I kept moving as I tossed the packs of carrots in the middle of it, causing a bag of half-eaten microwave popcorn to shift, littering popped kernels all over my carpet. It also caused an opened bag of bite-size Snickers to fall off and spray baby candy bars everywhere.

I didn’t pause to clean up (though I did pause to snatch up a couple of Snickers for myself).

I spoke as I quickly negotiated the area in front of the TV so I didn’t obstruct their view.

“Do me a favor and eat those, so when your parents sue me for putting you in a sugar coma, my attorneys can tell them I made a valiant attempt to cut through the crap with carrots.”

Everest burst out laughing.

“You’re crazy, Mom!” Ethan cried, doing it through a little man laugh that was part boy giggle, part man chuckle, eyes never leaving the TV, controller in hand shifting.

I had a feeling their reactions meant the carrots were going to be ignored.

I’d made that bed, so I also had a feeling I had no choice but to lie in it.

I hit my bedroom, climbed on my actual bed, and sat leaning against my collection of pillows that did, actually, look like something Janis Joplin would recline on for a Rolling Stone photo shoot.

I crossed my legs under me, made quick work of my Snickers, then lifted up my phone.

I went where I needed to go.

First attempt with the carrots was a fail, I texted Merry.

I deleted it.

Then I shared, Two more day shifts then I’m back on nights. In a perfect world, I could give Mom a break and ask you to come over and hang with my kid while I work.

I deleted that too.

Ethan would dig that. But I’d dig it more knowing that you were with my boy and he liked it.

Obviously, I got rid of that too.

Mostly, though, I’d like knowing you’d be there when I got home.

Quickly, before my thumb could hit anything on the screen that would be catastrophic, I deleted that too.

I jumped when my phone sounded in my hand, a text popping up.

Not from Merry.

From Trent.

Did you get my text yesterday? We need to talk. Call me.

Not a word from Merry, but my ex-loser texted me twice.

That was my life.

Of course, it was up to me to sort out the shit pile I’d created that stood between Merry and me.

But that wouldn’t happen.

Eventually, he’d come into J&J’s and give me indication he didn’t totally hate me, though he’d probably be distant.

Over time, that would melt and he’d be cool with me again.

Finally, we’d get to joking and laughing.

Then, after a while, I’d watch him eye up some babe who did it for him. He wouldn’t make the approach in front of me, not at first. He’d wait to get back to that after he knew we were back where we needed to be.

But he’d find his way to make an approach.

And then it would be done.

And we’d be where we were supposed to be.

Meaning, I’d be right back where I belonged.

Alone and skirting the edges, on the outside looking in to all the amazing that was Merry.

* * * * *

Garrett

Saturday Night

Garrett rode his bike under the covered parking spot he paid extra for every month so his Harley would be sheltered from the elements.

It was late.

He’d been riding all day partly because the weather would soon turn and he wouldn’t be able to take out his Fat Boy again until March or April.

But mostly, he did it to find a way to clear his mind, keep focused, and not fuck things up by moving too fast with Cher.

As he rode in, he saw that he may have managed to get through another day without fucking things up with Cher, but he had another problem he thought he’d sorted, which, apparently, he had not.

He swung off the bike, but she was already out of her Rover and heading his way.

He didn’t look at her when he started across the parking lot, but he felt her.

“This isn’t happening,” he stated.

“Merry, please,” she begged. “Give me a second.”

He kept walking.

“I screwed up,” she declared.

She fucking did.

He made no reply, he just kept walking.

He felt her hurrying after him, her short legs no match for his long ones.

“I thought it was you. The way you’d ended us, I thought it had to be you,” she told him.

At the foot of the ugly concrete steps, with their unattractive iron railing that would lead him to the concrete landing that would take him to his shitty-ass condo, not a pot of flowers in sight, nothing to make that place look like anyone gave a shit, he stopped and turned to her.

“Go home, Mia.”

She stared up at him, her pretty face twisted and pleading.

“I gave you opportunity after opportunity,” she whispered.

Oh no.

They weren’t doing this before.

They sure as fuck weren’t going to do it now.

“Go home,” he repeated.

She reached out a hand, but when his eyes dropped to it, she halted its progress.

He looked back to her.

“I kept coming to you, but you never did anything,” she declared.

So he’d been wrong the other night, right the rest of the time—that had been her game.

Regardless, it was fucked up and damaging, wasting time and causing harm when the bitch should have just said something.

At that point, however, it didn’t matter. They were over, so going through this wasn’t worth his time.

“Say it one more time,” he warned. “Go home.”

“I see now,” she said quietly, eyes glued to his, imploring. “I made the first move. Kept making the first move, over and over. But maybe I should have made the second one too. Maybe you needed that from me. Maybe with…” Her eyes started drifting, but she put visible effort into forcing them back. “With the way things were with your family…” She rubbed her lips together quickly before going on. “With your mom, I should have had a mind to what was going on in yours.”

Cher’s words slammed into his head.

You got good, you don’t let it go. It lets you go, you hold on. It slips through your fingers, you pull out all the stops to get it back. You got somethin’ worth fighting for, you fight for it.

Mia was right.

It was him who had fucked them up.

But with his history, she gave that first shit about what they had, it was her who needed to make all the moves.

Now it was too late.

Before he could speak, she kept doing it.

“I’m gonna talk to Gerard. We have to…I need to be free, because you and I need to sit down and talk things out.”

Garrett felt his brows go up. “You’re gonna dump your fiancé to take a shot at me?”

Her body moved in ways that shared she was gathering the courage to say her next.

“I’m gonna do what I need to do to work with you to get us back to us.”

“Thought I made it clear, Mia—there is no us.”

Hurt moved through her features, right on its heels, chased by stubborn.

There she was.

He’d always thought that was cute.

But Mia had a pain-in-the-ass mom who was a pain in Mia’s ass because she was just like her daughter. They both had a man in their life, Mia’s dad, who spoiled those bitches rotten. They’d been vying for his attention since Mia could cogitate.

But Justin McClintock loved both the females in his life and he had a lot of love to give. Through that, he’d taught his daughter if she wanted something, it would be hers.

She clearly now had decided she was serious with wanting Garrett back and wasn’t going to fuck around with making that happen, and the way she’d been taught, she thought that would just be so.

He watched her smile, and he couldn’t believe in their situation as it stood, at the same time he could because she was Mia, that her smile was smug.

“We’re the ’burg’s last Rocky and Tanner,” she declared. “The last Colt and Feb. There never was an end to them. There’ll never be an end to us.”