Chapter Eleven #2
I tip my head, feigning suspicion. “This better not be about the snowmen again. Or the feral cats behind the B&B. Or how you tried to teach Dee to ride a horse and she ended up in the pond last week. Yes, I heard about that.”
He laughs, shoulders shaking. “Guilty. But this time, you’re not going to be mad.”
I arch a brow, stepping back just enough to cross my arms and give him the full drag mom is listening treatment. “Spill.”
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a rush.
“I got the job. The caretaker gig at the B&B. Mal, Liam, and the whole crew officially offered it to me, and I said yes. Like, yes-yes. Not just for the winter. Not just until I get bored and run again.” His voice goes soft, almost shy.
“I’m staying, May. For good this time. If you want me. ”
There’s a beat where I can’t speak. Then another.
The silence is thick enough to cut with a stiletto.
He’s staying. He’s really staying. Everything inside me goes bright and unmoored all at once.
My vision blurs. I blink fast, but I can’t stop the smile stretching my mouth wide. “You’re…you’re really doing it?”
Miles nods, sheepish, grinning so hard it looks painful. “Yeah. I want to. I want you. I want all of this. I want to build something here. With you.”
My knees nearly buckle. I lunge at him, almost knocking us both over as I crash into his arms. He catches me easily, spinning us in a slow, giddy circle.
“Fuck. You have no idea…” My voice cracks, embarrassingly emotional, but I don’t care. “You have no idea what that means to me.”
He presses his forehead to mine, warm and solid.
“I think I do,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing me like he’s been waiting his whole life to finally get it right.
It’s different this time. Softer. Unhurried.
He tastes like mint and honey and the promise of all the mornings we never got to have.
I slide my hands up his chest, into his hair, and let myself just want.
Want him, want this, want a future where I get to be May on stage and Mason in his arms, and both are loved.
We migrate to the bed, giggling like idiots. Fairy lights hang above the headboard, casting everything in a warm, forgiving glow. The window looks out over the back alley, snow still falling in fat, lazy flakes, while the neon from the Sleigh Queen sign throws a soft pink wash across the sheets.
I tuck my legs under me and pat the mattress beside me. Miles flops down with a groan. “This is the best bed I’ve been on in years,” he says, his voice muffled by the pillow.
I snicker. “You say that to all the boys.”
He props himself up on one elbow and meets my gaze, his smile softening. “No. Just you.”
Something in my chest goes molten.
We talk for a while. About the job, the town, and what it’ll be like for him to stay.
He tells me about the horses, the barn cats, and how Mal and Hawk are already plotting to rope him into the next town fundraiser.
I tell him about the Sleigh Queen’s Winter Fest plans, the new crop of baby queens, and how Patti wants to add a drag brunch, but I refuse to cook eggs for this many people unless I get hazard pay.
It’s easy. Stupidly easy. Lying here, listening to the wind rattle the window while Miles rubs slow circles on my thigh and I let myself lean into him.
Eventually, talking fades into touching, and the air between us thickens with something else.
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and the way he moans against my mouth when I nip his lower lip makes me shiver.
We peel off layers slowly, gentle and unhurried.
His hands are big and rough, but he uses them like he’s afraid I might break.
I tease him for it, but secretly, I love it. I love being seen like this.
He maps every inch of me, memorizing the shape of my ribs, the curve of my hip, the scar on my shoulder from when I fell off the loading dock during a Priscilla number and insisted the show must go on. He kisses it, soft and reverent, and I feel more cherished in that moment than I have in years.
When he’s inside me, it’s slow and tender.
No games, no power plays. Just two men trying to rewrite the past with every careful, deliberate touch.
He holds my face in his hands, eyes locked on mine, and if I wasn’t already gone, that would have done it.
I come first, messy and loud, clutching him close and gasping his name.
He follows, shuddering against me, and for a long minute we just breathe, skin to skin, heartbeats tripping over each other in the quiet.
After we clean up as best we can, we collapse back into bed. The comforter is too warm, the sheets tangled, but neither of us moves to fix it. We just lie there, wrapped around each other, while the snow outside keeps falling.
Miles traces lazy patterns on my back, humming under his breath. “You ever think we’d get here?” he asks, his voice so soft I almost miss it.
“Not in a million years,” I admit. “But I’m glad we did.”
He nuzzles my neck, beard scratchy and perfect. “Me too. For what it’s worth, I’m in. All in. I want to see what forever looks like with you.”
I close my eyes and let the words settle over me like a blanket. For the first time, it doesn’t feel scary. It just feels right.
“Me too,” I say, and mean it.
Outside, the Sleigh Queen sign glows brighter against the snow. Downstairs, the club is silent. Up here, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.