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“I love you, Ryan,” he says, kissing me again. This time, his lips press against my temple. “It’s the truth. It’s my truth, whether you believe it or not.”
I stop at the gate at the end of the drive, instead of looking left or right for oncoming traffic, I adjust the rearview mirror and look back. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and the cabin still looks about to fall down. Miller is still outside. His tiny figure is sitting on the bottom step of the porch, knees bent, one hand lying limp at his side, the other sweeping semi-circles under his eyes.
I beat at his chest, tearing at his T-shirt. “Stop that!” I yell, wiping his face angrily. “Stop it! You’re Miller fucking MacAvoy. No one makes you look like that.” There’s a painful swallow and the start of a slow, uncertain smile. “Not even you?”
The fucker. He’s going to make me say it. He’s Miller, so of course he’s going to make me say it. I roll my eyes and shake and nod my head at the same time. He tightens the arm he has around my waist and slides his other hand up my chest, and like that, I breathe easy. “‘Cause I love you, you dick.”
I scoop her up and hold her to my chest, breathing her in. She hisses halfheartedly and then goes completely limp in my arms.
Omg they got their cat, tears
A slow, too-big smile creeps up my face when I see the name on the screen. Miller Fucking MacAvoy. Oh, go ahead, judge away.
He looks around furtively. “You working?” “No! Definitely not. I’m not a—” He does this all the time. Never gets tired of it. Not even a little bit.
N O. They don’t no role play that Ryan is a prostitute. I am fucking deceased
“Are you sure, baby? ‘Cause I’m buying.”
“Hell, I’d pay good money just to see those lips wrapped around my cock.” “No.” I turn away from him and pull my jacket tight around my neck, pinching my face as tight and prissily as I can. “I would never. I’m not that kind of guy.” “No? Not that kind of guy, huh? Not the type to take a dick up your ass for money, huh? Ah, I get it. I understand. You got morals or some shit like that.” He stops the vehicle. “I don’t have any of those myself, but I’ve heard of them.”
The hours we’ve been apart suddenly feel intolerable, and I can’t stand it for one second more. I throw my arms around him and mash my lips against his, kissing his cheeks and his neck until he squirms in pleasure and everything feels right with the world.
“Can’t help it. Can’t hate him even though he’s a dick. Just can’t, ‘cause…” “Say it.” “Can’t hate him ‘cause he’s so much like you.” Miller wraps an arm around my neck and lets an absolute belter of a laugh fly free. “Like father like son.”
“If your dad’s anything like you, that guy’s ass is in for a world of hurt.” “Guy?”
Yeah his ass will be through the wringer, so I’ve been told…
The thing that makes it unique. It’s the W + A he showed me back in our dorm room. The reason he does projects like these. Projects that take time and cost him blood, sweat, and tears. Projects that are about building things rather than breaking them down.
There are fine horizontal markings all the way up it. A ballpoint pen carved into gloss paint. From two feet to just over six. A marking for each year that passed. It’s a map of the children who lived here and the route they took growing up. Colin, Graham, and Sarah.
Sandy won’t like that. She won’t like it a bit.
Bet money he already bought it
He raises the flashlight and washes the gnarled branches of an old tree in artificial light. “A lemon,” he whispers, moving the beam to a neighboring tree. “A lime.” He moves it again, this time to a young tree, supple, espaliered, and so recently planted the ground beneath it still shows signs of disturbance. “And a peach tree for you.”
STOP I AM LITERALLY OUT TO DINNER WITH MY FAMILY AND TEARS ARE STREAMING DOWN MY FACE
“Sandy isn’t coming tonight, is she?” “No, baby, she’s not. I’ve already bought it.” “And it isn’t a development, is it?” I turn in his arms and look up to face him. “It’s…” Emotion rises. More emotion than I have space to store. It rises so high it has no choice but to leak out of my eyes. “It’s Annabel, isn’t it?”
I KNEW IT. Ugh, the tears
“We’re home.”
“I’m not sure if you're aware, but I work for the Department of Education, and, and they aren’t known for paying well. I’m just a lowly government employee, and this is a dream house. It’s going to cost a fortune, and I-I…” I bat my lashes innocently. “I just don’t think I can afford to live in an area like this.” His eyes spark, metal against metal, and he tilts his head back. “Aw, don’t worry, baby, we’ll work it out. I’m sure we can find something you have that I want. Something I’ll pay for.”
I’m dead. I died. RIP me
I know that Miller will make me pay to live here. He’ll make me pay over and over. He’ll make me pay in every room of this house—on, or bent over every flat surface. He’ll make me pay more than once. He’ll buy pieces of me, and I’ll happily let him. He’ll buy them and keep them forever because that’s how buying things works. He’ll smile and say, I bought it, so it’s mine.
“Rent,” he says, brushing his lips against mine, stealing a kiss so sweet and so chaste that my head spins and my mouth drops open for more, “paid in full.”
This book was fucking perfection
