Chapter Twelve
Benson
New Mexico
Benson figured they’d both been staring at asphalt and taillights long enough.
The trip could wait a day or two—hell, the Christmas presents could wait too.
He’d already made the calls, moved the delivery dates around.
No rush. What mattered was getting out of the truck, breathing some fresh air, maybe shaking off the heaviness that had settled between them.
They’d pulled into a sleepy little town in New Mexico, the kind with a single gas station, a diner, and a lake that looked like it belonged in a postcard. Benson killed the engine, glanced over at Kyle.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re going on a hike. Need to talk.”
“It’s cold.”
Benson reached behind and grabbed his winter jacket. “Wear this. Gloves and a beanie are inside the pockets.”
Kyle smiled faintly. “Thanks.”
When Benson helped him into the jacket, his fingers brushed over Kyle’s shoulders—just long enough to feel some of the tension in them.
The trail wasn’t much—just a dirt path weaving through low pines and sagebrush—but it led them to the edge of the lake, where sunlight danced across the ripples.
They walked along the shore, the smell of wet earth and pine mixing with the faint scent of motor oil still clinging to Benson’s jacket.
Neither of them said much at first. The quiet was comfortable, broken only by the sound of their boots on gravel and the occasional cry of a bird overhead.
He knew things between them had to be better for Kyle to relax and trust him.
When they spotted a small rental shack, Benson nodded toward it. “Boats for rent?”
Kyle gave a half-smile, like he wasn’t sure but didn’t hate the idea.
Benson rented the boat from an old man sitting in a chair.
A few minutes later, they were gliding across the water in an old rowboat, the oars creaking in rhythm.
The lake was still except for the ripples they made, the shore a blur of gold grass and weathered rocks.
Benson leaned back, letting the boat drift for a moment. “You’re important to me,” he said, voice steady. “Whatever happens at the end of this trip…it’ll include you. You don’t need to worry about me walking away.” He met Kyle’s eyes so he’d know he meant it.
Kyle looked at him—really looked—and Benson reached out, resting a hand over Kyle’s where it gripped the edge of the boat. Their fingers lingered together.
Kyle stared out over the water for a long moment before speaking, voice quiet but sure.
“There’s something I haven’t told you…about my past.” He took a slow breath, as if pulling the words up from somewhere deep.
“I grew up in group homes and shelters. That’s all I’ve ever known.
No family stories, no baby pictures. Just a name and a birth certificate.
Some of those places were…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.
“Some were abusive. I got into trouble a lot. Ran away more times than I can count.”
With the oars resting in Benson’s hands, the boat rocked gently. Instead of speaking right away, he shifted closer, his knee brushing Kyle’s. He took Kyle’s hand fully in his now, thumb tracing over his knuckles.
“That sounds like hell,” Benson said with no pity in it. Just truth. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
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 the distance. 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.