Page 166 of Naughty Dreams
She captured his wrist before he could stick his fingers in his ears. “‘I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love me.’ Formidable bodyguard or world-famous rockstar, in your hearts, you're two boys who need someone to see and love you for who you are. I know it’s tearing you up inside, being with me when he needs you.”
“I want to be with you. And he doesn’t need me. He has Moss, Milton, and a slew of other people whose only job is to be there for him.”
“You’re deflecting. When we’ve gone through bad things, we need the person we’re in love with close. Especially when you went through it together.”
Her softer tone held her feelings about how close she’d come to losing another son. He didn’t volunteer the parts of his job that would give her trouble sleeping at night. But he’d told her he’d always be honest with her, and she’d demanded more details this time.
Her shoulders squared, and she gripped his hand. “Just because he’s moving on with his life doesn’t mean he’s not still grieving and dealing with trauma. DJ has had too much loss in his life.”
Roy stared back at the yard. He’d thought a lot about that conversation by the pool, and what kept twisting his gut was how he hadn’t let himself offer comfort the way he’d wanted to do. He hadn’t really dug to find out how things were going for DJ. He’d told himself he didn’t have that right anymore. He couldn’t send mixed signals.
DJ was right. He’d protected himself. But Roy also wasn’t wrong.
His mother might not have physical sight, but her insight was twenty-twenty clear. “You’re hurting too, son. You almost lost him. With any client, that would be enough to have you worked up, but you also love him. There are so many feelings that go along with that, and your job is all about channeling or locking down feelings.”
She laid her head on his hand, gripping the back of the swing. “There’s another way to look at this. Yes, the job’s done. Which means you can let those feelings loose to take you where you really want to go with them.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to settle down.”
She laughed. “Royal Bloodwell, you will never settle down. Neither will DJ James. But it’ll mean so much more to both of you to have a partner to share that ride.” She fingered the wedding ring strung around her neck. “Even better to have a soulmate.”
He touched her fingers, brushing the rings that had belonged to his father and brother. “I need to give him time. Give us both time. I do want to be there for him, it’s hard as hell not to be, but I want…if I’m going to be there for him, I want to always be there for him.”
As he turned a resolute expression to her, Roy knew he was at last putting words to what was in his troubled head. “That’s what I’ll demand. I won’t do that until I’m sure he knows what he wants.”
“Until you’re sure you think he knows what he wants,” she corrected.
“He thinks I don’t trust him, and maybe I don’t. Maybe I think I’m older, wiser and smarter. Maybe that’s bull. But if I give us both time, I’ll be listening to my gut. And I try to do that.”
“I know. You always have a plan, Royal. You don’t move forward until you do. But once you figure it out, go get him. I want to see him again.”
He snorted. “He’s right. You do like him more than me.”
She batted her lashes. “Of course. He’s DJ James. He’s irresistible. To the world and to me.”
She touched Roy’s face. “But most especially to my boy.”
Only a day earlier, DJ received the same lecture from Marjorie.
Roy had kept his cool, so much so that the confidence DJ had felt in the moment had taken a hit when Roy didn’t chase him back into the studio, and insist they have it out.
Maybe Roy was right. DJ was dealing with the loss of his bandmates, the crazy shit with Paul. Half the time he was waking up in a cold sweat; the other half he woke up with music in his heart. He’d get halfway to the bedrooms that his bandmates had used, to rouse them for a studio session, before realizing they weren’t there.
Sometimes he slid down the wall and had to stay there, shaking too hard to walk. Though it embarrassed the crap out of him, Marjorie, with her maternal spidey sense, had found him twice and helped him get back to bed.
He missed his Master. He needed Roy.
Or did he just needsomeoneto be there? Maybe they should wait six months and see if it still felt as strong. What was six months, after all?
“What kind of life can someone like Roy have with me?”
He asked Marjorie that on the last day of her visit. She’d wanted to stay longer, but her contact at DHHS had called. The sheriff had pulled a six-year-old girl out of an unsafe home, andthey needed a place for her for a few days. DJ insisted Marjorie return home to do what she did so well.
“He's like Superman, steady and solid and strong and decent.” DJ looked at the bracelet on his wrist, the bull, and those beads. Paul was long gone, but DJ was still wearing it like a protective talisman.
Or a sign of ownership.
“I'm always in my head and on the road,” he finished.
