“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.”

“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 fucked 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 fuckin’ 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 fuck 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.

I made drinks, notes on tabs, pocketing tips on those who paid outright and didn’t open a tab.

Done with that, I glanced down at Colt and Sully. Feb was standing with them but twisted, her eyes on me.

She smiled a soft smile.

She’d noted Merry hadn’t come in too.

I returned a cocky grin.

She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t act on that.

At that moment, Ruthie bellied up to the bar with an order.

I moved her way.

* * * * *

Early Tuesday Morning

It was four o’clock in the morning. Mom was snoring on the couch. Ethan was sleeping in his bed. I was in my bed, the room dark, my phone illuminated.

I fucked us up, I typed into Merry’s text string.

I deleted it.

I fucked us up, I typed again, my eyes beginning to burn.

I deleted it again.

I miss you¸ I didn’t tell him, typing it with no intention of sending it.

I backspaced through it.

I fucked us up, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry.

I didn’t hit send, but I also didn’t erase it.

Like it could just exist and he’d somehow get it without me giving it to him, I left it there, closed down my phone, tossed it on the nightstand, turned to my side, closed my blazing eyes, and did not sleep.