Page 6 of Benson
Kyle gave a small smile. “I hope so.”
They ordered burgers and fries, and once the waitress disappeared again, Benson leaned back in the booth, studying him. Not in a creepy way, just curious. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle without forcing the pieces.
“So,” Benson said, “is everything you own in your backpack?”
Kyle shook his head. “Nope. Just figured I’d take what I could carry. Warmer weather, maybe. Start over.”
Benson nodded slowly. “That’s brave.”
Kyle snorted. “Or stupid.”
“Sometimes they’re the same thing.”
That made Kyle smile again. He liked how Benson talked—like he wasn’t trying to fix anything, just…understand.
“You ever been scared to ask someone something?” Kyle asked suddenly, surprising even himself.
Benson’s brow arched. “Sure. Plenty of times.”
Kyle hesitated, fingers tapping the side of his mug. “Like…scared they’ll think you’re weird? Or that you’re reading things wrong?”
Benson’s gaze softened. “Yeah. Especially when it’s something that matters.”
Kyle looked down at the table. “You heard what I did for work and probably worked out I’m gay, but seem OK with it.”
There was a pause. Not long, but long enough for Kyle’s heart to start racing.
“I am OK with it,” Benson said quietly. “Because I am too.”
Kyle looked up, and their eyes met. There was no judgment in Benson’s face. Just honesty. And something else that made Kyle’s chest ache in a good way.
“Okay,” Kyle whispered. “Cool.”
“Cool,” Benson said with a warm smile and nod.
Their food arrived, and the moment passed, but something had shifted. The air between them felt different, much lighter. Kyle took a bite of his burger and let out a soft groan.
“Oh, my god. This is amazing.”
Benson laughed. “Told you. Nothing heals the soul like diner food.”
Kyle grinned, grease on his fingers, warmth in his chest. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was running. He felt like just maybe he was heading somewhere worth going.
Chapter Four
Benson
Ohio
Benson glanced over at the young man curled up in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under the other, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knee like he had music playing in his head. Kyle. Just a backpack and a vague plan to get to California. Benson couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life led someoneto hitch a ride out of the city in the middle of a snowstorm like that.
He didn’t ask right away. They’d been driving for a couple of hours, the highway stretching out like a long sigh beneath the tires, and Kyle had been content watching the scenery blur past. But curiosity had a way of creeping in.
“So,” Benson said, keeping his voice easy, “you got any family anywhere? Or just chasing the sunshine?”
Kyle smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah. No family anywhere, really.” Kyle’s voice hardened, a subtle shift in tone as he leaned against the window, his gaze distant and fixed on something beyond Benson.
Benson raised an eyebrow. “None?”
