Page 15

chapter fifteen

He clocked me. That sassy sodomite clocked me faster than I’ve ever been clocked. He sniffed out my sparkle like a bloodhound, then went in for the kill in front of God and everyone. Literally. Well, maybe not the killing part, but I think I may have died a death of sorts on that stage. The death of hope. The death of any level of courage I may have built up beforehand.

“I wish you’d talk to me,” Mal says, but I’m too busy securing the new window bars on the attic window. Once they’re screwed in place, I grab the drill and move through the maze of boxes cluttering this space. I need to clear all this crap out. It’s just taking up space. I never go through the boxes, because it hurts too much to remember. I kneel in front of the space he crawls through every night.

No. I can’t think of him. I can’t picture my sweet—

I place the drill against the wooden plank and drive a screw through, locking it in place. When it’s done, I place another screw right beside it. I plan on having at least ten per plank. I’m not giving him a chance to pull me back in. If I let him in, I lose everything.

Dreaming of a picture-perfect life with Darren as my partner is just that. A dream. Something I can never have, because if I have him, I lose everything. My wife. My church. The life I’ve built for twenty years.

I don’t remember messaging the young man from church on Grindr. I don’t remember snapping a selfie and sending it to him so frivolously. I’ll need to flush my pills when I’m done with the trapdoor, because I know if I take another, it will be my undoing.

Who am I if not a pastor? My home doesn’t belong to me. Not technically. It’s in the church’s name. That’s why there’s never been a mortgage. It’s why I’ve never had to worry about making ends meet. I make enough from my books to keep the electricity and water on. If I come out—if I take what Dare is offering me—I lose all that. My house, since my church has made it clear they’re ready to oust me if that’s what it comes to. My author career, since my readers are straight women who believe homosexuality is a sin worthy of death. Myself. This entire version of me. I’ve forged a life built on lies for so long, I don’t know where the real me stops and the lie begins. I did it to keep me safe. I’m doing it because it’s what I’m supposed to do. What God has called me to do. Darren—my sweet, beautiful Darren—is a distraction. A deviation from God’s path.

So why does it feel so right? Why does it have to feel so true if my truth is sin?

“Miles,” Mal says, placing her hand on my back, startling me. “Baby, what are you doing? There’s no need for all this. We’ve talked about it. We’ve made our choice.”

“The wrong choice,” I say, the lump in my throat making me sound like a croaking frog. “I was stupid. I was stupid, and I was weak, and I was small.” I sniffle, placing the drill against the next wooden slat, having to hold back a sob as I drive it in, driving yet another wedge between me and my boy. It aches. It physically aches to shut him out, but by doing so, I’m staying the course.

I’m on the straight and narrow.

I have overcome.

Once the final slat is screwed in tight, I dry my eyes with my sleeve and stand, making my way downstairs. She follows behind, sighing like I’m throwing a tantrum or something. Once she’s down from the attic ladder, I lift it closed behind her. When I lift the drill to secure it, she finally puts her foot down. Literally. She slams her foot right on top of mine to stop me in my tracks.

“Absolutely not.”

I glare at her. “I will not invite sin into this house.”

She stares down at my tie, a sassy strip of fabric with little Bibles dotting it up and down, and cocks an eyebrow. “That tie is an affront to God himself, so maybe you should start there.” Grabbing the drill from my hand, she shakes her head. “Knowing Darren, he’ll cut a hole in the roof and end up starving to death when he can’t get back out. Is that what you want? Do you want him to go missing, only to find him when his body begins to decompose above your bedroom?”

“Darren doesn’t die,” I bark. “Darren never dies. He’s a good boy! He’s going to live forever.”

“So, what’s the plan then? What, are you just going to keep doing your stupid stick figure masturbation routine until he sees the light?”

I shake my head, because as much as it pains me to admit, I can’t give Darren the spiritual guidance he needs. Who am I to lead him to the light when I’ve been drenched in darkness all my life?

“Darren’s father called me when I was on the way home. He knows a man. Pastor Collins from West Clark Apostolic. He’s going to take over his therapy sessions.” The words are bitter on my tongue. It’s the biggest betrayal I’ve ever committed, because Dare trusts me, and I’ve essentially thrown him to the wolves. Maybe he’ll thank me for it later. Maybe this mysterious Pastor Collins in all his infinite wisdom, can give Darren the one promise I’ve been unable to deliver on. Redemption. Maybe he might even have some left for me when they’re done.

Mal’s eyes narrow, and she swarms me like a hive of disgruntled hornets, poking my chest repeatedly, backing me further and further away until my back is pressed against the wall.

“No, the hell he will not,” she says, her voice thick and full of fire.

“What?”

She digs her finger deeper into my chest. “I have sat by for twenty years watching him watching you. I haven’t said a word until recently because I assumed you would come to your senses, but apparently, you’ve lost your damn mind instead.”

“Language,” I scold. “This is a God-fearing hou—”

Before I can react, Mal slams her mouth against mine. Her lips part, and to my horror, she shoves her tongue into my mouth. It twists and turns and invades every square centimeter, and all I can see is her . “This is what you want for him?” she mumbles against my lips before her tongue tears back through my mouth. She’s got a hand behind my head, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me in closer for the kiss. My jaw tightens, and a familiar tingling sensation settles in my cheeks. Saliva pools in my mouth.

I’m going to puke.

“Is that what you want, Miles?” she rasps, kissing the corner of my mouth, then up the side of my face. “You want your little protégé to shove his tongue into a woman’s mouth?” Her lips continue their journey up and down my face. “Because that’s where all this leads. Up until now, you’ve been playing pretend in your office. If you allow that man to sink his teeth into Darren, this is where he’s going to wind up. Married to a woman who has never, and will never sexually fulfill him.” She moves closer, making my stomach churn. More flashes. More of her . “Darren will have to sleep with a woman. He’s going to have to penetrate her.”

“No,” I whisper, my head spinning. I pull away and scoot across the bed, trying to get my bearings.

“That is literally the goal. Straight is great, that’s what you’re always yammering on about.”

Dare. With a woman. His pretty little cock entering—

I make a rush for the bathroom next door. Lifting the lid to the toilet, I don’t even make it to my knees before breakfast makes its reappearance. A little gets on the bathroom tiles, and I hear Mal groan in the background, but I can’t focus on her. I can’t breathe. I physically can’t inhale, because this stream feels never ending. Mal’s behind me, rubbing her hand up and down my back, but I don’t want her touching me. It makes me think of that night. The way she wouldn’t stop. The way it just kept going.

“You’re gay, Miles,” she soothes. “There isn’t prayer enough to fix that. You were born this way. You will die this way.”

Once I’ve finally stopped vomiting, I focus on catching my breath. I’m spitting and hacking into the bowl, and it feels like if I take a breath at the wrong time, I’ll start up again, and then I’ll swallow it and choke. So, I cling to the sides of the toilet bowl with both hands, not caring that it’s not the most sanitary thing in the world, and I try to focus on something to center me. To bring me back down to Earth so it no longer feels like I’m free-falling.

Dare .

After brushing my teeth, Mal wraps an arm around me for support and guides me to my bed. Once she’s got me tucked in safe and sound, she stands to leave, but I grab her wrist.

“Please?” I whisper. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Her expression softens even more than before, and after a beat, she gives me a quick nod. Stepping out of her slippers, she slides in beside me. “When Darren breaks in—”

“He won’t be able to.”

She rolls her eyes. “Darren Matthews is nothing if not resilient. It’s one of the things I admire most about him. When he breaks in, it’s going to hurt him. You know that, right? You basically broke up with him at church.”

I shake my head, because I didn’t. I don’t plan on cutting him out of my life. I just need time to think. To breathe. I want to tell her the statement is idiotic on every level, because Dare is my world. Instead, an impossible smile splits my face.

“You admire him?”

She smiles warmly at me. “He’s a pest, but he’s our pest. A temper-tantrum-prone tapeworm that refuses to go away.” She leans closer until our foreheads touch, cupping my face to comfort me. “I wouldn’t want him to go away, though. He’s family.”

My jaw trembles. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah, Miles.”

We lie here, cuddled close, talking about my sweet boy. Well, I guess he’s our sweet boy. I mean, not sexually—for Mal at least—but still.

I look at the digital clock on my nightstand. Ten minutes until eight. I know it’s early, but I can’t bear the thought of facing this evening alone without Dare. I could just call him over, but I’m not ready for that yet. I know if he comes running, I’ll relent, and throw my entire life away before I’ve had the chance to decide this is what I want. Choosing Dare means losing everything.

But it also means keeping him.

I’m startled awake an hour later. I know it’s been an hour, because I’m still facing the clock, and it says it’s just a few minutes past nine. There’s a commotion behind me, and when I roll over, Dare is straddling Mal’s stomach, tying her hand to the bedpost. She has one free, but she’s not doing anything to stop him. If anything, she looks bored by the exchange.

“Dare? What . . . how did you even—” I quickly snap my mouth shut when he shoots me the coldest, most mechanical expression I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look like my Dare-bear. He’s all power and brawn and gusts of bravado. I place my hand on his wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he growls at me. “Don’t you dare try to apologize to me. Do you know how much you hurt me tonight? Bars, Miles? You put up fucking iron bars?” I open my mouth to answer, but he shakes his head fiercely. “You better thank God that Dad had bolt cutters in the garage. I swear to God, Miles. Worst boyfriend ever.”

I whimper. Can’t help it.

Noticing my straining erection, his pupils darken, and I notice a tent rising in his jeans. Mal notices it too, and she groans when it stiffens even more.

“Ugh, what the hell? What, are you switching teams?”

Dare blinks dazedly at me. Hungrily. “Daddy.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Get your penis off me, Darren Matthews. I won’t ask again,” Mal orders. The angered tone in her voice snaps him out of it, and when he looks down, he blushes furiously and scurries away from her.

“Sorry,” he pants, wincing. “You’re like my sister and I almost touched your Polly Pocket.”

“Like a sister?” Mal asks, and there’s a twinge of surprise in her tone. Maybe even a bit of fondness in her smile.

“Polly Pocket?” I ask.

He nods. “You know, because they open up to a magical world. Just like her vagina.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mal groans. “Adorable though this little exchange may be, can we just get on with it? If you’re going to tie me up, finish tying me up.”

“Why in the world would you let him?” I ask her.

She shrugs her one free shoulder. “What can I say? I enjoy the theatrics.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Darren, what the heck is going on? Why are you binding us to the dang bed?”

“I’m not tying you up. I’m tying her up so she doesn’t call the police when I kidnap you.”

I swallow. “Kidnap me?”

He nods. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it? Keep up, please.” Once her other hand is tied, he walks to my closet. With Darren obstructed by the wall, I stand to see what he’s doing in there. As I approach, I notice his trap door is still in place.

He must hear me enter, because he turns, holding a black shirt I usually only wear when I want to look cute. It clings to me like a second skin, but I rarely get the chance to show it off, because it’s not really something a pastor ought to wear. He’s also got a pair of jeans I haven’t worn in years because they’re too tight and show everything off. I lift my hand and test the trapdoor. To my surprise, it’s still screwed in tight.

“How did you get into my room?”

A blush rushes across his cheeks. “You’re gonna be mad, but I don’t care.” That’s not true. His face is coated in worry, so clearly, he cares.

“Try me.”

Handing me the clothes, he guides me out of the closet, then past the bed. We walk into the hallway, and I stare in horror at the sight in front of me. There’s a big, gaping hole in the ceiling, crudely cut. Sheetrock covers the carpet like liberally sprinkled carpet freshener. Resting against the wall is a handsaw.

“You cut my ceiling open?”

He nods proudly. Proudly! I ought to take him over my knee and blister his ass until it’s bruised. Feel it grow warmer and warmer each time my hand touches down. Maybe let a finger slip between his crack. Maybe even my tongue.

No. Focus, Miles.

“You literally locked me out. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Go home. You were supposed to go back home.”

His eyes narrow, and he drives a finger into my chest. “Now, you listen to me. I have waited long enough. I love you, Miles. I’ve loved you all my life, and I’m not letting you ruin this because you’re scared of losing your church.” He points at the clothes in my hand. “Go get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Where?”

“If I told you, that would defeat the purpose. Go get dressed. I won’t tell you again.” He reaches for the handsaw and gives me a terrifying grin. “Tick-tock, Daddy.”

Sighing, I close my eyes. “Fine.”

It takes me five minutes to get changed, and when I return to my bedroom, Dare is sitting beside Mal on the bed, holding a can of soda in front of her face as she sips from a straw. They don’t notice me yet, so I lean against the door frame, watching them in silence.

“I promise we won’t be long,” he whispers. It’s the kindest tone I’ve ever heard him take with her. “And I’ll untie your arms if you want.”

She shakes her head. “I’m comfortable enough. It’s fine.”

“I brought my laptop. Loaded up a bunch of funny videos I thought you might enjoy.”

Her lip tugs into a smile. “That was sweet of you. Thank you, Darren.”

Dare’s cheeks grow red. To my surprise—and to Mal’s, judging by her quick gasp—he leans in and gives her a hug. Engulfed by Darren, Mal spots me in the doorway, and her smile goes just a bit wider.

“I’m ready,” I say, getting his attention. He quickly launches off the bed, looking embarrassed at being caught hugging his alleged archnemesis.

“Alright,” he squeaks, not meeting my eyes. “Let’s do this then.”