Chapter Fourteen
Benson
New Mexico
Benson woke to the sharp buzz of his phone on the nightstand, sunlight barely warming the edges of the curtains. He squinted at the screen—Dad. For a second, he thought about letting it go to voicemail. Should’ve. But he swiped anyway.
“Morning,” Benson said.
“You need to come home for Christmas,” his father’s voice came through, all command and no warmth. That was how his father was, and he would never change. How his mother stayed with him was beyond Benson’s comprehension.
He sat up, massaging the tense muscles at the back of his neck. “Can’t. I’m headed west. California’s the goal.”
“You’re not thinking about the company. Michigan is where you belong.”
He stared at the bland hotel wall. “Not sure I want to come back and work for the family business, Dad.”
There was a pause—measured, disappointed. “The company has to make money, Benson. Not lose it. Like Logan says you’ve been doing.”
Benson snorted, the kind of sound that could’ve been a laugh if it had had any humor in it. “I’m not gonna be part of anything that kicks people while they’re already down. Raising rents fifty percent on folks barely scraping by? No, not doing it.”
“That’s business,” his father shot back.
“That’s greed. And I’m out if that’s the direction.” He leaned forward on the bed, elbows on his knees. “I’ve got nothing else to say about it.”
“You need to return,” his father pressed, and then, as if pulling an ace from his sleeve, added, “your mother has been ill since you left.”
The words landed heavy but in a way Benson recognized—more hook than truth. He shut his eyes for a beat, jaw tight.
“If you insist on raising the rents,” Benson said evenly, “then you and Logan can buy out my share.”
“Benson—”
He didn’t let the protest finish and abruptly ended the call.
The silence in the room afterward was loud enough to feel. Outside, New Mexico’s morning sun was already climbing, and Arizona was waiting. When they were both dressed, they checked out of the motel.
Benson gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles pale against the worn leather. The truck hummed beneath them, tires eating up the miles of highway. Arizona was still a long way off, but the air already felt lighter just being away from home.
Kyle sat curled in the passenger seat, hoodie pulled tight around his face, legs tucked up like they were still half-asleep. Benson reached over, fingers brushing the curve of Kyle’s knee, grounding himself in the warmth there.
“I hung up on him,” Benson said finally, voice low but edged with something raw. “My father called. Said I needed to be home for Christmas. Said the company needed me.”
Kyle blinked slowly, turning toward him. “You okay?”
“No,” Benson admitted. “I’m pissed. I haven’t felt this kind of anger in a long time. He gave us the company—me and my brother—and still acts like it’s his. Like we’re just holding it for him until he decides to take it back.”
Kyle reached out, his hand resting on Benson’s thigh. “You’ve been carrying that for a while.”
“Yeah.” Benson exhaled hard through his nose. “I’m tired of my father. And Logan. Tired of the company. Hell, maybe I’m tired of Michigan. But I don’t know if I can leave. I love my home. The lake. The quiet. It’s the only place that ever felt like mine.”
Kyle didn’t say anything right away. Just watched him with that soft, steady gaze that always made Benson feel seen. Benson glanced over, then reached for Kyle’s hand, lacing his fingers together.
“But it wouldn’t be the same anymore,” he said. “Not without you there. I don’t want to wake up without you beside me. My home—it’s beautiful, but it would be hollow without you.”
Kyle’s eyes shimmered when Benson leaned over at the next red light, pressing a kiss to his temple, then his cheek, then finally his lips. It was slow and sure, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that moment.
“I want to build something with you,” Benson murmured against Kyle’s mouth.
Kyle smiled, brushing Benson’s jaw. “Then let’s figure it out. Arizona first. Kids’ hospital.”
Benson chuckled, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “You and me.”
Kyle nodded. “Me and you.”
“But first, I have a little surprise for you after breakfast.”
“Really?”
“Yes, we’ll have a little talk about something before we go to the surprise.
” Benson parked the truck at a rest stop restaurant.
It smelled like bacon grease and coffee, and Benson kind of loved it.
It was one of those places with cracked vinyl booths and faded photos of celebrities who probably never ate there.
He slid into a booth by the window, the sun already blazing outside, and Kyle dropped into the seat across from him, looking like he hadn’t slept.
They ordered—pancakes for Benson, scrambled eggs and toast for Kyle—and sat in that weird silence that meant something was coming. Benson stirred his coffee, watching Kyle pick at the corner of his napkin.
“Tell me why you stole money from your boss?” Benson asked, voice low.
Kyle sighed, eyes flicking up. “I knew it was wrong.”
Benson leaned back. “Tell me why you stole money from Greco when you knew that was wrong?”
Kyle hesitated, then said, “He didn’t pay me for the week.”
Benson blinked. “How much did you take?”
“Four thousand dollars.” Kyle’s face paled.
“Is that how much you earn in one week?”
“No.”
“So, you didn’t just take your salary, did you?”
“No. I panicked when I saw all that money in his drawer. Took it all.”
Benson didn’t say anything right away. The server dropped off their plates, and Kyle muttered a thanks before pushing his eggs around with a fork.
“I feel bad about it now,” Kyle said. “I do. But I needed it. I was trying to get out of the city.”
Benson took a bite of pancake and chewed slowly. “I get needing to leave. I do. But stealing? That’s not the way.”
Kyle looked up, defensive. “He screwed me over.”
“Maybe,” Benson said. “But now his guys are threatening you. That’s not nothing.”
Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “If I give it back, I’ve got nothing.”
Benson wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned forward. “Then I’ll help you. I’ll cover you till you get a job. Return the money, clean slate. No more looking over your shoulder.”
Kyle stared at him, eyes wide. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah,” Benson said. “Because I believe in you. But you’ve gotta do the right thing first. And because I’m your Daddy Benson.”
Kyle nodded slowly, like the weight was finally shifting. “Okay. I’ll give it back.”
Benson smiled, nudging Kyle’s plate toward him. “Good. Now eat your damn eggs. You’re gonna need the energy.”
Back in the truck after their breakfast, he parked in a field of hot air balloons. “Are we going to ride in one of those balloons?”
“Yes, you okay with that?”
“I always wanted to.”
The balloon was massive—striped in warm reds and oranges, like it had been stitched together from desert sunsets.
Benson watched the crew fire up the burner, the flame roaring into the belly of the balloon, and felt the heat brush his face.
The basket creaked as they climbed in, just big enough for the two of them and the pilot, who gave them a grin and a thumbs-up before pulling the cord again.
They lifted slowly, like the earth was reluctant to let them go.
New Mexico stretched out below them in layers—rust-colored mesas, winding rivers that looked like silver threads, and clusters of adobe homes nestled into the land like they’d grown there.
The morning light was soft and golden, casting long shadows across the desert.
Benson leaned over the edge, wind tugging at his jacket, and let out a quiet laugh.
“This is insane,” he said, glancing at Kyle. “You ever think we’d be floating over the desert in a giant fire-powered balloon?”
Kyle grinned, his cheeks pink from the cold. “I didn’t even think I’d be awake this early.”
Benson stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Kyle’s waist. “Worth it, though.”
Kyle nodded, eyes scanning the horizon. “It’s beautiful. Peaceful.”
“Yeah,” Benson said. “It’s like the world’s holding its breath.”
They stood like that for a while, just watching the land drift beneath them. A hawk soared nearby, wings stretched wide, and Benson felt something loosen in his chest. He turned to Kyle, brushing a strand of hair from his face, fingers lingering at his jaw.
“I want you with me. Not just in the easy moments. In the messy ones too. When I’m tired. When I’m pissed off at my dad. When I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Benson said.
Kyle leaned into his touch. “I know. I love being with you even when you’re grumpy.”
Benson laughed, then kissed him—slow and warm, the kind of kiss that made the world tilt a little. The balloon drifted higher, the desert falling away beneath them, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the sky.
“I could stay up here forever,” Benson said, forehead resting against Kyle’s.
Kyle smiled. “Let’s not come down until we have to.”
And Benson thought, yeah. That sounded just about perfect.
After their ride, Benson stopped at the little post office. He wrote a check out to Mr. Greco and mailed it. When they returned to the truck, Kyle handed Benson the four thousand dollars in his pocket.
“Keep two hundred on you in case of an emergency.” He counted it out and handed it to Kyle.
“Thanks for showing me the right way to do things,” Kyle said.
“That’s why I’m the daddy.”
And with that, Benson hit the gas again, the road stretching wide and open ahead of them.