Chapter Twenty-Three
Benson
As soon as Benson stepped off the plane, the Michigan air greeted him with its familiar wintry chill tinged with pine.
His driver waited just beyond the terminal, a silent nod and open door the only welcome Benson needed.
The ride north was long and winding, the kind that gave space for silence to stretch.
He spoke little. He didn’t need to. The ache in his chest had settled in like an old companion.
The gates to his home stood tall and weathered, navy iron against the bright snow on the ground.
Beyond them, the house stood there—four stories of warm wood and deep blue trim, nestled against the curve of Lake Michigan.
The lake itself lay behind the house, its surface glassy and still, broken only by the occasional ripple of wind.
A stretch of sand sprinkled with snow framed the shoreline.
It was beautiful. Not a sound broke the stillness.
The weight of it all was too much to bear. Kyle was the only thing missing.
The driver pulled up slowly, snow crunching beneath the tires. The moment the car stopped, the silence inside him grew louder. He wondered how Kyle was doing alone. And again, his heart ached.
He didn’t move right away. Just sat there, staring at the front steps, the porch swing swaying gently in the breeze. It should’ve felt like home. It used to. But now, everything looked like a sacred scrapbook he couldn’t touch. The lake even felt hollow without Kyle’s laugh echoing through it.
Benson had asked him to come home with him several times. He wanted to beg him to leave and move in, but he feared Kyle would regret leaving the sunny California beaches.
He had pictured them here together, waking up to the sound of water lapping the shore, sharing coffee in the mornings, building something real.
But Kyle wasn’t ready. Newport Beach was still his rhythm—sunlight and surf, and who knows what else he wanted from California.
Michigan felt too far, too tranquil, too much like a commitment he couldn’t make.
Benson understood. He did. But understanding didn’t soften the ache.
He thought about Kyle’s hands, the way they lingered on his face that last morning.
The way his voice cracked when he said, “I just need more time.” Benson had nodded, kissed him once, and walked away before he could beg for something Kyle couldn’t give.
The hardest part was that Kyle didn’t even ask him to reconsider leaving.
He hated leaving on Christmas Day, when they had planned to celebrate together on the beach.
He had to be home because the board was meeting the day after.
His brother made it sound conditional on his being present for the family dinner on Christmas Day.
Now, the emptiness settled in his chest like fog. He missed the way Kyle filled a room, the way he made Benson feel seen, even in silence. He missed the plans they hadn’t made yet, the ones he’d already believed in.
As the driver opened the door, Benson stepped out slowly, the air bitter cold against his skin.
The lake stretched wide behind the house, beautiful and indifferent.
He walked toward the porch, each step heavy with the weight of what wasn’t.
The house waited for him as always, but it wasn’t home anymore. Not tonight.
Inside, the scent of cinnamon and apples wrapped around him before he even saw her.
Della McCoy—his niece, his cook, his anchor—stood in the wide kitchen with her arms already open.
She was twenty-two now, all grown up, with dark hair pulled back in a loose braid and eyes the color of a storm just before it breaks.
She lived in the bungalow behind the home, but she was always there when he needed her. She knew when to show up.
“Uncle Ben,” she whispered, pulling him into a hug that lasted longer than it needed to. He didn’t let go first.
They sat at the kitchen island, the lake stretching out behind the windows like a painting too large to frame. Della poured coffee into thick red Christmas ceramic mugs and slid a warm slice of apple pie in front of him with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
“Thanks, Della. What a delightful surprise!”
“Where’s your new boyfriend?” She asked as if she already knew the answer.
Benson stared outside at the lake. “It’s kind of complicated,” he said. “He wanted to stay in California by the beaches.”
Della didn’t speak right away, but she touched his hand. Her fingers were warm and steady. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you must have cared about him.”
He nodded once. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was full of everything he couldn’t say.
She refilled his coffee and told him about the orange kitten that sits on the back porch every morning.
She made him laugh, just a little. Benson let himself believe—just for a moment—that maybe home with a kitten was enough.
“Della, order me kitten food, a cat bed, and a litter box. I’m going to adopt him.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I hope he doesn’t tear up the house, but he sounds like he needs to be adopted and kept inside so we can love him.”
“What are we going to call him?”
“Rusty.”
“You’re always so kind to animals.”
“I like to take care of people and things, especially when they need my attention. Like you.”
“You’re the best uncle.” She paused. “Please tell me how you met the California guy?”
“He’s a New Yorker. I rented a big, bright red truck in New York through an agency for the orphans.
Once I got there, I had to make phone calls to group homes and shelters on my route to California.
They gave me a list of the kids and what was needed for Christmas and ordered them.
After all that, I had to wrap them and write on the name tags. That took me over a week.”
“You were gone for so long—two weeks. So what about the New Yorker guy?”
“Kyle was hitchhiking in the snow. I picked him up on the side of a highway out of the city. We hit it off. We stayed together until California.”
“Wow! Tell me more about him.”
“Well, he’s your age, twenty-two. He was a dancer in the city. But the important thing is he was raised in group homes and shelters.” He pulled out his phone and rifled through his pictures and showed Della his picture.
“He’s so cute. I can see why you liked him.”
“I more than like him. Keep that to yourself.”
“Why was he hitchhiking in the snow?”
“He got fired from his job because his boss wanted him to do things after work which he didn’t feel comfortable with. So, he just started hitchhiking with California as his destination.”
“I bet you didn’t want to come back.”
“It’s beautiful in California, but my life is here. I was hoping he’d move in, but he wasn’t ready for that big move, or maybe me.”
“I’m so sorry he didn’t come back with you. Grandpa and Grandma didn’t think you were going to return.”
“Why is that?”
“My father said you were pissed about raising rents, and he said you threw things at him in the office.”
“I did. You know we don’t get along at all.
” He shared the same dislike of her father, Logan.
That was one of the reasons he took her in, offering her a home.
She wanted to live in her own place, so he had the bungalow in the back area of his home renovated for her.
He allowed her to decorate it, he footed the bill.
“He said he hoped you didn’t come back, but Grandpa had a huge fight with him and Grandma was crying over it, so he made my dad give you what you wanted.”
Benson grinned, knowing how his family dealt with the two of them always going at it. “What time is dinner?”
“Seven. You have enough time to shower and change, and then we need to go.”