4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

PISTON

I lean against my bike with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my leather jacket, staring in the direction Milo should appear from at any minute. Every time I hear the sound of an engine, I jerk my head towards the road, my heart hammering with the fear that Hero or one of the guys will drive by at the exact moment Milo shows up.

I hate that there's an undercurrent of thrill to the fear of getting caught. I shouldn't even be meeting with him now that I know he's Hero's kid. I should have told him ‘no' over text and left it at that.

But then I wouldn't be able to find out how he's doing after everything that happened today. What if he needs a shoulder to lean on tonight? It's not like he knows anyone else around here. I'm looking out for him, which is exactly what Hero would want if he had all the facts.

I groan out loud at the mental gymnastics it's taking to justify this dinner to myself.

It's just a burger. No touching, no flirting, and definitely no kissing.

My lips tingle at the memory of Milo's soft mouth against mine. I squeeze my eyes closed and huff through my nose. I need to get myself under control right fucking now. There's too much at stake for me to follow my dick on this one.

His lanky form and shaggy hair suddenly come into view as he makes his way around the corner towards the parking lot. He's changed his clothes since I saw him earlier and, like last night, he's not wearing a jacket. Milo picks up his pace when he sees me, a lopsided smile forming on his lips as he gets closer. That dimple on his cheek that I noticed last night draws my eye for just a second. He slows to a stop in front of me, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms against the chill in the air that's only gotten worse now the sun is sinking out of sight.

I make a noise in the back of my throat and pull my jacket off without thinking. I drape it over his shoulders, and he doesn't hide his widening smile or the way he pulls it up close to his nose to sniff it.

"It probably smells like leather, sweat, and exhaust." I rumble a laugh.

"Mm." He nods. "Plus a little bit of lavender and something that kind of smells like a campfire." He lets it drop away from his face again. "It smells like you."

The words are a purr that ignite heat in my gut. I shake my head and clear my throat. I was hoping he'd make this easy, but I guess I'm going to have to break his heart a little if I'm going to get the message across that this can't happen.

"Why don't we go inside," I say. At least I can get some food into him and ask how he's feeling before we get into the messy shit.

The smell of beef and onions makes my mouth water as I hold the door open and wave Milo through. This place isn't much to look at, just a greasy, hole in the wall kind of diner, but the burgers are next level. We get a table, and the waitress leaves us with a couple of menus.

He slips my jacket off as soon as he sits down, setting it next to him on his side of the booth. For some reason it annoys me, like I want to insist that he leave the jacket on even though it's not cold inside. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm clearly fucking losing it. I just wish I knew why.

"I have some very good arguments to convince you that there's nothing wrong with us seeing each other, if you're interested in hearing them," Milo says casually as he flips through the sticky menu.

I chuckle. Why doesn't that surprise me? I don't know much about him, but I can already tell he's not easily deterred from going after the things he wants. The fact that I'm a thing he wants stokes the heat in my gut again and tempts me to flip this table out of our way so I can put my hands all over him again. I grip the edge of the table until it bites into my palm hard enough to bring my rational thoughts back to the surface.

"How are you doing after meeting him today?" I ask to change the subject.

He glances up from the menu to look at me. Conflicted emotions dance through his eyes, and he drums his fingers on the table while he puts his thoughts together.

"I don't know. Have you ever built something up so much in your head that when it finally happens you just feel kind of numb? Like it's too much to process or something?" His foot nudges mine under the table and his eyebrows pull together.

I press my foot back against his, giving him the little bit of comfort I can offer without crossing any lines.

"I've felt numb when shit was just too much to process, yeah," I say, ignoring the way my throat tightens at the reminder of my past. "Hero's a good guy. He's going to come around, he just needs to wrap his head around everything."

"I know." Milo absently twirls his finger through one of the longer strands of his hair and lets his eyes wander over the vintage decor covering the walls around us. "He came by the motel when I was on my way out to talk. He wants me to come to the shop again tomorrow so we can go for lunch."

Relief floods me. I let out a breath that ends with a small laugh. I knew he would do the right thing, but I'm glad he got around to it so quickly.

"Good," I say firmly.

"Yeah," he agrees, and for a second, we both trail off, awkwardly avoiding the huge-ass elephant in the room. I am, anyway. Milo already called the elephant out by name and is now just waiting for me to grow the fuck up and do the same. Ironic that the kid is the one willing to dive right into the hard part while I pussyfoot around it.

The waitress comes to take our order, giving me the perfect excuse to avoid the conversation for another couple of minutes. But when she leaves, all that's left is Milo staring at me across the table, waiting for me to say something.

"He's not only one of my closest friends, he's also one of my business partners. Everything is so entwined that if I cross the line with you now that I know who you are, it could cost me everything. The rest of the guys would side with him, and they should. There are some people you can't fuck, no matter how much you might want to, and your buddy's son has to be number one on the list."

He bristles and his expression morphs into a defiant scowl that's a hell of a lot cuter than it has any right to be.

"I'm not a little kid, Piston."

I rake my eyes over the parts of him I can see, from the dusting of dark stubble on his chin to the chest hair peeking out over the vee of his t-shirt, just like it was last night. The memory of his tongue snaking around mine and the hot, heavy press of his hard cock against my thigh flood my mind, making my cock swell.

"I know that," I say, my voice dipping low and husky. My gaze lingers on the patch of exposed skin on his collarbone for another second before I force my gaze away. "But you're his kid, and that's all that matters. You came all the way here to get to know him. I don't want to fuck that up for you."

"Answer one question for me?"

I hesitate, trying to imagine what he might want to ask, but eventually I nod. "Sure. Shoot."

"If Hero wasn't my dad, were you going to call me? Did you want to see what would happen between us?"

Laying it out so bluntly, the weight of the disappointment I've been trying not to feel all day crashes down on me. I let my shoulders sag, and I lean forward to rest my elbows on the table, hanging my head.

"Yes."

MILO

I don't know if his answer makes me feel better or worse. It's on the tip of my tongue to argue with him, to point out again that all the things that would normally make this situation creepy and wrong don't exist. Yeah, his friend is my dad, but it feels like a technicality. But watching Piston rub his hands over his face and seeing the heavy droop of his shoulders, maybe it's better if I just leave it alone for now. This obviously isn't the way he wants things either.

"Are you always so self-sacrificing?" I smirk.

He huffs a laugh and sits up straight again. "I only agreed to answer one question."

"That's a yes."

He chuckles again but doesn't deny it.

"You know how I met Hero?"

It's obviously a rhetorical question, but I shake my head anyway, scooting forward in my seat, eager to hear something about my dad. Since I was the product of a one-night stand, my mom didn't know anything beyond his name and where he lived. Luckily, that was more than enough to find him. But who he is, that's a complete mystery to me, aside from the little I've been able to piece together from his social media. But even that focuses mainly on the tattoos he does instead of his personal life.

"I was twenty-one or twenty-two, scrawny as hell and more righteous indignation than common sense. Arrow and I had been best friends since we were pre-teens, totally inseparable. We were living in Milwaukee at the time and Arrow had a bit of an anger problem he hadn't managed to get a handle on yet. We were at a bar one night, and I was nursing a beer, but he was several drinks in and starting to get mouthy as hell, looking for trouble or an excuse to cause some." Piston has a far-off look as he tells the story, a fond smile on his face. "It didn't take long before he got exactly what he wanted. This pissy little twink sitting at the other end of the bar didn't like something Arrow said, fuck if I can remember what it was now. Whatever it was, this little spitfire jumped off his stool and kicked it halfway across the room."

"Shit." I chuckle.

"Yeah, shit," Piston agrees. "Arrow towered over him, but he didn't give a fuck. It only took a few seconds of them posturing and getting in each other's faces before the bartender told us all to get the fuck out. So, I followed them into the parking lot and tried to talk some sense, getting between them and even offering them both twenty bucks to just cool it." He rubs his jaw and his eyes twinkle. "And then out of nowhere, there was Hero. He sauntered around to the side of the bar where they were getting into it and whipped his dick out to take a piss right against the building."

I bark out a surprised laugh. "What?"

"It was enough of a distraction that they both just stopped and stared for a second, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Then he zipped up, turned to Arrow and the unhinged twink and said, ‘this place sucks, you guys like pizza?' And that was that. Arrow and Jaguar forgot what they were fighting about and the four of us walked down the street to split a pizza."

"That's…" I shake my head and grin. "Not what I was expecting."

"Me either, but twenty-four years later, we're all still friends. Tighter than friends. Practically brothers."

The implication settles over me.

Well, fuck .

"Thanks for telling me that story. I've wanted to know my dad for as long as I can remember. It still feels surreal that I might actually get to."

There's understanding in his gaze, and it looks like he's weighing his next words carefully.

"I didn't know my dad either. He took off before I was even born. I thought about looking for him once or twice, but then I decided ‘fuck it, if he doesn't want me, I don't want him.'" The waitress chooses that moment to drop our food off. Piston stops talking for a minute, giving her a nod of thanks and immediately popping a fry into his mouth. Once she's gone, he goes on. "It's different though. Hero didn't choose to leave you; he never knew you existed."

I pick an onion ring off my plate and bite into it, chewing slowly while I think.

"If he'd known, do you think he would have wanted to be around?" As soon as I ask it, I want to take it back. It makes me sound like such a needy little kid.

"Yes," Piston answers without hesitation. "Without a doubt."

"Thanks." I smile, and a brief silence falls between us again.

The heavy mood lifts and we both dig into our food, steering towards surface level topics while we eat. We talk about movies and video games, and I try not to fixate on the way he licks the grease off of his lips in between bites.

We finish eating and I reach into my pocket for my wallet so I can cover my half of the bill. My heart sinks as I pat my empty pockets, standing up to check my back pockets even though I can tell they're empty without even reaching inside.

"Fuck," I groan, my stomach sinking. "When Hero stopped by, I completely forgot I left my wallet and motel key in the room."

Piston frowns then waves me off. "I've got it." He tosses down enough cash to cover the whole meal and a tip. "Are you going to be able to get another key tonight?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be able to?" I put Piston's jacket back on, my cock thickening eagerly as his scent wraps around me.

"This is Fall Crosse, and that motel isn't exactly a hotspot. I wouldn't be surprised if they leave the desk unmanned during slow hours."

My stomach sinks. "Shit. Seriously?"

He shrugs, but he doesn't look entirely hopeful. "Let me give you a ride and we can check."

I follow him out and hop on the back of his bike again. The ride back to the motel is disappointingly short—barely enough time to shamelessly press up against him from behind. And, sure enough, the door to the motel office is locked, with a sign that says someone will return in the morning and lists a number to call in case of an emergency.

Is getting a new room key an emergency? I guess it is considering my options are that or sleep on the sidewalk and probably freeze to death overnight.

"Fuuuuuck," I groan again, sagging against the door and banging my head on it. "Maybe I could break a window to get into my room. Think they'd charge me for that? Assuming someone doesn't see and call the cops first."

Piston grimaces and paces the sidewalk in front of me for a minute, shaking his head and chewing on his lip. After a minute he stops in front of me and lets out a long breath.

"You can crash at my place tonight and I'll bring you back here in the morning."

My heart jumps and I push off the door to take a step closer to him. I heard everything he said earlier, and I definitely decided I was going to respect it and not push his boundaries, but my hand moves all on its own, reaching out to grab a handful of his t-shirt. Piston's breath catches and his eyes darken.

"As long as you promise to behave," he adds in a deep, gruff voice, like he's just barely holding on to his resolve.

I bite my lip and nod slowly. "Promise."