7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

MILO

I stuff my hands into my pockets and pull them back out again, then cross my arms over my chest before realizing how awkward and unnatural it is to walk that way. I should probably say something, right? Usually, I don't have any trouble letting my mouth run away with me, but of course my mind is completely blank right now. How exactly are you supposed to start a conversation with a man you've never met but who supplied half your DNA?

For his part, Hero seems just as nervous as I am, running his hands through his hair more than once and doing the same hands-in-pockets, hands-out-of-pockets thing I was doing all the way down the street.

"This place has really good sauerkraut," he says.

I nod, but then my blabbermouth kicks in. "I hate sauerkraut."

"Oh." He rubs the back of his neck. "They have other stuff too."

I bob my head again and give a smile that I hope looks less awkward than it feels. "Cool."

There's some relief when we reach the deli a couple of blocks from Ink Slingers. At least eating will give us something to do with our hands while we figure out how to have a normal conversation. Hero pulls the door open and waves me through.

The smell of sausage and sauerkraut hits me as soon as I step inside. It looks like they have a whole variety of non-German options as well, so that's promising. The guy behind the counter is a big dude with a bushy mustache and a stained apron.

"Hero, hey man," he says, reaching over the counter to fist-bump Hero.

"Hey, Klaus." My dad pats the guy's shoulder heartily after they bump knuckles. "How's your kid doing?"

Klaus' smile widens. "Getting stronger every day. I'll never be able to repay you guys."

Hero waves him off. "We were all happy we could help." He glances over my way and then clears his throat. "Actually, uh, speaking of kids… this is mine."

Klaus's eyebrows jump up and he looks between the two of us. My cheeks heat and a genuine smile tugs at my lips this time.

"Milo." I introduce myself and offer a handshake.

Klaus takes my hand in a meaty grip and shakes it vigorously.

"It's great to meet you. Your dad is good people. My son would be in the ground right now if it weren't for the money they raised to help pay for his chemo." Klaus says. My mouth falls open and I'm not sure what to say, so I just nod until Klaus lets go of my hand. "But I'm sure you two didn't come here to shoot the shit. What can I get for you?"

I order a roast beef and muenster, and Hero orders a schnitzel sandwich with a side of sauerkraut. We both reach for our wallets at the same time, but Klaus shakes his head.

"It's on me. Have a seat and I'll bring your food over in a few minutes."

We do just that, grabbing a table in the middle of the quiet deli. There's only one other customer here at the moment, reading an honest to god newspaper like it's the nineties while he eats a plate of sausage and 'kraut.

"So… he thinks rainbows shine out of your ass," I joke quietly as we both take a seat.

Hero chuckles and I notice a blush creeping into his cheeks. "It's no big deal."

Silence falls between us again. I click my fingernails together and look around, desperately hoping the perfect conversation starter will be painted in bold letters on the nearest wall. After a minute, he clears his throat again and the legs of his chair screech against the tile as he shifts around.

"I know we've got almost thirty years' worth of stuff to catch up on, but I'm not sure I know where to start. Maybe, uh… do you want to tell me about your mom? I wish I could say I knew much about her, but I doubt I could pick her out of a lineup." He winces at his confession, and I chuckle.

"It's okay, I get it. Upside of being gay is I'll never have to worry about a surprise love child knocking on my door." I'm not even going to mention the fact that in order to have a love child I would have to actually have sex. There are some things I'm sure my dad doesn't really want to know.

He rumbles a laugh. "You would think. But it turns out that it can still happen if you go through a period of denial and drunk hookups with women before you admit to yourself that you're gay."

"Well, no problem there. And hey, at least we have one thing in common."

"Right. If all else fails we can listen to Chappell Roan together."

We both laugh and a minute later, Klaus comes by to drop off our food. We dig in and I notice that a bit of the uncomfortable tension between us has eased. His shoulders are a little less rigid and the urge to flail around in my seat just to expel nervous energy is gone.

"So, the TL;DR of my life, let's see…" I chew and swallow a bite and quickly try to organize my life into a series of bullet points in my head. "I was born in Milwaukee, but Mom moved around a lot, so we were out of Wisconsin before I was even a year old. We lived all over the Midwest for most of my childhood. Illinois, Indiana, Ohio… Then she met a guy in Portland and dragged us out there. That only lasted a couple of years and after that we ended up in Colorado, which is where my grandparents live. I was sick of moving by then, so the next time Mom got the itch to pick up and leave, I decided to stay with them. She was in and out after that, coming back whenever she got bored of a job or relationship and needed somewhere to land and figure out her next crazy idea."

A familiar wave of affection and shame washes over me, same as any time I think about my mom. I relate to her more than I wish I did and as much as I wanted to hate her when I was a teenager, I just feel bad for her now. She never felt settled or happy, she never found a job or a place or a life that felt like it fit her. That part is like looking in a fucking mirror.

Hero is quiet, listening intently as he eats.

"Anyway… I stayed with them until I graduated high school and then I tried the college thing, but it wasn't really for me. I hate to say it, but since then I've taken a page out of Mom's book and have been bouncing around, trying to find a job I can stand to do for more than a few months, or anything that makes me want to put down roots really."

I'm not sure what else to say, so I take a big bite of my sandwich as an excuse to stop talking. I don't want to tell him that I'm hoping maybe Fall Crosse will be the place I decide to stay, that maybe the perfect job will fall into my lap, and I'll figure out who I am and who I want to be here. Saying any of that feels too much like all the times my mom swore to me that her new job, new boyfriend, or new apartment were exactly what we'd been missing and now we could finally settle and be happy.

"It took me some time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life too," Hero says reassuringly. "I tried a few different jobs before I got a tattoo apprenticeship, met the guys, and really felt like I'd found my place in the world."

I smile and open my mouth to tell him how funny the story was that Piston told me about how they met. Then I snap it closed quickly, remembering just in time that I can't tell him I talked to Piston about any of this. Fuck. Alright, fine, he was right, this is messy.

"That's cool. Who knows, maybe the next job I get will be the one. Tenth time's the charm, right?" I give a self-deprecating laugh and Hero cocks his head. I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes again just like back at the shop after I told him about the motel.

"You know what? We keep talking about hiring a receptionist for the shop. If you want the position while you look for something else, I'm sure the guys would all be happy to give it to you."

"Oh." I bite my lip. "You don't have to do that. I didn't come here looking for handouts or wanting to disrupt your whole life."

Hero frowns. "I know you're not looking for a handout, but in my family, we take care of each other. No questions asked."

My chest warms and I try to think of any reason I shouldn't accept the offer. When I can't come up with anything, I nod.

"Okay, sure. As long as the other guys really don't mind, then I'd love to take the job for now."

A huge smile jumps right back to his face. "Great. I'll talk to them as soon as I get back from lunch."

"Thanks."

"You have three aunts on my side, by the way. And my parents are still kicking, and just as stubborn as they ever were," he says. "I'm going to introduce you to them, just maybe not right away, if that's okay?"

"Of course. I know this is weird. We're strangers, but you're my dad, so there's this whole expectation of closeness. It's a lot to navigate."

"We'll figure it out," he says, and that warm feeling expands inside of me.

"Yeah," I agree. "We'll figure it out."

After we finish eating, we walk back to Ink Slingers and Hero offers to swing by the motel after work to help me move my stuff over to Piston's. Again, I can't think of any reason to say no, so I just thank him, and we exchange numbers.

While I wait for my Uber back to the motel, it hits me again that I'm going to be living with Piston. Guilt twists in my stomach. After spending a little time with Hero, I get why Piston is holding back now. I'd say it's enough to convince me to drop all flirtation and keep things as platonic as possible between us, but that would be a lie.

I don't want to cause a problem between him and Hero, and I don't want to fuck up this shaky new relationship with my dad, but I know I can't let this thing between Piston and me go either.

PISTON

The orange glow of the bonfire in my backyard is a familiar sight this time of year. The smell of charcoal and meat overpowers the burning wood and smoke, and chatter and laughter drown out the crackle of the fire. Every so often, the thunderous rumble of another motorcycle cuts through the night and my heart jams itself into my throat, even though I'm positive Hero's going to show up with Milo in his truck since he's going to have bags and shit with him.

I can't believe I agreed to let Milo stay here. On the other hand, what were my options? Hero was right, we couldn't let him stay at the motel indefinitely, and I do have an extra bedroom. The unspoken part is what's still eating at me hours later. He wants Milo to stay here because he trusts me to watch out for him.

"Throw a few more on the grill, man," Gates calls over to me, pocketing his phone again. "My old man and the rest of the guys are closing up the garage and going to swing by."

"For the love of fuck, if you keep using such cringe biker lingo, we're going to have to revoke your standing invite," Jag says blandly, tilting a bottle of beer to his lips and narrowing his eyes at Gates. "Also, please tell me he's not coming."

"Who?" Gates looks legitimately confused while I tear open another package of hot dogs to toss onto the grill.

Jag shakes his head. "Never mind. If I speak his name, I'll just jinx it."

"Ooookay," Gates murmurs, glancing over at Tex for help.

Tex shrugs. "You know Jag. On a good day, he makes about as much sense as tits on a duck."

I sputter a laugh. Tex has a point there.

We all met Gates a few years back now, at a rest stop not too far outside town. We chatted about bikes, and he's been an honorary member of our crew ever since. Of course, his husband and the Big Bull Mechanics keep him too busy to come around for rides or anything as often as the rest of us, but we've always made it clear he's got a standing invite.

"You know, one of these days, we should think about making you official," Arrow says, his arm around his boyfriend, Lewis. "What do you think? Would you want to be an Ink Slinger?"

"Like, work at the shop or do you mean patch me in?"

Arrow huffs. "See," he says pointedly to the rest of us. "It's more confusing now that our club and our shop have the same name."

"So, we should go back to being the cannibals?" Jag rolls his eyes.

"The Skins," Arrow mutters.

The roar of a motorcycle engine cuts off the conversation and I whip my head around. Instead of being Hero and Milo, which I knew it wouldn't be, it's Monty, owner of Basket Case Bikes.

He pulls to a stop among the other Harleys parked on my back lawn and hops off.

"Hope you guys don't mind me crashing. Riggs texted me that the party was here tonight."

"The more the merrier," I assure him.

As promised, the guys from Big Bull start showing up, and they keep me busy enough with food that I forget to listen for Hero's truck for a while, which explains why I startle when he claps me on the shoulder with his big-ass bear paw. He gives a deep chuckle and then flings his arm around me.

"Hey, I just want to say thanks again for letting Milo crash here."

I swallow hard. "Yeah, of course."

I glance past him, searching the small crowd for the guy I definitely haven't been thinking about all day.

"He's inside getting settled. Should be out soon." He answers my unasked question. "He hasn't had a chance to do laundry in over a week, so I told him to go ahead and throw a load in, and that you wouldn't mind him borrowing something to wear in the meantime."

My heart stutters just as the back door swings open and Milo steps out. As promised, he's wearing a pair of my jeans and one of my hooded sweatshirts. Both are slightly baggy on him since I've got a good fifty pounds of muscle on him, but the sight of him in my clothes makes my gut heat and my cock respond instantly.

Fuck me .

I angle myself away from Hero so he can't see that I'm on the verge of drooling and hyperventilating. He squeezes my shoulder again, then saunters away to pull Milo into the rowdy group. I glance over while he's in the middle of introductions and sneak another quick peek.

Milo is preening under the attention with Hero by his side, telling all of our friends the hilarious story of being blindsided at the shop yesterday. I'm sure each and every one of them is itching to start telling Milo as many embarrassing stories as they can think of about his dad.

Milo looks over at me, our eyes meeting, and my heart jumps into my throat. I give him a nod of greeting and then start turning the batch of hot dogs I currently have on the grill.

How the fuck am I going to do this? How am I going to live with temptation right down the hallway? I've never had a problem with control before, but fuck does Milo make me want to lose it.

I'm going to have to figure it out one way or another. I'm just hoping like hell that he makes it easy on me.