The Anti-hero (The Goode Brothers)

Sage holds open the black garbage bag as I scoop the remaining paper plates and plastic cups in. I don’t even know what time it is. After I woke up to find her gone, I came down to an unexpected gathering.

And honestly, I haven’t been tempted to even check my phone in the last two hours, so I really have no idea what time it is.

I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. There’s something so authentic about Gladys and Mary—right along with every person who joined them for dinner. I don’t know their situations, but it is obvious that that’s not what this is about. It isn’t about feeding the homeless to feel better about themselves or to fulfill some promise to God.

It’s about feeding them because they are hungry.

My mother would have loved this.

For the first time in a while, thinking about my mother doesn’t incite an immediate stabbing pain of guilt in my chest. Instead, I just focus on the memories, mostly of a time before the megachurch and Dad’s big career. Back when things were simple.

And then I look at Sage. Without any makeup, her cheeks take on a natural hint of pink to match her bubblegum hair. Even without those fake lashes and thick black lines around her eyes, they still pop with a deep ocean blue.

I have no idea what this thing is between us now. And I don’t think she does either. But it’s real. At least that much we know is true.

This morning she asked to stop the fake dating scheme, but even though I agreed, I’m not sure I’m ready to let it go. I can’t let my father get away with his lies just like that.

But do I still need Sage to do it?

I don’t want to think about that right now. So once we’ve cleaned up the Laundromat and closed its doors for the night, I stop her before she goes back upstairs.

“I want to take you somewhere,” I say. She stops in her tracks and turns back toward me with an arched brow.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise,” I reply with a lopsided grin.

“Will I like it?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Could be.”

“Will you wear that?” She points to my borrowed outfit.

“If you want me to.” I laugh.

She saunters toward me, pressing her index finger to my chin. “Will there be sex involved?”

My laughter fades away. “I’d like there to be.”

“Okay, good. I’m in. Let me just run upstairs and grab my keys,” she says as she bounces away from me toward the stairs. My eyes follow her every step of the way until she disappears up into the stairwell.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the dark parking lot and Sage turns to stare at me with confusion.

“How is this dangerous or sexy?” she asks, gesturing toward the dark and empty church looming before us.

“I lied,” I reply with a sheepish smile. The parking lot is littered with potholes and weeds growing up through the cracks. Last thing I heard, the church facility is used sparingly for functions but doesn’t operate the way it used to when I was a kid.

As I put the truck into park, I just stare at it for a moment.

“Why did you bring me here?” she whispers, clearly noticing the melancholy nostalgia on my face.

“This is where I grew up. This is who I am,” I reply in a near-silent mumble. “Not that big fancy megachurch or the TV broadcasts. You asked if I believe in God, and the answer is yes. This is where I first met him.”

I notice her smile slightly in my periphery as she reaches out and touches my hand. “Let’s go inside.”

My head snaps in her direction. “What? You can’t be serious. That’s trespassing.”

She rolls her eyes theatrically with a scoff. “Come on, Goody Two-shoes. Let’s go get in some trouble.” With that, she hops out of the truck and walks toward the dark church.

“I’ve already been to jail today,” I call, but she ignores me. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself before following behind.

As I jog up to her, I glance in all directions. We’re no longer in the city center, but we’re not really out of the city enough to feel entirely safe. There’s a good chance we’re not the only people looking to break into this place tonight.

“There aren’t even security cameras,” she says as she pulls on the front doors. “This will be a piece of cake.”

“Sure,” I reply skeptically. Then, I meander my way around the back, getting hit with another wave of memories as I see the dilapidated playground on the back side. They seriously haven’t updated that thing in twenty-five years?

The back door that leads to the kitchen is locked too, but when Sage tugs on the large sliding door to the nursery, it budges. Holy shit, we’re really going to break into this place.

Why? I have no fucking clue.

With some strength, we’re able to shimmy it open enough to slide inside. And just like that, I’m transported back in time. Everything from the walls to the floor brings back an onslaught of memories and suddenly, I’m moving through the church, making my way to the center like it’s calling to me. A siren song from my childhood.

The moment I walk into the main space, I stop in my tracks and stare ahead. It’s like reattaching my own shadow or taking a breath I’ve been holding for twenty-five years. I feel a part of my childhood I forgot even existed.

Suddenly, Sage is at my side, her hand drifting down my arm and lacing her fingers with mine.

“Do you smell that?” I whisper, barely able to even move.

“The dust or the mold?” she replies with a cough, making me smile.

“I haven’t smelled that in over two decades. It smells like home.”

Her hand squeezes mine. Then she pulls me up to the front. Lit only by the bright exterior lights shining through the windows, the first thing I notice is that the carpet that once lined the aisles has been pulled up, leaving exposed concrete below. The pews seem to be in disrepair and the windows above the pulpit have been boarded up.

How could they let this happen?

This place used to be beautiful. People worshiped here. This was God’s house and we let it fall into decay.

When we reach the front, Sage nudges me toward the pulpit. I stare at her in confusion, so she nudges me again.

“Go ahead.”

“And what?” I ask.

“Stand up there. Pretend this place is yours.”

I laugh, but then I do as she says. I walk up to the dusty podium and I place my hands against the surface, staring out at the empty pews in the dim light.

“What would you do?” she asks, sitting in the first pew and resting her hands in her lap. “If this place was yours.”

Thinking about it for a moment, I push away everything with my father and his church. I let twelve-year-old Adam, who had been torn away from the life he knew, answer her question.

“I’d…fill the rec room with Mary’s enchiladas and I’d feed as many people in Austin as we could.”

I can barely see her smile in the darkness. So I go on.

“I’d look every member of the congregation in the eye. I’d learn their names and I’d make sure each and every one knows they are all worthy and loved by God.”

My throat stings and my eyes grow moist as I struggle to speak the next one. With a quiver in my lip, I mutter with conviction, “I’d hang a rainbow flag above the door so Isaac knows everyone is welcome.”

Sage’s smile grows brighter, the light outside catching a glint of moisture in her eyes.

“I’d make this place feel like home.”

Slowly, she stands and walks toward me, squeezing herself between me and the pulpit. “I like the sound of that,” she whispers as she lifts onto her toes to kiss me.

Before taking her lips with mine, I look her in the eye. “Would you be there?”

Her expression changes as she lowers to her feet without a kiss. Averting her eyes, she presses her hands to my chest.

“I don’t know, Adam.”

And I understand. This chasm between us isn’t something we can cross easily. How could you build a life with a person so fundamentally different? What could our future possibly hold when our pasts are so vastly contradictory?

But for now, I love the feel of her in my arms and the comfort of her in my life. For now, I’ll savor that much.

Putting my fingers under her chin, I lift her eyes until she’s staring at me. “It’s okay,” I whisper, so she knows. We may not be forever, but we can be for now.

Grabbing the backs of her thighs, I swiftly lift her onto the surface and position myself between her legs. She wraps her arms around my neck and goes in for the kiss again. This time, I take it, reveling in the warm sweetness of her lips and how much I love playing with that ring with my tongue.

Before we get too hot with this kiss, I pull away. “So what about you?” I ask, leaning away to look into her eyes.

“What would I do if this church was mine?” she replies with lifted brows. “Probably turn it into a sex club.”

This time when I laugh, I lean my forehead against her shoulder and squeeze her ass, pulling her closer. The sound of her giggles against my ear is sweet and calming.

When I pull away, I clarify my question. “No, what would you do if Pink was yours? What would you do with it?”

“Oh.” Her eyes light up with excitement. “First thing I would do is reinstate the two-drink limit and stick with it.”

“Good.”

“Then I would fire every one of those lousy bouncers and hire a whole new security staff.”

“Excellent.”

She takes a deep breath, gazing off into the distance as she thinks. “And then…I would find people who could teach real courses on sexuality for men and women. Couples could come in to find a new spark together. Assault survivors could have a place to feel safe and empowered. Members could learn how to practice BDSM safely. And I’d abolish the VIP section entirely.”

With excitement, she tightens her arms around my neck. “It would be more than just a sex club. It would be like…a sex church!”

I laugh again, tugging her even closer. “A sex church?”

“I want people to feel at home there too,” she says, relating my dream to hers. And maybe they’re not really so different. Except they obviously are.

“Would you be there?” Her voice is soft and gentle as she asks me, and that chasm between us grows.

Because even she knows it’s impossible. Even with this rampage against my father and this mission of ruining my reputation, at some point, I’ll stop. I think that was always the understanding beneath this whole plan. I might rebel now, but eventually, I’ll come back.

“Preacher by day, Dom by night,” she says, tugging my neck toward her. Then as her lips touch mine, I slip my tongue between them, feeling for that comfort only her kisses seem to offer me anymore.

Even if I do feel torn in two. Broken and shattered until I don’t recognize myself. And my only anchor is her.

With our foreheads still pressed together, she whispers, “Those two things can coexist, Adam. We can be both.”

Then her hands slide from around my neck and slowly down my chest and stomach. Then over the stiff erection in my pants. “This is not a sin,” she whispers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

It doesn’t matter that my mind is arguing with her. She’s wrong. It is a sin. But that’s what we are, sinners.

As she grinds her hand over my cock, I let out a low, growling hum, pressing back against her touch. She doesn’t stop there. Sliding her fingers under the elastic of my ridiculous green joggers, she finds my dick and strokes it like it’s something to worship.

It still feels like a sin, but one I’d gladly burn for.

“Feel me,” she whispers in the dusty darkness of this nearly abandoned church. And we shouldn’t. We really, really shouldn’t. But right now, this overwhelming hunger to be inside her feels more powerful than God himself.

Reaching under her thin cotton dress, I massage her through her panties, and sure enough, the moisture of her arousal seeps right through.

“Always so ready for me, Peaches.”

At the first moan that slips through her lips, I lose my composure. I tear off her panties and throw them on the floor at my feet. Then I grab her under the knees and yank her to the edge of the pulpit, staring down to watch where my thick cock prods her wet heat.

“Watch it with me,” I tell her.

Together we gaze down in awe as I sink inside her. She lets out a small gasp as I fill her completely, latching her arms around my neck again and yanking my lips to hers for a kiss.

“What could be more godly than that?” she whispers through heavy gasps.

As I move out and back in, savoring the sensation of being inside her, my hunger growing with each thrust, I let myself feel what it’s like to fuck her without shame. Even here in my childhood church, on the same pulpit my father once preached from. I imagine God is here, not condemning this but celebrating it.

Without all the rules and doctrines, we are just two bodies finding the most divine and explicit pleasure two people can find together.

She cries out for me, so I hold her tighter, moving faster and harder. The podium rocks against her weight as I fuck the heavenly spot between her legs. Our moans echo through the empty building, and just like last night, I let myself go, indulging in what I truly want.

And what I truly want right now is her, filling her up, hearing her cries of pleasure, and fucking her as many times as I can before this ends.

My hips are pistoning against her now as I grow closer and closer to my climax. She’s hanging on to me for support with an expression of rapture on her face.

I pick up speed, pounding into her relentlessly as she lets out a deep, husky moan, seizing up in my arms as she lets out her cries of pleasure. When I finally feel myself releasing my own climax inside her, it feels like heaven.

And, like she said, what could be more godly than that?