Chapter 12
Milo
“Dude, what the hell is your problem today?” I asked, sitting at our little table and opening my laptop.
Xavier glared at me, eyes cold enough to freeze gasoline. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been stomping around like someone pissed in your cereal.”
I tried again. “Do you want to film something for our channel?” “Drop it,” he snapped.
“I’m not in the mood for your golden retriever optimism.
” I bit back my response, frustration simmering under my skin because he didn’t know about our recent explosive growth.
We had over 100k followers on several platforms, and the revenue was growing enough to help with bills, especially with the modest deal I’d signed with Honeybee Books.
Xavier had always been moody, and he’d been swinging between moments of surprising tenderness with June and the dark, bitter cynicism that pushed everyone away.
The rumble of an approaching car made us both look up. We rarely got visitors at the barndominium. Through the dirty windows, I glimpsed a sleek blue electric SUV—June’s Subaru.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Xavier muttered, but I caught the way his shoulders straightened, the way he quickly smoothed his hair.
The knock came a moment later—hesitant, three gentle raps. I opened the door to find June standing there, looking pretty and put-together in a neat blouse and slacks, her hair twisted up with a pen stuck through it.
“Hey,” she said, pushing up her glasses with that nervous gesture I’d come to adore. “Sorry to drop by like this.”
“It’s no problem,” I said, stepping back to let her in. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” She tilted her head, peeking inside. “Hi Xavier.”
Xavier didn’t turn around. “What the hell are you doing here?”
June blinked, looking a little startled. “I, um, Milo left his wallet on my coffee table last night. I thought I’d bring it by on my way home from work.” She held up the brown leather wallet I hadn’t realized was missing.
“You could’ve texted,” Xavier said, still not looking at her.
“I had a meeting in Denver, so I was on the highway. I looked up the address on your driver’s license when I realized I didn’t know where you lived, even though we’ve been...” She trailed off, a blush rising on her cheeks.
“Even though we’ve been fucking for weeks?” Xavier supplied.
June, bless her, didn’t seem bothered by his crudeness. Her eyes were darting around the barndominium, taking in every detail with that analytical gaze I’d come to recognize. “This is really cool,” she said, moving deeper into the space. “Did you convert this yourselves?”
“It’s a piece of shit,” Xavier muttered.
“No, it’s not,” June countered. “Are you grumpy because you were fired?”
I blinked, whirling to face Xavier, who had dropped his face into his hands. “From the Rusted Spur? When?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t—” I cut myself off, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “That’s half our rent money, X.”
“Don’t be mad. He was trying to help me and didn’t realize the time,” June said absently, approaching one of our project bikes—an old Honda we’d been slowly restoring. “I love the way this place shows your passion. Everything else is secondary to the bikes, isn’t it?”
“We were living in apartments and never had a garage, so when my cousin said we could rent his pole barn for cheap… we went for it.”
“It’s the perfect solution. I can’t imagine leaving your bikes out in some apartment parking lot.” She shuddered. “And here, everything has a function. I like it.” She ran her fingers along the frame of the bike. “How long have you been working on this one?”
“Six months,” I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “Engine’s completely rebuilt. Just waiting on some parts for the electrical system.”
June nodded, then hesitated, her fingers drumming against the bike frame.
“What is it?” I asked. “You look like you’re overthinking something.”
She laughed, soft and genuine. “Isn’t that how I look most of the time? But yes, I do have something to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m a little worried you’ll think I’m trying to be your meddling girlfriend, not that I assume I’m your girlfriend or something—”
Her voice broke on the word “girlfriend,” and something in my chest constricted. The more time we spent together, the more I wanted her to be our girlfriend, wanted us to be something real and permanent, not just occasional hookups and mind-blowing sex.
“My company keeps asking for me to ask for your help.”
“Your help?”
“Yes. Heleonix wants test riders for the redesigned Project Helios, and they’re digging deeper into local bike culture. Since you guys are Instagram famous now—”
“You told them about us?” Xavier snapped.
“She’s in a few videos. If they looked at our profile, they’d make the connection.”
“Right. So they know I knew you, and they want you to do a series of features. They’d start with test rides and feedback.
Then, when we’re closer to launch, some teaser and hype content.
Marketing wants to document rider involvement in the redesign process to combat the negative rumors from the first test runs. They’re willing to pay.”
My eyebrows shot up. “How much?”
June named a jaw-dropping figure. It would cover all our monthly bills, with enough left over to buy parts for at least two of our project bikes. I wondered if it was a normal amount to be paid for things like this. June certainly didn’t seem moved by the size of the offer.
“I don’t need your charity,” Xavier finally spoke, his voice hard.
“It’s not charity,” June said. “My boss suggested it, not me. Our engineering team follows your channels. You’re the biggest local influencers by far now. They were thrilled when they found out I knew you.”
Xavier scoffed, but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
“I won’t pressure you, it’s your channel,” June said, setting a form down on the workbench.
“You decide what to feature. But it’s a legitimate opportunity.
Think about it.” She glanced around the barndominium one more time, her expression soft.
“This place is cool. It’s quite homey. Anyway, I should go,” she said, stepping toward the door.
“You guys can discuss the offer and let me know.”
And then she was gone, the door closing behind her, leaving nothing but the scent of her shampoo and the form on the workbench.
I watched Xavier’s face from the corner of my eye, saw the muscle twitching in his jaw as he fought some internal battle I could only guess at.
His pride versus our bank account. His fear of hope versus the chance to do what he loved.
After all these years together, I couldn’t always read what was happening behind his mask of indifference.
“Junie deserves better than the way you treated her. I’m of half a mind to pull you over my lap and spank some sense into you.”
That startled him out of his funk, and he blinked up at me. “Sorry.” He shifted, then adjusted his jeans with a discreet tug.
“Would you like that?” I asked. “My hands on your bare ass, making it sting?”
“Milo,” he huffed. “Save the daddy stuff for when June is with us.”
I sighed, letting him stew in his thoughts. Half of me wanted him to realize he was being an idiot. The other half wanted him to crawl into my lap, offer his ass to me, then realize he was being an idiot.
“She called the barndominium homey,” he said, and I glanced over to find him smiling.
I laughed. “She loves engines and mechanical things. It’d be like June to find a workshop comforting.”
He nodded and looked down at his hands. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Milo, I don’t want charity. From her or her fancy tech company.”
“It’s not charity, you idiot. This company is spending billions on this project and it’s headed in a bad direction. They need riders to get it back on track and squash the rumors. We’re a good fit and we’re local, so we’re a natural choice.”
Xavier snorted, but I had his attention.
“And you don’t need to worry about your job,” I continued, feeling a surge of confidence, “I’ll take care of you.
” “You don’t have to always take care of me, Milo,” he whispered.
“I don’t, but I enjoy it so I will. We’re not too far from making enough to pay the rent with our videos.
You’ll have to work your ass off, and help out instead of pouting, but it’s better than cooking. ”
That got him. His head snapped up, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What?”
“The channel, X. It’s exploding. And you, Helmet Daddy, are the star.”
“If only they knew you were Daddy,” he whispered. Then his cheeks went pink, and his eyes darted to me. “How could we make enough to pay rent?”
“Those bookstore videos led people back through our content. The maintenance tutorials, and the rides we’ve filmed over the last year are pulling in serious views. We just need to put in the work now.”
“Really?” His voice was quiet, skeptical. “From videos of us being idiots on motorcycles?”
“Yep. And this testing gig,” I pressed, warming to my argument, “could build our reputation with other companies. It could mean you never go back to the diner. It could mean quitting my shitty job at the parts shop.”
I hadn’t told him how much I hated that job—how the hours dragged, how my boss micromanaged every interaction, how I worried that one late shipment or one bad customer interaction could mean we wouldn’t make rent. But I could see in his eyes that he knew.
“How do we know it’s not charity?”
“Because a successful person would never call this charity. They’d call it an opportunity. It’s all in the mindset, in the way we twist things in our heads. And it’s time we start thinking like successful people, X.”
He huffed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I echoed, surprised by how quickly he’d given in.
“Fine,” he repeated. “We’ll do it. But if they try to make us look like idiots or if they want us to lie about their bike, we walk. Deal?”