Chapter 17
Milo
The meeting with the Heleonix marketing team took far too long, and by the time I got back to the test track, Xavier was caught between Diego and Priya, arguing about something.
Even from this distance, I recognized the signs: the tight jaw, the rigid spine, the way he shifted his weight forward like he was ready to either fight or flee.
Diego was grinning, clearly enjoying himself, while Priya was focused on whatever X was saying.
They didn’t look aggressive, so why was he on the defensive?
I supposed X never could tell the difference between intellectual challenge and personal attack.
“The throttle mapping is bullshit,” Xavier’s voice became audible as I approached. “You’ve got this stupid lag built in for safety, but all it does is make the bike feel dead. It’s like asking for permission to go fast.”
Diego nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying! The nanny-state approach alienates experienced riders.”
“But removing the lag creates a jerky response that’s unpredictable in wet conditions,” Priya countered, her eyes bright with the thrill of debate. “What if we mapped different throttle responses for different rider modes?”
Xavier scoffed. “Give riders the raw experience and let them figure it out. Stop trying to program some sanitized version of what you think a bike should feel like.” Xavier was getting riled up.
His body language screamed defensiveness, like he was bracing for the moment they’d dismiss him as another grease monkey from the wrong side of town.
I stepped forward. “Sorry to interrupt. Mind if I steal X for a minute? Need his input on the sizzle reel I’m editing. ”
“Perfect timing,” Priya said, checking her watch. “I need to prep for the board presentation.” She turned to Xavier. “Your input has been invaluable. I’d like to bring you into the advanced mapping sessions next week if you’re available.”
Xavier gave a noncommittal grunt that could have meant anything from “fuck off” to “sounds great.” I placed a hand on his lower back, gentle pressure guiding him away from the engineers.
Once we were out of earshot, walking along the edge of the track, he exploded. “Fucking academics. Think they know everything because they went to some fancy school.”
I stopped walking, turning to face him directly. “That’s not what was happening and you know it.”
“The fuck it wasn’t. They were humoring me.”
“They were debating with you,” I corrected, keeping my voice low and steady. “Like colleagues. Like equals. Diego hasn’t shut up about your throttle feedback since you first rode the prototype. And Priya abandoned a board presentation prep to continue your conversation.”
Xavier’s jaw worked back and forth, his eyes darting away from mine. “They don’t respect what we know. They think because we didn’t go to college—”
“They asked for your opinion because you know things they don’t,” I insisted. “That’s the opposite of disrespect.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Whatever,” he muttered, then turned and stalked toward the exit.
I sighed, watching him go. Every time someone recognized his talent, Xavier found a way to twist it into an attack. It was exhausting, and yet I understood. When your entire life has taught you that nothing good lasts, you learn to reject it before it can reject you.
I jogged after him, following as he pushed through the glass doors and headed for the parking lot. The mountain air hit me like a slap after the climate-controlled interior of the Heleonix facility, fresh and cool despite the summer heat.
Xavier had reached his bike by the time I caught up to him, helmet in hand, the set of his shoulders broadcasting “leave me the fuck alone” in neon letters. I ignored the warning, stepping into his space, close enough that our chests almost touched.
“Xavier.”
He wouldn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on some point over my shoulder. “I need to go.”
Instead of backing off, I moved closer, reaching up to cup the back of his neck.
He stiffened but didn’t pull away. Gently, I pulled his forehead against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
This close, I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the tension that never left his face.
“Talk to me,” I murmured, my thumb stroking the soft skin behind his ear.
He closed his eyes, a shudder running through him. “I need to ride,” he whispered, the words a confession. “I need to...feel something that makes sense.”
I smirked and ran my hands down his back, squeezing and massaging his ass as I pulled his hips against mine. “You want me to fuck your hole? Right here in the parking lot.” “No,” he huffed, then shuddered. “Okay, yes. But first, I need to ride.”
“Okay,” I agreed, holding his gaze. “But nothing reckless. I lead, you follow. If you’re a good boy on the bike, I’ll give you everything you need tonight in Junie’s bed.”
For a moment, I thought he might argue—Xavier never followed anyone—but he nodded, a slight dip of his chin.
“Promise me,” I pressed, needing to hear him say it.
“I promise,” he breathed, the words warming my lips. “You lead.”
I released him, stepping back to retrieve my own helmet. We mounted our bikes in silence, the engines roaring to life with twin growls that echoed off the Heleonix building.
I chose our route carefully—sweeping mountain roads that demanded focus without tempting recklessness, curves that flowed one into another like music.
I let the ride work its magic. Xavier’s wounds ran too deep for quick solutions.
All I could do was offer him this—the freedom of the open road, the certainty of my presence ahead of him, the promise that I wouldn’t lead him anywhere dangerous.
By the time I signaled the turn for Copper Kettle Brewing, the sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the mountains gold and purple against the deepening blue. Xavier pulled up beside me as I parked my bike.
“Better?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward, not quite a smile but close enough. “Better,” he agreed as we dismounted and walked inside.
The Copper Kettle hit us with its familiar wall of noise the moment we stepped through the door—music competing with conversation, glasses clinking against wood, the steady hum of the industrial fans pushing around air that smelled of hops and grilled meat.
Home. My mom waved to us, her small frame weaving through the crowded tables with the efficiency of someone who’d been navigating this space for decades.
Her face lit up the way it always did when she saw me, but I noticed the extra warmth in her smile as it extended to Xavier—the stray she’d been trying to adopt since we were nine years old.
“My boys!” she exclaimed, reaching up to pat Xavier’s cheek before pulling me down for a kiss. “Perfect timing. I just had a booth open up in the back corner.”
She waved to one of her staff as she turned to lead us through the crowded restaurant, nodding at regulars as we passed. She was a waitress when my sister and I were little, cobbling together shifts around the hectic schedule of a single mom, but now she managed the whole damn place.
The corner booth was our favorite—isolated from the chaos, with a view of both the door and the copper brewing tanks that gave the place its name. We slid in, Xavier taking the side that put his back to the wall, an unconscious habit I’d long stopped commenting on.
“The usual?” Mom asked, hands on her hips. “Double bacon for X, mushroom and Swiss for Milo?”
“Sounds perfect,” I said. “Thanks, Mom. I have a check for Lil’s tuition—”
“Milo. How many times do I need to tell you? I’ve got that covered.
” “I want to help.” “My boy, putting others before himself, huh?” she said, elbowing Xavier.
He huffed. “It’s commendable, Milo. But I got a raise and a bonus.
I’m good to cover Lillian’s expenses. You put that extra cash back into your big business.
” “Ma—“ “What? It’s an investment in my future. If you get rich, I get to retire early.” She laughed at her own joke, messing up my hair. “Anyway, food’s on the house. And in exchange, you can tell me all about this girlfriend of yours. The engineer. June, right?”
Xavier’s head snapped up. “You told your mom about June?”
“She’s amazing,” I said, kicking Xavier under the table. “Why wouldn’t I tell Mom? Smart as hell. Beautiful. Funny in this unintentional way.”
Mom’s smile widened. “And she’s dating both of you?”
Xavier choked on his water. I reached over and thumped him on the back, trying to keep my expression neutral. “It’s... complicated.”
“I bet it is,” Mom said with a knowing look that made heat rise to my face. “Food’ll be right up. Don’t go anywhere—I need to check in with scheduling, then I want details.”
As she bustled away, Xavier turned to me, eyes wide. “How the fuck does she know about June?” “I mentioned her once or twice.”
Xavier groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Great. Just great.”
Before I could offer any reassurance, a familiar voice cut through the background noise. “Well, if it isn’t the social media superstars!”
Red slid into the booth beside me without invitation, forcing me to scoot closer to the wall. Vince followed, pulling up a chair at the end of the table.
“Heard you guys are getting paid to ride fancy electric motorcycles now,” Vince said, stealing a fry from the basket another server had just dropped off. “Going corporate.”
Xavier’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “It’s a consulting gig. Testing prototypes.”
Red snorted. “Testing prototypes and getting domesticated by some nerdy engineer chick. Seen the videos, man. You’re practically wearing a collar.”
“Fuck off, Red,” I said, keeping my voice level despite the anger simmering in my gut. “You’re just jealous because Heleonix didn’t want your input.”
“Why would I want to waste my time on electric scooters?” Red scoffed. “Real bikes have engines, not batteries.”
Vince leaned forward, his tattooed forearms flexing as he braced against the table. “Question is, will we see you at the canyon race next weekend? Or has your little engineer girlfriend got you on a short leash these days?”
Xavier’s face hardened into that dangerous blankness I knew too well—the expression that meant he was about to do something stupid.
“We’ve got commitments. Heleonix stuff. Professional obligations,” I said.
“What happened to you two?” Vince asked, his tone shifting from teasing to something closer to genuine confusion. “Especially you, X. You used to be the craziest motherfucker on two wheels. Now you’re playing corporate consultant and boyfriend to some Heights princess?”
“She’s not a princess, and she’s not my girlfriend,” Xavier said.
“Could’ve fooled us,” Red snorted. “Way she was all over you in those videos.”
I saw the exact moment something snapped in Xavier’s eyes. “I’ll be at the race,” he said, the words clipped and cold.
My stomach dropped. “X—”
Before I could argue, my mom reappeared with our burgers. She took one look at the scene—Vince and Red crowding our booth, the tension rolling off Xavier in waves, my own rigid posture—and her expression shifted from friendly to formidable.
“Red Stone, your food is getting cold at your own table,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “And Vince, don’t you have a shop to run?”
Red opened his mouth to protest, but Mom’s raised eyebrow silenced him. “We’re going, Mrs. K,” he said, rising from the booth.
My mom slid into the spot they’d vacated, setting our plates down. “That boy never did know when to shut his mouth,” she muttered, nodding towards Red. “Always stirring up trouble.”
Xavier picked at his fries, avoiding her gaze. “It’s fine.”
“It is not fine,” Mom said, reaching across to tap his hand. “Look at me, young man.”
Xavier raised his eyes to meet hers. The defiance in his expression would have intimidated most people, but Mom had been immune to it since he was a skinny, angry nine-year-old with bruises he refused to explain.
“Don’t let men like that control you,” she said.
Xavier scoffed, pulling his hand away from hers. “I’m not your kid, Mary. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
The words were meant to wound, but my mom rolled her eyes. “Please. You’ve been my boy since the day Milo dragged you home with a split lip and empty eyes. Whether you like it or not.”
Something flickered across Xavier’s face—pain, longing, frustration—before he schooled it back into careful blankness. Under the table, I reached for his hand. He didn’t flinch away. “This engineer girl,” he said. “She’s not going to understand... this. Us. Our world.”
My mom studied him for a long moment, her expression softening. “And what world is that? The one where you ride motorcycles? Work with your hands? Come from families that struggled?”
Xavier shrugged, picking up his burger without answering.
“People aren’t as different as you think they are,” Mom said. “This girl might surprise you if you give her a chance. Most of the walls we see between ourselves and others are ones we build ourselves.”
“Very fucking philosophical,” Xavier muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
My mom chuckled, pushing herself up from the booth. “I’ve had a lot of years to think about these things while I watch stubborn boys make the same mistakes over and over.” She patted his shoulder. “Eat your burger. And think about what you’re really afraid of.”
As she walked away, Xavier stared after her, his expression unreadable. I picked up my own burger, giving him the silence I knew he needed.
“I’m doing the race,” he said.
I sighed. “I’ve never been able to stop you, have I? So I won’t try now. But I will join you.”