“Merry—”

“You like your head jammed right up your ass, Cheryl, have at it.”

Pain stabbed through my midsection.

He’d never called me Cheryl. To my recollection, not even back in the day when I still was Cheryl.

“Not that this’ll get through, but worth it to me to say it, so I’m gonna do that,” he stated. “No way in fuck would I involve myself in your kid’s life in the way I did this mornin’ unless I was goddamned, fuckin’ sure that I intended to be a part of his life and his mom’s life in a way that was healthy for all of us. May have jumped the gun with that, but there was a way to communicate that to me, and the way you did it was not that way.”

Yeah.

I’d taken it too far.

Fuckin’ sure that I intended to be a part of his life and his mom’s life in a way that was healthy for all of us.

Shit.

I’d taken it way too far.

I took a step toward him, but a nuance of change shifted over his frame and I stopped.

“Merry,” I whispered.

“You like it behind those walls in your fortress, Cheryl? Stay. I reckon it’s cold as fuck in there, but I also reckon that don’t matter to you. You’re used to it. Enjoy it in there, spinnin’ your wheels.”

With that as his parting shot, he turned to the storm door, opened it, and strode right through.

It whispered shut on its hinge, banging at the last when I didn’t catch it, but I did move to it.

And I stood in it, staring out as Merry got in his truck with my son.

Ethan looked to me and gave me a short wave.

Merry didn’t look to me.

He just drove away.

* * * * *

I sat with my cell in my hand at my kitchen table.

I had a mug of coffee on the table in front of me.

Coffee Merry had made me. Coffee he’d made me, wanting me to sleep in on my day off and then get to take it easy.

My mind was at war.

All the ugly things I’d said to Merry that morning that he didn’t deserve tormented me. I should have calmly explained how I felt about mornings with my kid. It should have leaked in that I was talking to Merry and he would cut off his own arm rather than give any impression to my son that I was less than Ethan thought me to be.

This and a lot of other things that had happened and had been said the last five days, not to mention the strong urging of my heart, made me want to engage my texts and send him the two short words that would tell him what I was feeling and give him what he deserved.

I’m sorry.

Another part of me—the dark, ugly part that kept me locked inside the cold, airless shell I’d created—thought this was good. It was over. It might all be over, everything Merry and I had, including our friendship, but that was okay.