ethan shared.

I powered that baby up.

Then I found Riverside Baptist Church and its program Faith Saves. I read every word.

Twice.

* * * * *

“Takin’ my last break,” I told Jack, who was behind the bar.

“Make it a good one,” Jack replied.

I said nothing and went to the office.

Mondays during the day were not big days at J&J’s. We had the odd drifter. Weather allowed, we had biker boys who knew J&J’s was welcoming, so if they slid through town, they’d stop to play a couple of games of pool and throw back some brews. We had regulars with no jobs but the miraculous ability to buy drinks.

I was on early for the week, going nights next week, which was Feb and Morrie’s way with scheduling to make sure Ruthie nor me took a hit from having to do all early.

Luckily, things looked up around five, and when I did early, I usually got my breaks and lunch out of the way when it was not after five because that was when the tips were made. I didn’t need to be sitting on my ass, eating, when I could be making money.

Although cops had imprecise schedules, detective shifts were eight to five officially. If anything happened beyond that, the on call cop went in.

So unusually that day, I waited for my break until six thirty, when Merry was off. The autumn light was waning, which meant the storm windows were probably in before I phoned him.

He picked up on the second ring, greeting, “Hey.”

“Hey,” I replied, and it occurred to me that, although we had each other’s numbers, I didn’t think I’d ever phoned him.

We’d texted things, like him asking me, You bringing that bacon potato salad to Vi’s party? (which meant, bring it, and so I always did), and me texting him, Colts lost. You owe me twenty bucks.

But I’d never phoned him.

“Cher?” he called, and I shook my head sharply.

“Looked up Riverside Baptist Church. That Faith Saves thing looks pretty legit.”

“They’re not gonna tell everyone on the Internet they’re freaky-ass zealots intent on saving the world by kidnapping recovering addicts and brainwashing them.”

My hand tightened on my phone, my mind thinking of Trent’s devotion to Peg. “Holy fuck, Merry. Do you think that’s what they’re doing?”

There was humor in his deep voice when he replied, “Calm down, sweetheart. No. Just tellin’ you as you look into the shit that I feed you, don’t judge a book by its cover. We get it, we won’t go surface—we’ll look deeper. But I’ll do the digging.”

Okay, right, this was one of several things that had to stop, and to stop it, we had to talk.

“I have Wednesday and Friday off this week,” I declared.

“Fuck, I just got the weekend off,” he returned.

He was thinking I was planning payback time.

“Can we do lunch on Wednesday?” I asked.

“Mike and me bought a case this weekend, which means we’re officially over our recommended caseload. Until we clear some, lunch is a memory for me.”

I moved to the chair at the desk and sat in it before saying, “We need to talk, Merry.”

“What’re we doin’ right now, Cher?”

“I’m on a break.”

“So call me when Ethan goes to bed.”

“That’ll be late.”

There was humor in his voice again when he replied, “Not like you aren’t used to late nights.”

“This talk we need to have needs to be face-to-face.”

Merry had no reply to that, humor-filled or not.

I rushed to fill the silence.

“What we had…before…it was good. We fucked it up. We’re still fuckin’ it up, playin’ these games. We should sit down, talk it through, get back to that good. It’s the best thing for both of us, Merry, and we both know it.”

He didn’t agree. He didn’t anything, so I rushed to fill that silence too.

“And Trent said they just wanted to see Ethan more. I didn’t want to talk about it when he was in the mood to push it, and things went south from there. Before I blow it up with them, maybe I should sit down with Ethan and see how he feels about it. He likes his dad, Merry. He likes them both and he digs havin’ a brother and sister. Maybe he actually wants more time with them too and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by tellin’ me that.”

He finally spoke, and when he did, it came gentle.

“Consider this, sweetheart. Maybe, this bitch has claws, and she’s got more time to sink them into Ethan, that’s not a good idea.”

This was a concern.

But it was my concern, not Merry’s.

“I still think that’s my first step, talking to Ethan.”

“I hear you. And maybe you’re right. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do what you can to know what you’re sendin’ him into and if that’s healthy or if it’s not. Bottom line, your ex is a junkie. He’s recovering, but that’s still gotta give you pause. I know from the way you reacted that woman freaks you out, and she does that for a reason. Just find out what you’re dealin’ with before you make a deal with them that involves your boy.”

“Okay, then, maybe I’ll talk to Tanner about doing some legwork.”

“Tanner’s expensive.”

This was true.

This was also my concern, not Merry’s.

“Merry—”

“I’m on this.”

“I don’t want you to be on this.”

“You didn’t want me to put your storm windows in either, but they’re in. I’ll also point out that you spent your mornin’ lookin’ into the program your kid’s stepmom is neck-deep in, not puttin’ those windows in. I get you know how to go it alone, Cher. In this, you’re just not going to.”

“That’s my call.”

“Sorry you think that way, brown eyes, but the call’s been made and it’s not yours at all.”

Shit, I was getting pissed.

“This is why we need to talk face-to-face, so I can explain to you I don’t want you in my shit.”

“You already did that face-to-face, and right now you’re doin’ it over the phone. But, babe, it needs to sink in we don’t agree. I’m in. With your work schedule, mine, and the fact you need to spend time with your kid, we get face-to-face time, we’ll be face-to-face with you on your back and me movin’ inside you.”