Chapter Two
Benson
New York City
The snow came down in thick, lazy flakes, blurring the edges of the highway like someone had smudged the world with a cold, white thumb.
Benson had the heat cranked and one hand on the wheel, the other nursing a lukewarm gas station coffee.
The radio was just static and he had long given up trying to find a signal.
He didn’t mind the silence. Hauling toys to Los Angeles in a bright red truck was better than the icy drama of his Michigan family during the Christmas holidays.
He almost didn’t see the frozen hitchhiker at first, his breath misting in the frigid air, barely visible against the falling snow.
Just a shape on the shoulder, bundled in a too-thin jacket, thumb out like he believed someone would actually stop in this mess.
Benson slowed, more out of instinct than decision.
The truck rumbled to a halt a few feet ahead of the hitchhiker and he lowered the passenger side window a few inches, enough to communicate.
The snow-covered hitchhiker jogged up, breath puffing in the cold. He leaned toward the window, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened to him all day. “You serious?”
Benson shrugged. “Door’s unlocked.” He manually switched the cab light on to see the young man better. He had no idea his age, but he sounded young.
The hitchhiker yanked it open and climbed in, stomping snow off his boots. “Man, I thought I was going to freeze out there. You’re a lifesaver.”
Benson said nothing as he watched the hitchhiker push back his navy hoodie.
The poor guy looked like he’d been through something—his clothes were damp, and there was a tiredness in the way he moved that tugged at Benson’s chest. Still, there was no denying how striking he was.
Tousled, wavy brown hair fell over his forehead in a way that looked almost deliberate, like he’d just stepped out of a photograph.
His sharp, ice-blue eyes caught the overhead light and held it, framed by dark brows that gave him a kind of quiet intensity.
There was a flush on his pale cheeks, maybe from the cold, and a scatter of freckles across his nose that made him look younger than he probably was.
Benson felt a flicker of something he didn’t want to name, but maybe curiosity.
Or interest. He cleared his throat, trying to shake it off, and eased the truck back onto the road.
“I’m Kyle, by the way,” he said, peeling off his wet gloves. “Appreciate the ride. Where you headed?”
“West,” Benson said.
Kyle laughed. “Mysterious. I like it. I’m going to California. Got a cousin out there with a couch. Figured I’d try something new, you know?”
Benson nodded, eyes on the road. “Sounds interesting.”
“You from around here?”
“No. And my name is Benson.”
“I’m from the city. Things didn’t work out for me, so I thought it was a good time to start my dream.”
“Dreams are great, but do people ever accomplish their goals?”
Kyle whistled. “Of course they do. All this snow and open road. You on some kind of road trip?”
“Something like that.”
Kyle didn’t seem to mind the lack of detail. He talked like someone who had had no one to talk to in a while.
Benson didn’t interrupt. He liked the sound of someone else’s life for a change. It made the miles go faster.
“You ever been to California?” Kyle asked after a while.
Benson nodded. “Yes.”
“I can’t wait. Sun, beaches, weird people. It’s got a vibe.”
Benson smirked. “That so?”
“Totally. I mean, I’ve never been, but that’s what everyone says.”
Kyle grinned again, and Benson almost smiled back. Almost.
The snow kept falling, thick and steady, but the road didn’t feel quite so lonely anymore.
The cab of the big red truck was warm, filled with the scent of pine-scented air freshener and the faint sweetness of peppermint from a half-eaten candy cane stuck in the cupholder.
Behind them, the truck bed was packed tight with Christmas presents wrapped in shiny paper and bows, all headed from New York to California and stops in between.
But Benson barely noticed the cargo now.
His eyes kept drifting to the kid beside him.
Kyle sat curled up in the passenger seat, the hoodie pulled halfway over his head, fingers fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sleeve.
He looked too young to be out here alone in a storm and way too pretty for his own good.
That tousled brown hair, those sharp blue eyes, the way his voice had trembled just a little when he’d asked for a ride.
Benson felt something twist in his chest. He didn’t know what Kyle’s story was yet, but he already knew he wanted to keep him safe.
“So,” Benson said, keeping his tone light as he steered around a bend, “what’s the real reason you decided to hitchhike in the middle of a damn blizzard?”
Kyle hesitated, then glanced out the window like he was trying to find the words in the snow. “Something bad happened at my job. I thought I’d better leave.”
Benson’s jaw tightened. “Did someone hurt you?”
“Well…sort of. I mean, they wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do.”
That protective instinct flared up hard. Benson kept his eyes on the road, but his voice softened. “You going to keep me guessing, or are you going to tell me what kind of job it was?”
Kyle gave a nervous laugh. “I danced at a club in the city. Small stage. And a pole in the middle. I actually liked that part. It made me feel…confident, I guess. The crowd was always good to me.”
Benson nodded slowly. “What kind of club are we talking? Like, people drink and dance, then watch the show?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
“And the people who came in…what were they like?”
“All kinds. Business guys, tourists, couples sometimes. It wasn’t shady or anything. Not at first.”
Benson glanced over at him. Kyle’s cheeks were flushed, maybe from the heat, maybe from embarrassment. “Was the pay decent?”
“Yeah. Good pay. Great tips too.”
“So what happened?” Benson asked gently. “What made you run off into a snowstorm?”
Kyle’s fingers stilled. He looked down at his lap, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid to tell you.”
“Hey,” Benson said, reaching over to turn down the heater fan so he could hear better. “I’m not going to judge you. And I’m sure as hell not kicking you out in the cold.”
Kyle looked at him, eyes wide and uncertain. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Kyle took a breath. “They wanted me to start entertaining men in a private room. Not dancing—more than that. I said no. So the boss fired me. He got real angry. I got scared, so I left. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Benson’s hands tightened on the wheel. He said nothing for a moment, afraid his voice might come out too sharp. He was angry—furious, actually, but not at Kyle. At whoever had tried to use him like that. At the fact that Kyle had been left out in the cold, literally and figuratively.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” he said finally, voice low and steady. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”
Kyle blinked fast, like he wasn’t used to hearing that.
“You’re safe now,” Benson added. “Long as you’re in this truck, no one’s going to hurt you. Got it?”
Kyle nodded slowly. “Thanks. I didn’t think anyone would care.”
Benson gave a small smile. “Well, I do. And I’ve got a whole truck full of Christmas cheer to prove it.”
That got a tiny laugh out of Kyle, and Benson felt something ease in his chest. He wondered if Kyle was gay, but by his job it sounded like it.
He needed a Daddy for sure. Fear choked the young man; lost and without a solid plan, Benson saw the cold grip of panic on his face.
Maybe this trip wasn’t just about delivering presents after all.
He couldn’t explain it but he wanted to remove all Kyle’s fear.
He was adorable and needed the guidance Benson could give.