He’d held back in the past, thinking he was protecting Rocky, doing what she told him she needed, looking after his sister, his family.

Tanner was family. Garrett and his father’s silence about the demons that plagued the Merrick clan after Cecilia had been tortured and shot to death had nearly torn their family apart (again).

Shit had gone extreme.

Now he no longer made that same mistake.

So, right then, Garrett didn’t hesitate in giving it to Tanner.

“Difference between you and Rocky and me and Mia is you got a shot at gettin’ your woman back, you took it, and you stood by her when the bad hit. I have that same bad shit. A different way, but I got it. Mia knew it and didn’t give that back.”

“Fuck. Never thought to turn that table, but Cher’s right.”

She was.

For years, Garrett never turned that table either.

Mia was it. The one. Tormenting his mind. Owning his heart.

He’d been happy with her. She’d been happy with him. It had been good. Beyond good.

They’d had it all.

Then he’d ended it, and he didn’t even know why he did it until Rocky came apart that day—Rocky, having done the same thing to Tanner years before, deep down into her bones terrified that happy would vaporize like it had the night Cecilia stood strong to protect her daughter, her husband’s work, then lost her life doing both.

He also never would have guessed that the day he lost Mia for good was the day he’d see things for what they were.

Tanner and Rocky had it. Colt and Feb. Cal and Vi. Dusty and Mike.

Garrett might have it, he didn’t know.

What he did know, now that Cher had pointed it out, was that Mia didn’t.

Getting that knowledge from Cher, it was like he’d been yoked, that yoke heavy but also invisible. He didn’t even know it’d hung around his neck, dragging him down.

And then it was just gone.

And now he was free.

“Good to know you’re doin’ okay,” Tanner said.

“Yeah,” Garrett muttered.

“Now, brother, CeeCee’s down, so Roc and me got about five seconds of alone time and, no offense, I wanna spend that time with my wife.”

Garrett grinned into the night again and replied, “Then I’ll let you go. Later, Tanner.”

“Later, Garrett.”

They disconnected and Garrett stared into the parking lot, wondering what it would feel like to have an actual yard as he finished his smoke.

He turned and bent low to the crappy-ass, cheap, white plastic table that sat between two crappy-ass, cheap, white plastic chairs in order to stub out his cigarette.

He did this thinking back to if he’d ever smoked in front of Ethan.

Friday night, Cher had come out with him twice as they were getting hammered so he could have a smoke, standing in front of him on her high-heeled shoes, shifting from foot to foot in the cold, while he told her to get her ass back inside and she gave him all kinds of shit for smoking.