Kyle froze for a second. “Sam?” His voice cracked a little, then he crossed the room in a few long strides, and they hugged tight—the kind of hug that says I missed you, and I’m glad you’re still breathing.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Sam murmured. “You look good.”
Kyle felt a lump in his throat. “You too. Way better than back then.”
“Thanks,” Sam said. “This place is different. It’s safe.”
Daddy Benson told Kyle he’d handle the gifts. He kept the room lively as Santa handing out gifts by calling their names. Kyle and Sam sat on the edge of the couch and talked about the shelter back in New York, how things had changed, and how Kyle had somehow wound up here in elf gear handing out candy canes.
Seeing Sam reminded Kyle of his past, nothing to brag about, but it was what it was. Sometimes, seeing someone’s familiar face in a room full of strangers removed the pain of separation. The knot of anxiety in his chest loosened a little. There were people who cared. Sam was one of them, then they were separated when Kyle aged out. Poor Sam still had time to do before he aged out.
The couch they shared was lumpy, and the fabric was pilled, but neither Kyle nor Sam seemed to notice. Their knees touched as they leaned in, voices low amid the rustling of gift wrap and Daddy Benson’s booming laughter.
“So…you’re an elf now?” Sam teased, eyeing Kyle’s ridiculous green tights with mock seriousness.
Kyle groaned. “Don’t remind me. Daddy Benson thought it would add to the Christmas spirit.” He threw air quotes and glanced over at Daddy Benson, who was mid-sleigh-bell jig for a kid giggling beneath a blanket.
Sam chuckled. “I’m glad Santa dragged you all the way to Oklahoma.”
“We actually met when I was hitchhiking out of the city. He picked me up, and things started up between us. I’m hoping for us to work out.”
“The way he looks at you says a lot. You did good. Why were you leaving?”
“My boss fired me.”
“Mr. Greco?”
“Yes. It was bad, and I made it worse.”
“What did you do?”
Kyle whispered in Sam’s ear. “Stole money.”
“I doubt he’ll chase you to California for it.”
Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work through the buzz of nerves and nostalgia. “He could find me if he wanted to.”
“He’s too busy unless it was a lot of money.”
“Do you have a phone?” Kyle ignored Sam’s remark.
Sam nodded.
“Let me put my number in it and send myself a message.”
Sam removed his phone from his pocket and handed it to Kyle. He added his number, then he sent a message from Sam’s phone to his.
“I’ll call you for sure,” Sam said as he put his phone away.
“I didn’t think I’d see anyone from New York again. Especially not you.”
Sam’s expression softened. “You were one of the few people who didn’t treat me like a lost cause back then.”
“I didn’t know how not to be one myself,” Kyle whispered. “We were both just surviving.”
Sam nodded, then gave a half-smile. “Still are. But it’s different now. This place…it feels like people see us for more than what we’ve been through.”
Kyle’s chest ached with a mix of hope and guilt. He hadn’t kept in touch. Hadn’t known if Sam had made it out okay. But here he was standing taller and laughing lighter.
