Page 49 of Benson
Instead, he opened the notes app and typed.
Daddy Benson
Tonight was wild. I danced in velvet shorts and a Santa hat and somehow didn’t trip over my own feet. The crowd loved it. I smiled so much that my face hurt. Juan—one of the dancers—took me under his wing. He’s kind. He reminds me of you in that way.
He paused, thumb hovering over the screen.
But when I got home, it hit me. I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to hear your voice; hear you say you were proud of me. I wanted to ask how the lake looked tonight, was it snowing over there, and if you sat on the porch and thought about me.
I miss you. I miss the way you made silence feel safe. I miss the way you looked at me like I was already home.
He stared at the words, heart aching in the quiet.
I don’t know whether I made the right choice for us. I just know I wasn’t ready. And I hate my choice hurt you.
Love and Kisses, Kyle
He added several red heart emojis.
He didn’t send it. Just saved it, closed the app, and set the phone face down on the coffee table.
Outside, the city kept moving. Inside, Kyle curled up on the couch, and let himself miss Daddy Benson without pretending it didn’t matter. After a while, he went to the bedroom and inhaled Daddy Benson’s lingering cologne.
After his shower, Kyle sat on the edge of his bed, the cool air raising goosebumps on his skin. His costume from the club lay crumpled in the corner, glitter still clinging to the fabric. But the rush of the night had faded, leaving only the dead silence and the ache.
He reached for the teddy bear on his nightstand; the one Daddy Benson had given him on their trip to California. He remembered it had been wrapped in blue with silver stars. A teddy bear dressed in soft blue overalls and a matching knit hat. Its little stitched eyes looked up at him like it understood everything.
Daddy Benson had said it reminded him of Kyle—warm, a little stubborn, and always needing to be held. Kyle had laughed then, but now, holding it close to his chest, the memory felt like a bruise.
He lay back against the pillow; the bear tucked under his arm, and let the flashback take him.
The last night together they’d slept in separate rooms. Kyle couldn’t go to Daddy Benson because he’d never asked him tosleep with him. He’d shut the bedroom door. That pretty much deterred Kyle.
It had been early morning when they said goodbye. The ocean outside the condo was still, the sky pale with the first hint of dawn. Daddy Benson had made coffee, but neither of them drank it. Daddy Benson had stood by the door with his bag in hand; Kyle’s heart had been pounding, his throat tight. They just stood there, staring at each other, as if the silence might change something.
“I’m not ready to leave,” Kyle had whispered.
Daddy Benson didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him—really looked. Like he was memorizing every detail.
“I love you, Kyle, and always will. But I need to be in Michigan. I thought I could stay here with you, but I need to make sure people don’t become homeless because I wasn’t there. That’s what would happen if I stayed here.” His voice trembled, close to tears.
Kyle had wanted to beg. The words had pressed against his lips, desperate and raw.Please don’t leave me. But he hadn’t said them. He’d swallowed them down; afraid they’d sound weak. Afraid Daddy Benson would say no.
Instead, Daddy Benson had stepped forward and kissed him—slow, steady, like he was giving Kyle something to carry.
“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Daddy Benson said, voice cracking. “Leaving you here. Walking away when all I want is for you to get on that plane with me and then build something with you.”
Kyle had nodded, but it felt like he was breaking into pieces. All he could say was thank you.
Now, in the quiet of his condo, Kyle curled around the teddy bear and let the tears come—not loud, not dramatic, just soft and steady. He missed Daddy Benson. Missed the way hemade everything feel grounded. Missed the way goodbye had felt like a choice neither of them wanted to make.
He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready. But tonight, he wished he had been. The night was quiet, the kind of quiet that made Kyle feel like the world had paused just long enough for him to catch his breath. After a long shift, sleep had refused to come. His thoughts were restless, tangled in the usual knots of work and the ache of something he couldn’t quite name. So he slipped on his hoodie, grabbed his keys, and walked along the beach.
The sand was cool beneath his new sandals; the ocean stretched out like a dark canvas brushed with silver. Moonlight danced on the waves, soft and flickering, like the sea was trying to whisper something only the night could understand. Kyle strolled, hands in his pockets, letting the rhythm of the tide settle the noise in his head. The salt air, the hush of the water, the distant cry of gulls—it all felt like balm.
Then he saw her.
She sat curled into herself, knees drawn up, her face buried in her arms. Her shoulders trembled. Kyle hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but something about the way she looked—so small against the vastness of the ocean—pulled him forward.
