Page 71 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

The last paragraph in the document catches my eye, and when I reread it, my heart skips a beat.

A kiss.

A gay kiss in one of Miles’ novels. I’ve dreamed of this moment since the day he started writing. I used to have copies of his books where I used White Out and an ink pen to change the female love interest’s pronouns and rename them all Darren. Not at home. I would never be that stupid. When I was at college, I missed him so much, it was the only way I could manage. I had to throw them all away before I came home, and I think that hurt more than walking willingly into the closet after years of living in the light.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of breaking them up,” Miles says quietly. He walks across the room wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs, making my heart hammer in the process. When he reaches me, he pulls me against him, and I don’t complain about his damp skin pressed against my clothes, because this hug feels unbreakable. “I had to give them their happily ever after. They’ve earned it.”

“So do we.”

“So do we,” he agrees.

I smile up at him and nod. “Will you read it to me?”

“I’ll read it and every other book I write to you. You can cuddle up against me, and I’ll read until you fall asleep.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m probably going to rewrite all my books so far. The whole time I was writing them, I think part of me saw the female characters as men, and I want to honor the sad, scared man who wrote them.”

“I think that’s really beautiful,” I tell him, standing on my toes and giving him a quick kiss. “We’re going to be happy, aren’t we?”

“Baby, we already are.”

epilogue

“We’re on a one-way train to Sodom, Darren,” the sassy motherfucker says to me, as if this is all my fault somehow.“Look at that man. Why the heck is he wearing a leather mask that looks like . . . is that supposed to be a dog?”

I sigh and swing an arm around Miles’ shoulder. “Puppy play. It’s all terribly innocent.”

“There’s so much skin everywhere.” Miles turns his head and stares in horror as a man in assless chaps walks by. He swallows thickly before looking at me, color steadily draining from his face. “Maybe we should leave. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

I wag a finger in his face. “You were absolutely prepared. We must’ve watched at least six hours’ worth of Pride clips on YouTube.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Allegedly. You can keep saying it all you want, but I don’t remember a single second of it.”

“And whose fault is that, huh? I’m not the one who stupidly decided to take one of his sleeping pills last night, potentially ruining what’s supposed to be your first time at Pride. Why do you even still have them? You know what they do to you.”

“They work really well, Dare. You have to give credit where credit’s due.”

“I most certainly do not. And you don’t get to freak out and make us leave early. It’s not my fault you blacked out on barbiturates, you goddamn lush. So, no. I’m not letting you miss this. Cope. Too bad, so sad.”

“They’re not barbiturates. You know it’s just Benadryl, bergamot zest, and—”

I cover his mouth with my hand. “Don’t you dare leak Meadows’ recipe. It’s the only thing he’s prouder of than Pet. I think he would literally saw our heads off if the formula got out.”

“Formula,” he scoffs. “Regardless, it’s the only thing that helps with my insomnia.”

“Well, it doesn’t help my asshole. I mean, my God, you practically fucked me into the floorboards last night. I’ve still got splinters.” I stare down at my leg and pout. “Probably gonnaget gangrene. Might have to have it removed.” I look up at him cheekily. “Would you still love me?”

He rolls his eyes, and gone is his worry. Gone is the look of scandalization on his face. He’s just my Miles. The side of Miles the rest of the world rarely gets to see. Well, a few of them get to see it now, thanks to his new podcast,Miles to Go: A Journey Back From the Other Side of the Rainbow. Is the title lengthy? Yes, but so is Miles’ cock, and you’re welcome to suck it if you don’t like it. Actually. No. Scratch that, because I’ll slit the throat of anyone who tries.

I know he would argue that it’s actuallyourpodcast, but becoming a media personality was always his dream, not mine. It’s like I keep telling him, if I want to give my boyfriend the spotlight he deserves, I’m going to fucking do it. End of discussion.

“Goofball,” he says with a chuckle. “Of course I would still love you. They could amputate your penis and I’d still love you.”

I gape at him. “How dare you speak that into existence? You know what? Screw you, Miles Brooks. How about you lose your penis? How’s that for your stupid little hypothetical world?”

Rather than respond, Miles sighs and scoops me into his arms. “Put your legs around my waist.”

“Or what?” It’s not that I don’t want him to carry me—because I do—I just kind of like pushing his buttons. “What if I don’t? What are you gonna do about it, Daddy?”

Miles leans in and whispers the most obscene sexual acts I’ve ever heard. I didn’t even know he could bend his legs that far. And I think it would take a super-strong core to be able to hold the position without falling.

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