“I’ll talk to him,” I say, but I sense his hesitation. His eyes keep glancing upstairs and he’s not moving to the door the way he should.
“I hate it when he’s mad at me.” It’s a fairly vulnerable thing for Emerson to say to me and I’m a little surprised by it.
“He’s not mad at you. Beau has big feelings, and if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that I’d rather feel his anger than nothing at all. Anger is better than indifference.”
“And he listens to you?” he asks carefully. We’re bordering on inappropriate. But I guess if he wants to know, then I’m willing to share.
“Yes, he does, and he knows what he needs.” And that’s all I say. It’s enough to get the point across. When Beau gets so angry he can’t control his own emotions, he needs me to put him in his place, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Emerson gives me one more uncomfortable expression before finally letting out a surrendering sigh and reaching for the doorknob. I feel his pain in that moment; letting Beau go isn’t something I could imagine doing. But it’s exactly what Emerson is forced to do. Sometimes letting go is a show of love, and it’s probably the hardest one.
“Emerson,” I say, stopping him before he disappears. As he turns to me, waiting to hear what I have to say, I give him a tight smile. “The night of the attack, he called you a good man. Your son thinks you’re a good man. I just thought you should know that.”
His expression softens and I almost spot a smile as he thanks me and turns to leave. I hope Emerson never truly learns about how that attack was meant to hurt him because that doesn’t matter. The attacker will never matter to him as much as what his son said about him. So I hope that little bit of information offers him some relief.
“Take care of him,” he adds after walking out my door. I suspect it’ll be the last thing we really say about this, or at least I hope it is.
“I will,” I reply.
Once he’s gone, I walk up the stairs to find Beau lying on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling, almost as if he’s waiting for me. Without stopping, I walk up to the bed and stare at him as I reach under my knee-length skirt and slide down my simple black lace panties.
He’s watching with confusion as I climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and then shove my underwear in his mouth. To his credit, he doesn’t put up a fight, just lets me gag him as I put my face near his.
“You don’t get to talk anymore. Now, you listen. Nod if you understand.”
There’s a sense of anger laced in his expression as he furrows his brow and nods.
Then I take his jaw in my hands roughly as I stare down at him. “Salacious Players’ Club is just a fucking club. It’s the greatest fucking sex club in the country, sure, but it’s just a club. I hope you never know the fear I felt that night, but I wish for one second, you could see things from my perspective. Your life and safety come first. Not just to me and not just to your dad, but to everyone who fucking loves you, and there are a lot of people.”
Then I lean forward, putting my forehead against his. “I love you for your bravery and conviction, Beau, but if it comes down to letting those assholes win, so we don’t lose you, then I’d let them win every fucking time.”
I watch his throat move as he swallows, and the hard wrinkle in his forehead is gone.
“I’m going to take my underwear out of your mouth now, but you don’t get to speak for the rest of the day after that outburst downstairs, understand?”
With his blue eyes on me, he nods. After I pull my panties from his mouth, I toss them on the floor and kiss his soft lips with tenderness.
Then I rest my body alongside his, using his shoulder as a pillow when his arms wrap around me, holding me tight. We’re entangled in my bed when I feel the muscles in his body start to melt.