Kyle blinked. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Kyle took it. The dance floor wasn’t crowded, just enough bodies to feel alive. They maneuvered—awkward at first, but then Daddy Benson laughed under his breath and pulled him a little closer.
Kyle let himself lean in. His head rested near Daddy Benson’s shoulder, and the music softened around them, like it knew not to intrude.
“Did you really think I was going to ditch you tonight?” Daddy Benson asked.
Kyle hesitated. “Kind of.”
Daddy Benson’s fingers tightened around Kyle’s waist. “I didn’t come here looking for someone else. I would never treat you like that.”
Kyle wanted to believe him. Really believe him. But things like this didn’t happen to him, not like this, and not without a catch.
“You’re not just being nice?” he asked.
“No,” Daddy Benson said. “I’m being honest.”
Kyle’s chest felt tight. Not the bad kind but more like holding back something big and unfamiliar.
He looked up, meeting Daddy Benson’s eyes. “I guess I want something from you, but I want it to mean something to you too.”
“It already does,” Daddy Benson said.
They stayed like that, dancing slowly in the middle of the bar, and didn’t care who saw. Kyle let the moment settle, allowing himself not to brace for impact for once. And in that warm space between words and music, he realized Daddy Benson hadn’t just invited him to dance. He’d made room. Now his face hovered inches above Kyle’s until their lips met in their first kiss.
Daddy Benson held his hand when they walked to their booth. A peaceful calmness filled the air as they exchanged glances.
“Can we leave now?”
“Yes, and we can talk more about our relationship, but we do have to get up early.”
At this beautiful moment, Kyle’s phone rang. He checked who was calling. Mr. Greco. He must have figured out he had taken the money and left town. With a final swipe, he turned off his phone and put it away. Daddy Benson witnessed Kyle dismissing the incoming phone call, but he didn’t call him on it.
Chapter Eight
Benson
Missouri
The motel was quiet, just the soft hum of the heater and distant sounds of cars passing outside. Benson sat cross-legged on the bed, shoulders slightly hunched as he leaned into Kyle’s warmth. The lamp beside them gave off a soft yellow glow—kindof ugly but comforting. Kyle sat close, knees brushing Benson’s, his expression relaxed but still guarded as always.
Benson shifted, letting their thighs touch. “You know,” he said, voice low, a little shy, “I really, really like being here with you.” He felt Kyle’s hand slide over his thumb tracing the edge of his knuckles slowly. That simple gesture made Benson’s chest tighten.
Kyle smiled—small, hesitant. “Even in a weird motel in St. Louis?” he said.
Benson laughed softly. “Especially here.” He leaned in and kissed him, not rushed, just gentle. Kyle kissed back. Benson didn’t press further. He’d learned the rhythm Kyle needed—slow, careful, warm. After they pulled apart, Kyle stayed close, forehead resting against Benson’s.
Benson let himself look at him for a long time. Kyle’s hair was messy; his eyes were tired but bright. “I like all of you,” Benson said quietly. “Not just when things feel easy. I like you when you’re quiet, when you need space, when you’re figuring stuff out. That’s all part of you, and I care about all of it.”
Kyle blinked at him, eyes glinting with something soft and startled. “Why’re you being so nice?” he asked, half teasing, half not.
Benson smiled, heart thudding in that familiar way it always did when Kyle let down one of his walls. “Because I want you to feel safe with me,” he said. “And because it’s true.”
There was another kiss, slower this time, Kyle’s hand moving to Benson’s cheek. He let it happen, didn’t rush. Just kissed him back like he’d been waiting a long time to do it right.
He didn’t want Kyle to second-guess him. Didn’t want his words to feel loaded or too big. He held back, letting the quiet do its job.
