Page 79 of We Burn Beautiful

“You poured gasoline all over him. Lit match after match to scare him.” Gray turned around and glared at his mother. “And you were part of it, Momma. I know God says I have to forgive, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I even want to. Kent didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want him to, and then I let him take the fall. I may not be able to forgive myself for that, but he says he has. That he does. That I’m worthy of redemption. That alone makes him worth ten of you. I promised him I’d never stand by silently again.”

“You’d walk away from God? For a queer?” Trevor asked. It was at that moment that Gray spotted me approaching. The way his hardened expression fell, and he softened completely, right in front of me. I’d never seen a more stunning sight.

“Not from God. From you. I’d walk away from you and toward Kent Fox any day. He gives me purpose. He gives me power. More passion for life than I’ve ever had. He gives me love, and he gives me strength. Strength enough to stand here and tell you—to tell you all—that I’m gay. I’m gay, and I’m not ashamed. So, if you want to talk about casting people out, to talk about people who deserve to be put to death, then you better start talking about me, too.”

Those words. All of those beautiful words. And they were meant just for me.

“Gray,” I said as I made my way up the aisle.

Gray grinned as I approached, and every trace of anger fell from his face. The sight I was left with was a smile so wide it could swallow the world whole.

Trevor looked like he was foaming at the mouth. “He ain’t a believer. He’s just here to cause more discourse. He came back to split this town in two.”

I rolled my eyes. “I work at a grocery store. For God’s sake, I’m hardly capable of a citywide revolt. Calm down, you big drama queen.” More murmurs came from the congregation behind us. I turned around, waving at the sea of shocked faces. “Hey, y’all.”

Becca was sitting toward the front, waving at me like a damn fool. I snorted, lifting my arm and waving right back at her.

“Why are you here?” Trevor growled at me. Sweat was still pouring down his brow, and his distorted face looked like that of a rabid beast, only less adorable.

“My boyfriend invited me. I was just going to sit in the back until service was done, but then you started spouting off your homophobia.”

“Homophobia?” He snorted. “You think I’m scared of you? Of a queer? What’s to be scared of?”

“Language,” I warned him. “You’re in my dad’s church. Watch your mouth.”

He stepped forward, his hand balled into a fist meant for me. “I should have lit that match and let you burn. Maybe I still can. Maybe I’ll pay you a little visit tonight.” He looked up at the crowd and smirked. “Maybe we all will. It’s gonna be a nice night. We could have ourselves a bonfire.” Gasps echoed across the room, and every eye in the building focused on him. When the gravity of his words hit him, his jaw went slack, and the color drained from his face.

“You know, when I heard that you were preaching here, it didn’t make sense to me. You’ve never been all that pious. Not as kids, at least. Gray said that you’d found your calling.” I shook my head. “That you’d said you wanted to be the light in the darkness. Help people on their way. That wasn’t it, though, was it? Because what light could you ever spread besides fire and fear? You’re here because of this, aren’t you? So that you can still be that same bully you always were, putting other people down so you can feel better about yourself. I was wondering how long you’d be able to keep up the act, Trev.” I took Gray’s hand and kissed it. “I should have come in sooner. Let’s go, Gray. I don’t want you to have to listen to this.”

Gray nodded and squeezed my hand. We turned around and made for the door, but Trevor’s hand wrapped around my arm and he spun me around. He stared at me with the same look on his face that he had all those years ago. The look he had when he pulled me off of Gray. “This isn’t over.”

I shook my head and held my arm out, pointing at the congregation. “It is for me. And it looks like it is for some of them.” Every member of the denim debutantes walked toward the exit. Then, others joined in. Not everyone, and not even the vast majority, but there was more than enough to cause my heart to swell with pride. I leaned forward and grinned at him. Trevor’s grip loosened, and I shook his hand off me. “You don’t scare me, Trevor. Not anymore. So, if you want to come by my house with gas and matches, if you want to pick up where we left off, then come on.”

His face dropped, and he took a step back, watching as twenty-two members of his church stormed out.

I took Gray’s hand and stared into his eyes. “Take me out to the lake, baby.” I wanted to wade in the water with him. He’d always said it felt sacred out there. That God had blessed it just for us. If he couldn’t have this anymore—if he was giving up his church for us—I didn’t want him to lose his relationship with God. It didn’t matter that I didn’t believe; Gray did. Unlike West Clark Apostolic, my love didn’t come with conditions. He didn’t have to lose one to keep the other. “Until you find a new church, we can spend our Sundays there. You can talk about God to me. You can even preach to me if you want.” He looked like he was going to cry, so I gave his hand another squeeze.

“You don’t mind?”

I smiled at him. “It’s important to you, Two-liter. And if it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.”

He nodded, his smile still cemented on his face. “Let’s go to church, then.”

REASON SEVENTEEN

I love you.

Twomonthshadpassedsince Gray sat me down and told me we needed to talk. My mind instantly went to wedding bells and matching rings. Instead, he’d told me he wasn’t ready to leave West Clark for the bright lights of Dallas, Texas. I’d reminded him that my home was wherever he was, and if he didn’t mind us never making it higher on the social ladder than a grocery store manager and the shelf stocker he was fucking on the side, it was enough for me.

As a compromise, he’d suggested moving in together. Then, he never mentioned it again. Despite his initial offering of cohabitational bliss, any time I broached the subject, he’d been strangely noncommittal. I was starting to worry that he’d reconsidered until I woke one Wednesday afternoon to an empty bedroom.

Fearing a vicious home intruder had entered my room as I slept, stealing what few possessions I had to my name, I picked up my oscillating tower fan and made my way downstairs to confront the stealer of skincare products and form-fitting clothing.

When I reached the bottom of the staircase, the dastardly defiler of bedrooms was napping on the sofa. I walked over to the couch and knelt in front of my balding beauty, kissing the bare patch of skin on his crown. His eyes opened slowly, and in his state of half-sleep, he looked at me with nothing but confusion in his eyes.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” I whispered.

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”

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