Page 83 of Dangle

Soft and gentle, Slone’s fingers carded through my hair, and he stared at me, but not into my eyes. Above. As if watching my hair sift through his fingers. That ‘I’m thinking deep shit’ face I’d come to know and…yeah, not going there. I was freaked out enough.

“You were left a legacy. One you didn’t ask for. You know that. I’ve heard you mutter it when you think no one’s listening or could hear.”

I nodded, staring up into his face.

“It’s the cross you’ve had to bear.”

The words stopped, but the thought lingered in the air.

“But you realize, don’t you, that it’s not the legacyyouhave to leave behind? You could choose to leave behind something completely you.”

“What do you mean?

“I mean, your family, the Malacheks, the legacy they left stifled you. It felt heavy and oppressive, but you’ve already railed against that legacy, Trey. You bravely stepped out of the oppression, out of the shadows, out of the closet, and into the world, into the light. You showed up in your reality as your true, authentic self. That, sweetheart, that can be,ISyour legacy. At least part of it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. You’re a brave little fucker. You and Aiden and Gavin and that throuple out in Cali? You are all showing the queers of the world that you can do whatever the fuck you want to do and do it as your authentic self; without permission. You reached out and snatched your place in the world. You stepped up and said, ‘I’m here, I’m queer,’ and then you just continued doing the job.”

I thought about all he said, and I nodded. Slowly, my chin barely moved. And from his words grew an idea. A small one, but something I could do to make sure that Trey Malachek showed in the world as Trey Malachek and not the son of Donnie and Oksana or the grandson of Victor and Donald.

With the growing idea came a smile. Small at first, but soon it pulled at my face. I tackled him, slanting my mouth across his.

Rage burnedhot and heavy the next day while standing outside EDGE with Slone. It made the pain and anger I felt toward my parents, my dad especially, that much sharper. The pain cut like a rusty knife. It burned and twisted the already negative feelings I had about my family and the place that should’ve been my home, my safe place, the softest spot in the world for me to land, because it was a damn hornet’s nest that someone had used as a fucking piñata. Everyone there hated life and the world and every motherfucker on the surface of the planet; whether they had met them or not didn’t matter. They were miserable assholes. The only thing that seemed to give my father any sort of satisfaction was berating me and tearing other people down.

Lately, it was Aiden Mercer. Yes, he was still going on about Aiden and Coach Storm as if the two of them were the be-all and end-all behind my lack of a signed NHL contract.

“The rules hold, even though you’ll be in New York,” Slone said, and tears burned the backs of my eyeballs.

I couldn’t ask that of him. I wouldn’t see him for months. Besides…

“I see what you’re doing, Trey. You’re gearing up to let me go or tell me I can do whatever is going through your damn head, but, baby boy, I’m still your Daddy even if you are in New York or on the moon. And I will stay your Daddy, even if you never call me by that name, until you no longer need me or want me.”

“Slone—”

He pulled me into his embrace. “No. Do not go there, Trey. Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you don’t want me when you clearly fucking do.”

The tears burning the backs of my eyeballs finally found their way around and spilled over onto my cheeks. My forehead dropped to his shoulder with a heavy thud.

“Ow,” we both said.

He laughed, “You chucklehead.”

“Sorry,” I muttered against his neck, squeezing him tighter and tighter.

“I’ll take more than that to put me out of commission, baby boy.” His voice sounded strained, probably from my python impersonation, but I wanted the imprint of his body on mine because who knew when I’d see him again.

Keeping my head buried, I whispered, “Don’t go replacing me while I’m gone.”

His lips pressed against my pulse point, probably the only place he could reach the way I’d wrapped myself around him. “Never,” he whispered, his voice sounding wet.

I pulled back, self-conscious of the tears staining my face, only to see the low light of the street lamp outside EDGE glinting off the tears on his handsome face. He smiled at me, cupping my face to wipe at the wetness with his thumbs.

“I expect phone calls from the road, you understand?” he asked.

I nodded, refraining from answering verbally; otherwise, the silent tears would become ugly crying. How I grew so fucking attached to this man in such a short timeframe I would never know or understand, but I also didn’t give a flying fuck. He built me up; he cared for and about me, and encouraged me to be just Trey. So why or how it happened mattered little in the scheme of things.

“No texting while driving. And watch out for the idiots who should never have been given a license. They seem to multiply by the day.”