Chapter Nineteen
Kyle
Newport Beach, California
Kyle had spent the afternoon weaving through crowded shops with Daddy Benson, dodging glittery displays and overzealous carolers while each sneakily trying to buy gifts without the other noticing.
It was chaotic and a little ridiculous, but also kind of perfect.
By the time they were done, their arms were full of bags and their cheeks hurt from laughing.
Kyle was ready to crash, but Daddy Benson had other plans.
The condo Daddy Benson rented was perched right over Newport Beach, with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened up to a view so stunning it made Kyle stop mid-step.
The ocean stretched out like a silver-blue blanket, waves rolling in slow and steady beneath a sky streaked with orange and pink.
The place itself was sleek but cozy—warm wood floors, soft lighting, and a fireplace flickering in the corner like it was trying to flirt.
But what really got Kyle was the bare Christmas tree standing in the living room surrounded by boxes of decorations like it was waiting for them.
Kyle turned to Daddy Benson, eyebrows raised. “Did you plan this?”
Daddy Benson just grinned and shrugged like it was no big deal, but Kyle could see the sparkle in his eyes. “Figured we could make our own kind of Christmas.”
The stereo kicked on with some traditional Christmas music, smooth and nostalgic, and Kyle felt something in his chest loosen.
They opened the boxes and pulled out ornaments—some classic glass balls, some weird ones shaped like tacos and cute miniature houses, and one that looked suspiciously like a tiny surfboard.
Kyle held it up and smirked. “Is this for me or you?”
“For both of us,” Daddy Benson said, taking it and hanging it front and center.
They moved slowly, passing ornaments back and forth, stringing lights that blinked like lazy fireflies.
Kyle kept stealing glances at Daddy Benson, who looked annoyingly good in soft lamplight and a hoodie.
At one point, Kyle reached up to adjust a crooked star and felt Daddy Benson’s hand settle lightly on his waist, steadying him.
“You know,” Daddy Benson said, “I don’t really care what’s under the tree tomorrow.”
Kyle looked down at him, heart thudding a little harder than it should. “No?”
“Nah. I already got what I wanted.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the grin tugging at his mouth. “Oh really.”
“I only want you.” Daddy Benson drew him in, and their lips met in a soft kiss.
Daddy Benson made them hot chocolate in the kitchen and carried them to the living room.
They finished decorating with mugs of hot chocolate in hand, the tree glowing like it had been waiting for them all year.
Outside, the waves kept rolling in, steady and soft, and inside, Kyle felt something settle, something warm and quiet and real.
They put their wrapped presents under the tree.
Daddy Benson’s phone was ringing, so he went to the kitchen, leaving Kyle to the silence of the living room. It seemed like a business call, but he heard Benson shouting at whoever he was talking to. Kyle worried that their Christmas might be spoiled.
Kyle sat curled into the corner of the couch, hands wrapped around his mug of hot chocolate that had long since stopped steaming. The living room was quiet except for the distant clink of Daddy Benson’s voice drifting from the kitchen.
He hadn’t meant to listen, but the words carried.
“—no, it’s all or nothing. I won’t split it.”
He paused.
“I know what I said. But things have changed.”
Kyle’s grip tightened around the mug. The tone was sharp, decisive—Daddy Benson’s voice had a kind of edge he rarely used around him. It sounded like business, but Kyle couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that. Something important. Something final.
His stomach twisted. He didn’t know who Daddy Benson was talking to, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.
Was it someone from his past? Someone who could pull him away, make him leave again?
Kyle’s mind spun with worst-case scenarios—deals gone wrong, old lovers resurfacing, a life Daddy Benson hadn’t told him about waiting to reclaim him.
He felt the panic rise, quiet but relentless.
His chest tightened, and his hands began to shake.
The hot chocolate sloshed slightly, unnoticed.
He didn’t want to lose this—whatever this was between them.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe, and it was his.
Daddy Benson had made him feel wanted, rooted.
And now, with just a few clipped words in the next room, it felt like that ground was shifting.
When Daddy Benson finally returned, his expression was calm, but something in the air had changed. Kyle couldn’t name it—just a subtle shift in energy, like a door had closed somewhere behind them.
Daddy Benson smiled, soft and tired. “Want to take a walk on the beach without our shoes?”
Kyle nodded, too full of emotion to speak.
He set the mug down and stood, heart still thudding.
He didn’t know what the call had meant, or what tomorrow would bring.
But for now, he would walk beside Daddy Benson, let the salt air clear his head, and hope that whatever had shifted between them wasn’t something that would break, or at least he hoped not.
He couldn’t pinpoint it but it made him nervous.
Daddy Benson carried a large towel and held his hand as they left.
The beach was quiet, the kind of quiet that made Kyle feel like the world had paused just for them.
Daddy Benson had laid out the towel on the sand, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, toes buried in the cool grains, watching the tide roll in and out like it had nowhere else to be.
The sun was low, casting a soft amber over Daddy Benson’s face, and Kyle couldn’t help but think he looked like something out of a memory he hadn’t lived yet.
They sat close on the towel, the ocean stretching out in front of them like a quiet witness.
The breeze tugged at Kyle’s hair, and Daddy Benson reached over, brushing a strand from his forehead with the back of his fingers.
“You always look like you’re thinking about something important,” Daddy Benson said softly.
Kyle smiled, eyes still on the waves. “I am. You.”
Daddy Benson let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came from somewhere warm. “That’s dangerous,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for their shoulders to touch. “I’ve been thinking about you too. Every day. Even when I try not to.”
Kyle turned toward him, their faces inches apart. “Why would you try not to?”
“Because you make me want things I didn’t think I deserved,” Daddy Benson said. His voice was low, steady, like he was saying something sacred.
Kyle reached out, his hand resting lightly on Daddy Benson’s knee. “You do deserve them. All of it.”
Daddy Benson looked at him for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed him—slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the shape of Kyle’s mouth. Kyle kissed back, fingers curling into the fabric of Daddy Benson’s shirt, grounding himself in the moment.
When they pulled apart, Daddy Benson rested his forehead against Kyle’s. “I don’t want to rush you,” he whispered. “But I want you with me. Not just here. Everywhere.”
Kyle’s heart thudded in his chest, steady and sure. “This feels like everything else disappeared,” he said. “Like it’s just you and me.”
“It is,” Daddy Benson said. “Right now, it is.”
Kyle closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves and Daddy Benson’s breath fill the space between them. He didn’t need to say anything more. Not yet. The moment was enough.
Then Daddy Benson shifted, brushing sand off his jeans, and said, “My brother called.”