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He swallows and stares at his feet, and it strikes me for the first time that my son really is a man now. He’s not a kid anymore, not the same gangly teenager I remember or the little kid who looked up at me like I hung the moon in the sky. Beau is as much a man as I am, and it’s about time I stop treating him like a kid.
“I still think it’s fucking weird,” he grumbles, and I have to look away to keep from laughing. “And I don’t know if I can really see you guys together, at least not for a while. But…she seems happy with you—a hell of a lot happier than she was with me.”
I’m trying not to get too excited or relieved because this is a small step, but it’s also major, and it’s more than enough. He’s not screaming at me or calling me names or threatening to never speak to me again.
So I stay quiet as he continues.
“I don’t really like it…I’m not gonna lie and say I do.”
“That’s okay,” I reply quickly.
“But…thanks for sticking up for her.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks for sticking up for me,” I reply with a half-smile.
Awkward silence permeates the space between us. And it feels like hours before he finally looks up and gives me the eye contact I wanted. The fact that he’s not walking away or telling me to fuck off is enough to let me know we’ll be okay.
“Still want to go get that drink?” I ask, nodding toward the car.
He squeezes his lips together and nods. “Hell yeah.”
I’m ready to climb into my car and leave. What I’m not ready for is my son taking the three steps to close the distance between us and pull me into an abrupt hug. I wish I could memorize it, and fuck, I try. It’s been so long since he really wrapped his arms around me that I wish time would stop for a moment and let me savor this.
All too soon, he’s pulling away. “All right, let’s go.” Then he climbs into the passenger seat, leaving me stunned.
Beau has a long way to go, and we may never see eye to eye on the club or my relationship with Charlotte, but he’s still my son and I’m not going to let him walk away that easily.
RULE #38: SOMETIMES, THERE ARE NO WORDS NEEDED.
Charlie
When I walk inside, my sister and mom are sitting on the couch. There are red blotches around Sophie’s nose and cheeks, a telltale sign that she’s been crying.
“Oh, Soph, I’m sorry,” I say, dropping onto the sofa next to her. It’s only 1:00 p.m. and already today has been exhausting. There’s still so much to process. Some creep told my dad about me at the club. My mom and dad both know about Emerson and the club and mebeing auctioned off—insert mortification.And the crème de la crème of the day had to be Emerson Grant proclaiming his love for me in front of everyone. Kind of hard to care about the other stuff when that plays over and over in my mind.
“It’s okay,” my sister mumbles as she rests her head against my shoulder. “I hope you’re not mad that I called Emerson.”
I lift my head and stare at her in surprise. “Mad? No, of course not. You did the right thing.”
“Did you see him slam Dad against the wall?” she asks, hiding her smile as she pinches her lips between her fingers.
Mom and I both laugh. “That was pretty cool,” Mom says.
“I’m sorry for not telling you…” I add, mostly to Mom, since Sophie sort of figured it out on her own. And I guess this might be a conversation more suitable in private, but I like the idea that we don’t keep secrets from each other. At least not anymore.
My mom rubs my knee as she says, “It’s okay, honey. It’s not like I couldn’t tell how old he was. I had my suspicions, but I trust you, Charlie. You’re a strong, smart girl, and I know you can take care of yourself.”
The emotion in my throat stings as I force myself to swallow andnot cry. “Thanks, Mom.”
Then, she ruffles my sister’s hair. “And neither of you have to see him or face him until you’re ready. I’m sorry he scared you.”
“It’s okay,” Sophie mumbles.
“Is anyone else in the mood for PJs and movies? I think we need a lazy Saturday.”
“You’re the only one still in PJs,” Sophie says with a laugh.
