Praise (Salacious Players Club #1)(92)

As I leave Charlotte standing outside, I turn toward my son. I can’t exactly read his expression. I expected anger and resentment, but it’s more complicated than that. He’s pensive and guarded but also unsure.

“Come on, Beau,” I call, and he follows as I lead him around to the front yard where my car is parked. I distantly remember the first time I came to Charlotte’s house, picking her up for the opening night of the club, how sure I felt at that time that I wouldn’t let things between us get out of hand. How fucking stupid I was to think that was even possible.

There’s no sign of Charlotte’s dad, thank fuck. Although, I guess if I want to be part of her life for the long haul, I’m going to have to find a way to deal with him. As bad as he is for her, it’s not fair for her to live the rest of her life without a dad because he’s so fucking bad at it.

Looking at Beau, I can’t imagine how her father could walk away from them so easily. How delusional does a man have to be to live a life without his own kids? And yet…here I am about to tell mine that I don’t plan on avoiding her just because he doesn’t like it.

It’s silent between us for a moment as I prepare how I’m going to say this to him. A better man might apologize first, but I can’t bring myself to apologize for loving Charlotte. I’m not sorry about it.

When he looks up at me, I can tell he wants to say something, so I brace myself for it. “You know…she tried to warn me. I knew her dad was a jerk, and I didn’t listen. When I heard him say that about you…I just snapped.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. But there will always be people who react that way. Who see things one way and refuse to open their minds to anything else. I’d rather be someone people deem as depraved or sinful than being narrow-minded and hateful.”

He nods, his eyes intense on my face. “You really do love her? It’s not just…”

“Yes,” I answer, interrupting him. “I really do love her. And I never meant for it to happen this way. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

Then, I brace myself for the hard part. “And you understand that I’m not going to stop seeing her? I should have told you before, and I never should have acted like it was nothing, but I was really afraid of losing you again.”

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 me being 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.”