Page 110 of Mr. Naughty List
When it was time to say goodbye to the Ward family, Aaron was grateful when RJ announced he was coming back to the apartment with him. If he’d had to leave on his own and go home alone, he knew the weight of all that had happened with his mom would have crushed him. At least RJ would distract and comfort him.
RJ would make sure that he felt it was still Christmas.
On the ride home, as RJ drove Aaron’s car, citing Aaron’s three glasses of wine over dinner as reason for commandeering the vehicle, Aaron’s phone dinged. He glanced down, for a heart-stopping moment hoping it was his mother, before remembering he’d blocked her calls.
Hope it went well with Helen. I love you. Merry Christmas.
“Lauren,” he offered when RJ tilted his head curiously. “She hopes it went well with my mother.”
Aaron started to laugh. Shocked, hysterical, almost sobbing laughter, until it shifted once more to tears and he was sobbing. Actual hard, heaving sobs that sounded like his heart was breaking, and he couldn’t make them stop.
RJ made soothing sounds from the driver’s side, but they were on the interstate now. There was no safe place to pull over, so Aaron knew comforting noises was the best RJ could do.
All of it—even the old stuff like the divorce and the constant displeasure he’d faced growing up, plus the new stuff like the hiding, the hurting, the hating himself—welled up and out of him like a forced purging, and when he finally stopped, they’d been parked in the lot behind his apartment for God only knew how long. The lights were on in the church, and the Christmas trees from all the downtown buildings and lofts sparkled in the darkness.
“Here,” RJ said, stuffing a handful of napkins into Aaron’s hand. “Found them in your glove box.”
Aaron nodded and rubbed the scratchy paper over his nose and eyes. It was overly warm in the car between his feverish crying and the heater, so he rolled down the window. The night was quiet, aside from the usual bursts of noise from the city and the hymns from within the church. The organ and the muffled but sonorous sounds of voices lifting and falling in welcome of a new baby.
A new start.
“Okay,” Aaron said at last, the cold night air rushing over him and stirring between them in the car. “That’s enough of that.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“I know.”
They shared a smile, and Aaron wiped at his eyes with the papers again. “I don’t think I’ve ever cried like that in my life. Not that I remember. I guess I needed it.”
RJ smiled sadly. “I’m sorry about your mom, Aaron.”
“Birth is hard,” Aaron said. “Even if you’re just birthing yourself.”
“Ah, there’s my English Comp teacher. Similes abound.”
“Metaphor, actually.”
“My bad.”
Aaron smiled and the sound of the chorus within the old church rose with the entire congregation joining in. “I know you said that you wanted me to go with you on the next tour, whenever that is, but you don’t have to stick to that, RJ. If it turns out that we don’t work, or that you don’t—”
“Mr. Danvers,” RJ said, his dominant voice breaking over Aaron’s hot skin like a rush of cold wind. “Stop. No doubts. No second-guessing. Just give in to this. Let it happen. You can’t struggle your way out of the pain you’re feeling or the confusing months ahead. You have to just give in and go with it. See how it turns out. We’ll deal with everything as it happens. Stop trying to control it.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Do you need me to smack your ass to remind you that you’re not the one in control here?”
“Right. You are.”
“Nope. Not even me.” RJ smiled. “Though it’s a fun game in the bedroom, and I’m honored that you trust—love—me enough to let me do whatever I want to your body.” He flushed. “What we both want. But even I’m not actually incontrol, Aaron. I have no idea what tour I might get signed on to. I don’t even know if it will be country music, or rock, or jazz, or what. I just go. Where they say.Whenthey say. I surrender and roll with the punches, and sometimes it sucks, and it’s tiring and hard, and sometimes it’s glorious and fun. And there are those Montmartre sunsets to offset the hardship.” He shrugged. “And other times, there are lovers overdosed on bathroom floors.”
Aaron winced, reaching for RJ’s hand.
“No one is in control. Not you. Not me. Not Santa Claus.” He nodded toward the church. “Despite being a Christian, I’m not even willing to say that Baby Jesus has his hands on the reins. What I do know is you have to learn to ride the horse without fighting the gallop. Loose body, loose knees, take those jumps and roll with the beast. Sure, sometimes the horse just walks along the stream and you get a break, right? That’s nice when that happens. But that’s not life. That’s a metaphor. Look at me, Mr. Danvers. I learned that from you.”
Aaron stared at him, the light from the city Christmas lights spackling the car window behind him. “RJ, I don’t know if I can live that way, but I want to try. I’ve always been, like you said, prissy. I’ve always had things ‘just so,’ but I want to see what happens if I let go.”
“I know you can handle it, Mr. Danvers,” RJ said roughly. “Have you ever seen yourself take a spanking? Because if you had, you’d know you can handle anything that comes to you.”