Page 13

chapter thirteen

Waking up beside Miles is probably the best feeling in the world. With the sun still rising in the sky, a silver beam is shining right at him, lighting his face for me. In the half-light, with an innocent smile on his face, Miles looks more at peace than I’ve ever seen him. I bend down and kiss his cheek before slipping out of bed. Mal knows I’m here, because she waved at me as I climbed onto the roof over the garage during last night’s break in. Still, Texas has stand-your-ground laws, and she’s hated me since the day we met, so risking a pre-dawn meeting of the minds probably isn’t smart on my part, but I’m trying to wake up and am in desperate need of caffeine. Fucking sue me.

Unfortunately, when I make it downstairs wearing Mal’s fluffy pink bathrobe I stole from the bathroom in Miles’ room, she’s sitting at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of black coffee. She points at the pot by the sink. “It’s fresh.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as I pour myself a cup. I take a tentative sip, letting the taste settle on my tastebuds.

“We need to discuss the elephant in the room,” she says, breaking the silence.

I glance up at her, then at her tragic hair flowing well past her ass. “I was wondering when we were going to address your godforsaken hair.”

She rolls her eyes, exasperation evident. “Don’t play games with me, Darren. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You and Miles.” Mal sighs, rubbing her temples. “Look, I don’t care what you do in your personal life, but you need to understand the position you’re putting him in. You need to think about everything he stands to lose.”

“If you’re trying to talk me out of loving him, you can save your breath. He’s mine now. You can’t have him back.” I eye the gun rack on the wall. “If you try to shoot me, I’ll tell Miles.”

“Blessed be this fruit,” she groans. “I don’t want him back. Why does everyone keep assuming I’m going to fly off the handle and start attacking. Over Miles Brooks?”

“This isn’t The Handmaid’s Tale , and I’m pretty sure you just used fruit as a derogatory slur. That’s not nice, Mal. I’ll tell Miles about that too. Don’t think I won’t.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Thinking you’re finally in control. Thinking you’ve won this stupid little battle we’ve been fighting for decades.”

“Correct,” I agree. “I think I might be reveling in it, honestly. I like fucking with you. It makes me happy.”

She snorts a laugh. “I kind of like messing with you too.” She reaches down, grabbing something on the other side of the island. She lifts a small suitcase, placing it on the island. “It’s a great form of stress relief.” She tips the suitcase over, spilling every pair of underwear I own onto the countertop. Well, the ones that were in my drawer at home, at least. How the hell did she even get them?

“What the hell? Why do you even have those?”

“Before you broke in last night, Miles asked me to go get some of your things so you could stay over. I had to sneak into your window like a common criminal.” Leaning forward, she pokes me roughly in the chest. “I could have been arrested because of your underwear, Darren Matthews.” She stares down at my boring undies and scoffs. “Would it kill you to own a single pair that are actually cute?” She lifts a pair of loose-fitting, ugly, basic boxer-briefs, and I realize the crotch has been cut. I glance down at the countertop and sigh. She’s cut a large strip out of each pair. It would sting more if I actually cared about the underwear she found.

“Those are my decoys. I keep my good ones in an old dresser in the corner of your attic. If Mom saw them, she’d show them to Dad, and then they’d kick me out. I guess it doesn’t matter now that I’m moving in here.” I smile widely, proud to have the upper hand again.

She reaches down and pulls out another suitcase. “If you think I don’t know what goes on in my house when I’m not around, you clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with.” She opens the suitcase and lifts it, emptying out the revealing underwear I brought home from college. The ones with little pink flamingos and pride flags stretched across the fabric. Slutty jockstraps and whorish briefs that leave nothing to the imagination.

“You realize this means war, don’t you? I won’t stop until I’ve torn you asunder, Mallory.” I slap the countertop with my palm to drive the point home. “Asunder!”

She smirks. “Oh, sweetheart. The battle’s already been won.”

“What battle?” Miles grumbles as he sleepily shuffles into the kitchen.

“We’re gonna destroy each other,” I say proudly. I stand and rush to the coffee pot, pouring a fresh cup for Father Daddy. He likes a little milk in his, and two of the blue packet sweeteners. Once I’ve got it made just the way he likes, I hand it to him and kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Daddy. I’m going to destroy your wife.” I turn and look at Mal, and she must think I mean something untoward, because she looks absolutely scandalized. “Not sexually,” I quickly reiterate. “Because of the gay.”

He raises an eyebrow as he pauses at the island. “Mal?” he asks, not looking away from me. “Can you translate? I’m half-asleep and he’s got that feral look in his eyes this morning.”

“Feral for you,” I say, lifting my hand and waving, my body jittery with nerves. Why can’t I believe this is real? I feel like I’m constantly waiting for the bottom to drop out, but it’s such a silly thought, because I know if I were to fall, Miles would catch me. He’ll always catch me.

Miles blushes and leans down, kissing my forehead. “Are you being a good boy?”

Before I can get a word out, Mal beats me to the punch. “He’s threatening to tattle on me if I shoot him.”

“Huh?” His eyebrows scrunch together in the center of his forehead. “If you do what now?”

“If she shoots me,” I confirm. “Don’t worry, though. She’s not gonna. She slashed up all my underwear instead.” I turn and force a glare at her. “I’m going to get you back. When you least expect it, expect it.”

She gives me a dismissive flick of her wrist. “So, idiotic war aside, we need to discuss the game plan.”

“What do you mean?” Miles asks, sipping his coffee. With the cup to his lips, our eyes meet, and he throws me a wink, the corners of his mouth curling up around the cup.

“For the future, obviously. We need to think of a way to break the news to the church. Personally, I think I’d like to go down in a blaze of glory.”

Miles’ eyes widen as he looks over at me, quickly shaking his head, mouthing, “Don’t you dare have her killed, Dare.” I guess he remembers our little discussion about my real job. Good. I don’t want to relive that conversation. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t made more of a big deal out of it than it is.

“No promises,” I mouth.

“It all comes down to how you choose to handle the divorce,” she says, then takes a sip of coffee. “If you want to come out of the closet, that limits our chances of keeping our positions in the church, but honestly, they wouldn’t be much of a loss. The Beauchamps left last week, so we’re down to less than twenty members.” She sighs, setting her cup down. “This isn’t the life I wanted. I was supposed to be a pastor’s wife. My name was supposed to pack a punch. If there’s no way for us to save face, I think I’d like to make a spectacle.” Her words don’t sound like a threat. If anything, they seem conspiratory in nature. I kind of want to see what she has in mind. “Infamy and fame are two sides of the same coin.”

“Continue,” I say, leaning in and listening closely.

“What do you boys think about a two-man Pride parade?”