Tanner's Forever

Tanner's Forever Samson Boys: Book 2 Stephanie Renee Copyright © 2023 by Stephanie Renee All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Chapter One 2. Chapter Two 3. Chapter Three 4. Chapter Four 5. Chapter Five 6. Chapter Six 7. Chapter Seven 8. Chapter Eight 9. Chapter Nine 10. Chapter Ten 11. Chapter Eleven 12. Chapter Twelve 13. Chapter Thirteen 14. Chapter Fourteen 15. Chapter Fifteen 16. Chapter Sixteen 17. Chapter Seventeen 18. Chapter Eighteen 19. Chapter Nineteen 20. Chapter Twenty 21. Chapter Twenty-one 22. Chapter Twenty-two 23. Chapter Twenty-three 24. Chapter Twenty-four 25. Chapter Twenty-five 26. Chapter Twenty-six 27. Chapter Twenty-seven 28. Chapter Twenty-eight 29. Chapter Twenty-nine 30. Chapter Thirty 31. Chapter Thirty-one 32. Chapter Thirty-two 33. Chapter Thirty-three 34. Chapter Thirty-four 35. Want a sexy epilogue for Tanner and Erin? 36. What's next? Also By Stephanie Renee Chapter One Erin “When’s Dad supposed to be here?” Alex, my eight-year-old asks. I glance at my watch. “Twenty minutes, so you need to make sure your bag is packed. You know how much your daddy hates it when you forget something, and he has to come back.” “Already done. And I’m sure I didn’t forget anything!” He exclaims before running out of the room. “Check anyway!” I call after him. I applaud his confidence, but I make a mental note to check his bag before he leaves. Last time one of the kids forgot something, my ex-husband, Judd, somehow found a way to blame me. He somehow finds a way to blame everything on me. He loves to remind me that I won’t be winning any Mother of the Year awards anytime soon. That’s alright. He can keep his awards and kind words. I got the kids, and that’s all that matters to me. For their sake, I will put up with any and all of the not-so-subtle digs that Judd throws at me. As I fold another towel, our three-year-old, Joey, comes running into the room. “Momma!” “Yes, darlin’?” “Whatcha doin’?” “Folding laundry,” I reply, trying to hide my sarcasm at stating the obvious. “Are you excited about going to your daddy’s?” He smiles and nods. “He said we’re going to race go karts!” Of course he did. Every time Judd has the kids, he makes sure to take them out to do something fun that I likely can’t afford. It’s his way of trying to fight his way into the role of favorite parent. At times, it breaks my heart that I can’t always be the “fun” one, but I don’t bring any of this up to my kids. I’ve always vowed not to talk crap about their dad in front of them. It’s not fair to put them in the middle. So, just like usual, I paint on my best fake smile and say, “That sounds fun! Do you think you’re going to win?” His grin is so big that he looks like he might bust. “Yeah!” That smile quickly fades, though, as his face falls. “Momma, what are you going to do while we’re gone?” The way he worries about me melts my heart. Out of my three boys, Joey is my wild child. If he had been my first-born, I don’t know that I would have had the energy to have more. But he has the biggest heart when it comes to those he loves. My little Sour Patch Kid. “Don’t you worry about me, darlin’,” I tell him. “I’ll keep busy. “But you’ll be alone.” Way to remind me of that. We go through this every time he goes to his dad’s. Every other weekend, I have to explain to him that I don’t mind some alone time and that I’ll be just fine. Truth be told, I’m a mother of three boys; I relish a bit of alone time. But tonight, I actually won’t be alone. “Sweetie, tonight, I’m hanging out with Aunt Nancy and Aunt Gina.” Gina and Nancy are my best friends, and they’re the best “aunts” my kids could ask for. “What are you going to do?” He asks. Not wanting to tell my three-year-old that my friends are taking me out to get rip-roaring drunk and sing karaoke, I try to think of something a bit tamer to tell him. Right at the moment I open my mouth, my thirteen-year-old, Chris, yells from downstairs, “Dad’s on his way!” “Joey, you better go put your bags by the door,” I tell him as he sprints out of the room. I take a break from laundry and head downstairs to make sure they are all ready to go. The less time I have to spend with Judd, the better. Chris sits by the door, playing on one of his handheld video games. “Is your stuff all packed?” I ask. All I get is a nod. I’m not sure how much of his attitude is just being an obnoxious teenager and how much of it is him still mad about the divorce. It’s been a year since our split was finalized, but we were separated for a while before that. I think Chris has always partially blamed me for not trying harder. Maybe I should defend myself and tell him that it was his dad who ultimately walked out on me. But what good would that do? Chris lived with two married parents for over ten years, and then, his whole life got turned upside-down. Why make that worse? And putting him between his father and myself is never fair. One day, he will see the truth on his own. Hopefully. I grab the small pile of laundry that has somehow accumulated by the front door and carry it to the living room. Before I get too far, I hear Chris call my name. Well, he mumbles my name. “Yes?” I look back at him. “Can I take this