Hold On

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