Page 21

I’ve killed a man. Twice. The same man, but still. The worst part is, there’s no doubt in my mind I would do it again. It’s been two weeks since it happened, and just the thought of Brother Matthews’ red face with his hands around Darren’s throat sends spikes of rage digging up and down my spine.

The time I’ve spent with Darren—both pre-and-post-conversion—has fundamentally changed me as a person. For years, I’ve claimed to have overcome a barrier that never existed. It’s taken me almost forty years to feel comfortable in my own skin, and while I’m still not completely there, by the way Darren stares at me, I know I’m on the right track.

Our hands are essentially welded together as we pull into the church parking lot. It’s empty, save for one lonely little pickup truck near the entrance. We park beside it, and when I look into the window, Gray Collins is holding his crying husband, consoling him by kissing his forehead repeatedly. His husband, Kent, has one hand around Gray’s back, and the other, for reasons I don’t really understand, is resting on top of his head, his finger gently stroking Gray’s bald spot. Repeatedly.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?’ Darren asks me, and I give him a nod even though it isn’t true. I’m not ready for this at all, but it has to be done. Amends must be made. I step out of my truck and walk around, opening Darren’s door. He’s looking a little nervous, and I really don’t like how scared he seems, so I do what I need to do to comfort my boy. I lift him into my arms. He wraps his legs around my waist, just like he used to. Things were different then. Feelings were different, for me at least. I still have the same instinctual need to keep him safe, but there’s something darker, just beneath the surface. An unyielding heat that bubbles and blisters my resistance until it crackled, scorching away most of my shame, leaving room for new life to grow.

With Dare in my arms, I knock on Gray’s window, startling the pair. Gray looks over his shoulder and nods. As I take a step back, giving him room, Gray opens the door and steps down from his truck. Kent climbs down and walks around the truck, taking his place beside his husband.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Gray asks, and I point at the last window toward the end of the church.

“My office. We’ve got service in thirty minutes, but I wanted to sit down with you both and explain what happened.”

A few minutes later, we’re in my office, Kent and Gray on the sofa, me sitting on the edge of my desk facing them as Darren sits on my lap, his face buried in the crook of my neck, hiding away. Reality hit a few days after his father died, and he’s been getting lost in his head pretty often. That’s okay. He’s just a little lost right now, but I’ll always find him. I’ve always wanted to lead him to the light, and now I realize I’m all the light he needs.

“On the phone, you said he was trying to do an exorcism,” Gray says, his voice calm. Measured. He doesn’t seem angry, but he doesn’t seem very happy, either. I can’t say I blame him. Two days after everything happened, news broke of the missing pastor from West Clark. Pastor Collins’ wife, Sasha, was plastered across the screen of every local news show from here to Dallas, begging for information about his whereabouts. In one of the segments I caught, the pastor’s mother held a photograph of her two sons. In it, standing at Trevor Collins’ side was the man from the bar. Gray. Darren begged me not to contact him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of him spending the rest of his life not knowing if his brother was dead or alive.

“Miles and me,” Darren says, his voice small. “I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. He’s always had my heart, and he finally realized I had his too. Then they tried to take it away. Your brother and my dad tried to pray it out of me. Dad started choking me and then your brother, he—” Darren slams his eyes shut. I know what he’s trying to say—that the late pastor stood by praying instead of rendering aid—but the words won’t come. He still struggles with it. Last night he woke me up with his cries, and I had to hold him through it until he fell asleep in my arms. I didn’t mind, because I love providing comfort to my sweet boy, but seeing him so distressed makes me feel inadequate as a partner, because I don’t know how to help him. All I can do is hold him and hope he gets better.

“Did he hurt you?” Kent asks, and Gray reaches beside him and takes his hand. “Because he hurt me too, a long time ago.”

Darren sniffles. “Dad was trying to kill me, and he just stood there and let it happen.”

“I found them with him,” I add. “Darren’s father still had his hands around his neck. Pastor Collins was standing there lost in prayer. After I . . .” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “After I handled Darren’s father, your brother and I had words. I threatened him. He ran off, but he fell down the stairs on the way out. He hit his head on the wall when he landed.” I don’t tell him Sister Matthews pushed the man to his death, because what purpose would that serve?

“Gosh,” Gray whispers, closing his eyes.

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Kent speaks up. “He was a monster.” To my surprise, the pastor’s brother doesn’t argue with his husband. He nods with him. “When we were younger, he caught us in bed together. He beat me up pretty badly, and then he and his friends dragged me out to a lake, poured gasoline all over me, and struck a bunch of matches to scare me. I still can’t pump my own gas without having a panic attack. It’s been over twenty years, and sometimes I feel like I’m still back on that shore, waiting for them to kill me.” He looks up at Gray with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your brother, but I’m glad he’s dead. I’m happy he’ll never hurt anyone again.”

Gray swallows thickly. “I know. It probably makes me a terrible Christian, but I feel . . . not really glad, but relieved, I guess. He was a horrible, hateful person.” He looks up at Miles. “What happened to his body?”

I share a look with Dare. I know I can’t tell them Darren works at a hitman agency and the bodies were incinerated, the ashes dyed and used as sand in a rainbow-colored hourglass now resting on Meadows’ desk, because, for starters, who the heck is even going to believe a tale so tall? It sounds like something out of a really trashy movie.

“He’s been disposed of,” Dare says. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t take any risks.”

“Okay,” Gray says, nodding. “I’m okay with that.”

“You are?” Dare asks.

“I am.” He slides closer to his husband and squeezes his hand. “My brother took twenty years from us. He threatened me all my life, just so I would stay in the closet. The day I came out, I was dead to him.” His expression is one I can’t quite read. It’s like he’s either going to laugh or break into a guttural sob. “I’m not really worried about his remains.”

“What will we tell your father?” Kent asks him. “Your mom is beside herself. She’s already dealing with the fact that your mom and my dad . . .”

Gray shakes his head quickly. “No. No, Kent. We don’t talk about it. You promised.”

He rolls his eyes and turns to me. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s still coping with the fact that we’re stepbrothers now.” He glares at his husband-slash-stepbrother. “You swore to love, honor, and cherish me, but how is denying me my most simple of sexual wants either loving, honoring, or cherishing?”

“Dang-it, Kent. Cut it out. You know that makes me nervous.”

“And you know I want to refer to you as my stepbrother during sexy times, yet here we are, Grayson. Here we are, with the bluest fucking balls in the world.”

Gray’s eyes bulge. “We are at church ,” he hisses, and the hiss goes on for ages, filled with venom and sass. He flings his arm out, aiming a finger right at me, making me gasp, because what the heck did I do, aside from let his brother die? “That is a man of God!” Oh. Okay.

“And I am a myriad of emotions, none of them being sexually fulfilled.”

“I don’t sexually fulfill you anymore?”

Kent’s eyes widen when he sees Gray’s worried expression, and he wraps him up in his arms, holding him close. “I’m sorry, I was just harassing you because I’ve got a massive steplovers kink, apparently. Of course you fulfill me.” He gives Gray a kiss.

God. Is this what Darren and I will be like? Me, the stuffy, rational one. Darren, the eternally unhinged twink, even at forty. I try to picture Dare in his forties, but it’s hard to see. We’ll still be together, God willing, but I’ll be pushing fifty or sixty. Ah, hell. I’ll be a senior citizen, and he’ll be in the prime of his life. It worries me, because what if I’m holding him back? My problem with the age gap has always been the fact that we’ve known each other so long. I’ve never stopped to think about potentially becoming a hindrance. An anchor, dragging him down to the seafloor when he ought to be swimming the surface, wild and free.

His hand squeezes mine. Just the simplest of gestures, really, but it’s enough to pull me out of my head. He’s got an eyebrow raised at me, and I just shake my head, letting him know it’s okay.

When I look up, Gray shrugs at Kent. “As far as I’m concerned, this meeting never happened. Trevor can stay missing. I’ve got a big, beautiful life with the man I love. I finally got my happy ending, and I’m not wasting another second of my life worrying about him. When you came home to me, I chose you, and it was the easiest choice I’ve ever made, Half-pint.” He looks at our locked hands, then up at me, and smiles warmly. “Have you made your choice yet, Pastor?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down at my watch. “I have.” Darren doesn’t know what I’ve got planned, and I can’t wait to see the look in his eyes when it happens. “Service starts in ten minutes. You might want to stick around.” Throwing a wink at them, I stand and hold out a hand for Darren. He stares at it for a second, blinking as if he’s confused. “Come on, baby. Let’s give them a show.”

Furrowing his brow, he cocks his head to the side, and there’s just the slightest curve to his lips, telling me he’s putting the puzzle pieces together in his head. Our hands lock, and a static charge pops at our fingertips, startling him. He giggles softly—adorably—before squeezing my hand.

“I love you, Miles,” he whispers.

I tighten my grip. “I love you too.”

We journey down the hallways, pausing in the wings, right outside the sanctuary. Darren lifts his hand to straighten my tie. I know I have to do this—for us, and for Mal—but I’m getting a little antsy.

“Whatever you’re planning on doing,” Darren whispers, looking up through his lashes as he circles the tie around and tugs it through the loop. “You don’t have to. If you’re not ready, it’s okay. We can wait until you are.”

“Dare-bear,” I say, my voice soft. “I’m almost forty. If I don’t do this now, I never will, and I need it out of me. The secret. The shame. Everything.” I nod my head toward the door leading into the sanctuary.

He sniffles, and a tear slips down his cheek. It catches me off guard, because if he’s worrying about me, he shouldn’t. I’m going to be just fine. I’ve got Darren now. Before, when he was younger, I was always scared a woman would come along and steal my best friend right out from under me. Then he left, and I struggled to simply see straight. When he came home, I got to know this new version of him. The parts of himself he’d kept hidden for so long. My best friend in the world left me and came back as a whole new person. I was scared at first, because the change in him gave way to a change in me. For those first few days, he radiated pride, and it made it all seem so simple. He didn’t make a big declaration. He didn’t let anyone shame him for it. He simply treated it as fact. He was gay, and that was okay.

And then I ruined it. I was scared, and I was weak, and I was so much smaller than him. Part of me—a part I could never have admitted out loud at the time—was jealous of him. I wanted the very best for him, but seeing him come home wrapped in a rainbow flag I’d tried to keep hidden for decades, I was deeply, bitterly jealous. Jealous and scared that I would lose him to the flames of Hell. So, I tried to hide the parts of Darren that reminded me of me. Of the secret shame I’ve lived with all my adult life. I tried to snuff out his spark the way they snuffed out mine.

I brush his teardrop away and lean in, giving him a gentle kiss. He lips part, and it’s like he’s Saint Peter, opening those pearly gates and welcoming me home. I want to come home.

When we break the kiss, I give my boy a smile. “Are you ready?”

He bites his lip and nods. “Are you?”

I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Me too,” he agrees, grabbing the door handle and tugging it open.

The church is livelier than usual, thanks to our guests. Gray and Kent are seated near the front, and they’re in a heated conversation. Well, Kent is in a heated conversation. Gray is just staring ahead, nodding to make it seem like he’s paying attention. Beside them, Tatum is trying to calm an irate Scotty. I’m pretty sure he’s using one of the miniature pencils from the pew in front of him to threaten Sister Matthews’ life. Lord knows what she’s done to invoke his wrath, but the little man is terrifying, so I don’t envy her in the slightest. To my surprise, there are three other visitors beside them.

When the bottom fell out of our marriage, Mal and I visited a licensed sexologist for a few months, trying to reignite a spark we never shared. Our therapist, Dr. St. James, is sitting beside Sister Matthews, and he’s got two grown twinks who appear to be near-identical twins on each of his thighs, bouncing them up and down like toddlers. It’s an eerie sight, but Dr. St. James seems to be enjoying it, so who am I to judge?

We make it three steps before I do something I’ll never be able to undo. I take my best friend’s hand, and we walk down the aisle the way Mal and I used to, every service. There are a few shocked gasps, but for the most part, it seems like everyone thinks this is just more quirky Miles Brooks behavior.

Darren is moving slowly like he’s worried if he moves too fast, he’ll outrun the moment. I walk him to his usual pew, right up front, next to Mal. Mal has always sat in the aisle seat, because it’s where the church’s first lady belongs. She shares a smile with Darren, and for the first time since I’ve been in charge, she slides over and pats the empty space.

Darren scowls at her, and my God, I love this side of him. “Are you in the midst of a vicious cognitive decline? Why the hell would I sit in your seat?” His eyes narrow. “You did something to it, didn’t you? Are you trying to kill me? Have you poured acid on the seat in hopes my backside sizzles off? My butt is my calling card, Mallory Brooks. How dare you?”

She rolls her eyes. “I was literally just sitting there.”

“And you’re literally about to be sitting in the graveyard out back if you try pulling something like this again.”

“For God’s sake, I was offering you my place, because it’s where you belong.” She looks up at me, and in this one moment, it feels like the rest of the world just disappears. I like it this way. Me, my boy, and Mal. I kind of hope it always stays this way. I don’t want her out of my life. I don’t want her banished from our home, wherever that home might be. In an ideal world, we would be able to keep our house. Darren and I would stay in our little love nest every night, and Mal would eventually find someone to share her space. Maybe we could finally even get that dog she’s always wanted. “This seat belongs to the first lady, and that’s not me anymore. It hasn’t been me for a long time.”

Seemingly dumbfounded, Darren just blinks at her. She sighs, taking his hand and tugging him down—probably harder than the situation calls for—and poking him in the chest, telling him if he ever disobeys her again, she’ll take him over her knee.

As all this happens, it’s like the world around us is black. Slowly, life flickers back to life, and I’m pulled out of my trance by someone clearing their throat behind me. I turn to find Sister Andrews staring disappointedly at me.

“There’s an elephant in the room.” She points at Darren. “It’s him. He’s the elephant.”

“I’m skinny as a rake!”

Sister Andrews ignores Darren’s outburst, keeping her eyes on me. “Is this some sort of joke to you, son? Our souls are at stake and you’re practically making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

“Sister, I—”

“You did this, didn’t you?” she asks Darren. If she keeps talking with that hefty tone in her voice, we’re going to have a problem. “Did you seduce him? We all know a spirit latched itself onto you when you left for school. Trust me, we’ve all talked about it. You were a good Christian boy, and the demon of homosexuality hooked its claws into you. You came home all flamboyant, shoving it in our faces, wearing outfits that would put Mary Magdalene to shame.”

“Did you just call me a whore?” Darren asks, gaping at her.

She makes the grave mistake of poking my boy in his chest. “I did, and I’ll say it again.”

“Sister Andrews,” I growl, pulling her attention back to me. “Get your hands off him and get back to your pew.” Her eyebrows rise to the center of her forehead, and she opens her mouth to speak, closing them when I quickly shake my head. “You want to know the truth?” My heart slams in my chest as I look up at the congregation. My father’s flock. That’s who they’ve always been. Because they’ve never been mine, not truly.

The chapel door opens, and Meadows and Pet walk in. Meadows is dragging a large, squirming bag, and I’m pretty sure there’s a person inside. Pet is holding another duffle bag. They take a seat in the back pew—well, Meadows takes a seat. Pet just kneels beside him in the aisle. I don’t really know why they’re here, to be honest. I’m pretty sure Meadows doesn’t have a religious bone in his body, judging by his newly unearthed secret identity. Gosh. It really is like we’re living in a bad soap opera. He gives me a nod like he’s encouraging me, and I kind of resent it, because the only reason I’m doing this is because he outed me with that stupid video. A video which went viral after he tossed an ungodly amount of cash at his slew of Russian bots. Why the heck is he so invested in this? It’s creepy.

What’s not creepy is the look Darren is giving me right now. A simple smile, just for me. Encouraging eyes telling me I’ll be okay once it’s all said and done. For the first time in my life, I actually believe it. I can picture a happy life. One spent out of hiding. One filled with actual purpose.

“I could waste time with explanations and plead for acceptance,” I say, eyes panning across the congregation. “But I don’t want to.” It’s a realization that hits me like a tidal wave. “You’ve known me all my life. Most of you watched me grow up. You watched me, but you never really saw me. You didn’t know what living with my father was like. The things he did to keep me on the straight and narrow.” I close my eyes and breathe slowly, holding it for a few seconds just to harden my heart in preparation for what’s about to happen. “I’m gay. I’ve always been gay. I’ll always be gay.”

And there it is. My truth. Out in the world.

I wait for jeers that don’t come. As I glance around the room, resignation settles in my soul, because they look just as disgusted as I expected them to.

Again, I think, this is not my flock, and I am not their shepherd. It’s never felt more obvious than right now. Every eye is on me, and each set is filled with shame. It permeates, spreading through the room like fog until I’m feeling dizzied by their disdain. I can’t look at them, because looking at them reminds me of looking at Dad. Every member of this church shares his views. They hate the sin, and by the looks of it, they hate the sinner. So, when I can’t stand the sight of their hateful expressions, I find all the support I need in Darren’s eyes.

It’s only now that I make my decision. I could fight them to hold power, but why would I want power over people who believe the most fundamental part of me is disgusting? I’ve shared space with them four nights a week, ever since I was a baby, and now that history is erased in their eyes. They’re looking at me like I’m a stranger.

Sister Andrews glares at me. “It’s Adam and Eve, not Annette and Genevieve!”

I close my eyes and sigh. God grant me the patience.

“You ain’t supposed to lie with another man, boy,” someone else calls out, and it makes me flinch, because it sounds so much like my father, you’d think he was standing here beside me.

“We love you, sugar,” Sister Cruz says kindly, “but we can’t abide your sin. It would be one thing if you were living a chaste life, but . . . sodomy? Oh, Miles. Baby, where did we go wrong?”

“It’s Pastor Brooks!” Darren growls, standing from his seat. He slowly walks in front of me, craning his neck to glare at everyone. “Have you all lost your goddamn minds?”

Ah, hell. Yep. That’ll do it. That’s Darren’s one-way ticket to Hell sorted.