Kyle’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, as if the mountains across the lake were easier to face. “It made me good at leaving,” he said with a dry little laugh. “Didn’t matter where I was—felt like I was already halfway out the door.”
Benson let that sit, feeling the weight of what Kyle had given him. He reached up, cupped the back of Kyle’s neck gently, and guided him forward until their foreheads touched. The boat swayed softly beneath them.
“Yeah, well,” Benson said, leaning forward on his knees, “you’re not halfway out the door with me. I don’t care where we end up after this trip—I already know you’re part of it.”
Kyle’s brow furrowed, like he was trying to read the fine print on a deal that sounded too good. “People say stuff like that…”
“I’m not people.” Benson’s voice carried a wry edge, but it was anchored by something steady. Before Kyle could argue, Benson brushed a quick kiss against his temple—an unspoken anchor. “You’ve survived every bad hand life’s dealt you. That’s grit. That’s worth standing beside.”
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The oars dipped back into the water, slow and unhurried, their knees still pressed together. Around them, the lake stretched out in sunlit blues and greens, the smell of pine and resin threading through the cool air.
Benson rowed toward the far shore, but his mind was still on the words Kyle had shared—on the trust it took to say them aloud. And though Kyle didn’t say it outright, Benson thought maybe the door between them had just cracked open a little wider.
By the time they reached the far shore, the shadows of the pines had stretched long over the water. Benson guided the boat up against the bank, hopped out, and pulled it far enough for Kyle to step down. As Kyle passed, Benson caught his wrist, tugging him into a brief kiss—soft, certain, the kind that felt more like a promise than words.
They didn’t rush on the walk back. The trail curved along the waterline, a meadow swaying under the late afternoon sun. Kyle’s hands stayed in his pockets, but now and then their shoulders brushed. Eventually, Kyle let out a slow breath. “You know…I never pictured myself out here. This kind of quiet.”
Benson grinned sideways at him. “Guess you just needed the right tour guide.”
They reached a low bluff where the view opened up—miles of sky spilling into the lake, mountains standing guard in thedistance. They stopped there, side by side. Benson slid his hand into Kyle’s, their fingers locking easily.
“Whatever else happens,” Benson said, voice steady, “there’s more ahead than what’s behind.” He didn’t say it like a promise—more like a fact.
Kyle didn’t speak, but he leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to Benson’s cheek. It wasn’t an agreement, not yet, but it was something—maybe the first brick in whatever they might build.
They kept walking, boots scuffing the dirt path. Ahead, the truck waited. Behind them, the lake caught the last of the day’s light and held it—like it was keeping something safe for when they were ready to come back.
Chapter Thirteen
Kyle
New Mexico
The hotel was nicer than anything Kyle had stayed in for a long time—soft lighting, thick carpet, a bed big enough for him to actually stretch out. After the long hike, his legs were pleasantly tired. He dropped onto the bed while Daddy Bensondisappeared into the shower, humming some tune under the rush of water.
Kyle pulled out his phone blindly, just checking the time, and froze.
Three new texts lit up the screen, each from a different number. No names. No emojis. Just words that punched straight into his gut.
Unknown caller:We know where you are.
Unknown caller:You’re coming back.
Unknown caller:Mr. Greco wants his money.
His chest tightened. He scrolled back up, staring at them like maybe they’d vanish if he looked long enough. They didn’t. It didn’t matter that the numbers weren’t saved—he knew the kind of people who could make those promises real.
For a second, he wasn’t in the warm hotel anymore—he was back in that office in New York, hearing his boss’s voice, smelling stale cigar smoke. He’d taken that cash thinking it would buy him an escape. Now it felt like it had bought him a target on his back.
He set the phone down, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He reached for the teddy bear Daddy Benson had given him as an early Christmas gift and pulled it close, pressing his face into the worn fabric. It was something solid, and right now he needed that.
The bathroom door opened, steam spilling out with Daddy Benson, hair damp, and a towel around his neck. “Hey—” His voice broke off when he saw Kyle curled on the bed, clutching the bear.
Daddy Benson crossed the room in a few strides and sat beside him. “What’s going on?” His hand was already on Kyle’s shoulder, steady and warm.
Kyle tried to swallow it down, but the words came out rough. “Some guys are after me.” He didn’t look up. “I…I took money from my boss in New York. From his desk. I thought I was getting away clean, but…” He gestured toward the phone like it might explain everything. “Three messages. Different numbers. All saying the same thing—they know where I am. I’m gonna be taken back to face Mr. Greco.”
Daddy Benson didn’t flinch. He just slid his arm around Kyle and pulled him in, chest firm against him. “Hey. Look at me.”
