Page 108 of Mr. Naughty List
RJ chuckled. “Hell yeah, you can, Mr. Danvers.”
Aaron gazed at him, studying him closely. “Seriously, you’d want me to go along? I wouldn’t be intruding?”
“No. I mean, yes, and no you wouldn’t be intruding.”
“This is impulsive.”
RJ grinned and nuzzled Aaron’s nose. “Yup. It is.”
Aaron’s face flushed, but this time with fervor instead of grief. “Yeah. It really is. It’s crazy.” But he didn’t sound like he was backing away from the idea. He sounded thrilled by the wildness. “And what about…” Suddenly he deflated and looked away. “But will you still want me if I quit teaching? You know, if I’m not Mr. Danvers anymore?”
RJ tenderly took hold of Aaron’s chin. “You’ll always be my Mr. Danvers. You don’t have to teach a class of pubescent balls of hormones to be that. But would you be happy? You’re a great teacher. The best. Carter loves you, and the other kids must as well. Would you want to stop teaching?”
“Right now? I want to burn it all down and start over.” He shuddered. “I just want to breathe.” Aaron frowned, the dimples that had almost made a new appearance vanishing entirely again. “Do you know why I became a teacher? Because my mom wanted me to, and I knew I’d be good at it.”
“That’s fair.”
“Yes. I suppose. I don’t hate it, but I don’t feel about teaching the way you do about music. I’ve seen you in Chip’s studio. The way your eyes light up, the way you come alive with the music. On the stage too. You radiate. I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you up there.” He paused before going on, “I still do. Every time.”
“I know what that’s like,” RJ growled in his ear. “That ass of yours. Shaking. While you wrote on that damn smart board.”
Aaron’s dimples blinked on. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t think it’s smart, or prudent, or well-considered, or any other mature thing. But I think it’s what I want to do. If you want it too. And if you don’t? I can travel on my own. I’ll hike through France, and kayak the Amazon—”
“Oh, don’t do that. That seems a little extreme.” RJ laughed. “Besides, I want you with me. But what about Constance? She can’t travel with us.”
Aaron frowned again. “I don’t know. Impulsivity has its complications.”
“You don’t have to decide now.” RJ kissed Aaron’s nose. “We have some time.”
A small knock came at the door. RJ stood up to answer it, glancing over his shoulder to see Aaron wiping at his red cheeks and trying to compose himself. Opening the door, RJ found his mom with a plate of cookies and two mugs of cocoa on a tray, and big, worried eyes. “I thought these might help?”
His heart was so full of love for her that he almost cried too. Maybe things hadn’t been ideal between them for some time. But she’d never been the kind of mom Aaron had grown up with. RJ, even at his most neglected, had known she loved him.
RJ took them from her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Tell him he’s welcome to stay. As long as he needs. We have another guest room we can make up for him. He’d need to sleep there, though. For Carter’s sake. You know I don’t care.”
“I know, but I think I’ll go home with him in a bit.” There it was again. Thinking of Aaron’s apartment as “home.” “After dinner, maybe. If that’s okay?”
“The kids will make a fuss.”
“I know, but he needs me.”
She tugged him down close. “And you love him?”
“Yes.”
She looked over RJ’s shoulder to where Aaron was still wiping at his eyes on the bed. She whispered, “He needs that.”
“He does. And, Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For always loving me. I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole.”
She shrugged but her eyes filled with tears. “You had good reasons to be resentful. I could have done a better job. I should have.” She cleared her throat and waved it off. “But—look, Aaron needs you now. I should shower and put on actual clothes.” She motioned toward her snowman pajamas. “We’ll talk more later. Doug wants to speak with you at some point today too? Before you leave, if that’s okay.”
RJ’s stomach went sour at the thought, but he supposed it wasn’t too much to ask. He should completely clear the air with the man. Figure out what was holding him back from trusting Doug. Or, well, loving him, his mother would say.