Page 34 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

As I lie in his arms, catching my breath and caught up in my feelings, I watch him watching me. He’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell he’s scared. He’s probably worried I’m going to have a massive meltdown and kick him out, but that’s not what I want. Ever.

I touch his lips with mine, giving him a gentle reassurance.

“I love you, Dare.”

A tear falls down his cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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 aninnocent 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’tThe 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?”

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