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I didn’t mean to sound like a prick. My words were a cold, hard reality. It would take him months to get ready for the ride, not weeks. How could he not know it?

“I— I mean, I could work up to those miles if I tried harder.”

There were so many things wrong with the kid’s logic. I almost didn’t know where to start with the guy, but I wasn’t about to disparage him.

I was quiet for a few minutes as I returned to sanding the frame. Weston sat on the stool, his mind likely running a million miles an hour.

My mind was racing as well, considering possibilities and contingencies. I’d done consults for other riders over the years, but with the business model I was aspiring to create, going back in time to offer those services to a young man I hadn’t seen in years didn’t seem like a productive idea for my future.

“Honestly, Weston, it will take you at least eight months to work up to the mileage you’ll need to get to San Francisco. Rushing the training isn’t smart, okay? It would only cause you physical injury and possible long-term damage that you don’t need, and that’s not taking into consideration the mental toll it would take.”

West stared at me for a long moment. “What’s a better timeline, then? I only have a year, and the clock is already ticking. My mom is looking for a job, and we’re about to become homeless.”

The knot in my stomach seemed to fold in on itself. I knew the thoughts running through my head were ridiculous and not helpful at all. I had no time for Weston’s bullshit, but I couldn’t just turn him away. An assignment seemed to be in order.

I stopped sanding. “If you want me to help you with this ride, you’re going to have to give up this idea of doing your ride this year. It’s going to be next year, and you’re going to do everything I tell you to do without question.”

I turned toward Weston, staring into his eyes. “Are you willing to do what I say?”

He swallowed, returning my gaze through his long lashes. My heart was in my throat. God, he was beautiful.

“Sure. What do you want me to do?”

Far too many things went through my head that had no relation to the matter at hand. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to go down on me. I wanted to pick him up and hold him in my arms, protecting him from all of the bad things in the world.

But, I said none of those things. “First, if you want me to help you with this—and it will take a year at least—for every hour I’ll have to be on the road with you, you’ll have to work an hour for me. There will be a list of gear and necessities you’ll need for the trip, along with a place to sleep every night. That’s all going to cost a lot of money...money you need to come up with.

“You said you don’t have access to your trust fund, so you’ll need to find a job, and you’ll need to train for the ride. I can help with the training, but you’ll need to figure out how to fund your ride. I’m not a charity.”

His face fell. “I’d never ask you to pay for anything, Bridges. And I’ll pay you for your time and expertise. I don’t give a shit about myself. It’s my mother. My father has taken care of her since before they got married, and then he died and left her with nothing. I have to make sure she’s okay.”

It was surprising that Weston Aames could be so vulnerable when it came to his mother. It was touching, really. He loved his mother, and I’d witnessed the mess his mother was in after Claude’s death. He was a fucker for what he’d done to May. Weston, however, was old enough to take care of himself.

“Yeah, I get it. Here’s what I’m willing to do, Weston. I’ll make sure your mother is taken care of. You, though, need to find a job to accrue cash for this endeavor. You also need to figure out when you can give me hours to help with my business so I can give you my expertise. You’ve got some long days ahead of you.”

Weston turned to me. “You’ll take care of my mother? I’m in.”

“Write a proposal for me outlining each leg of the trip, including projected costs, places to sleep at night, repair shops because we’ll likely need to pick up supplies along the way. I’ll need it to determine how we tackle the obstacles we’ll face.”

Weston nodded before he hopped off the stool and left the workshop. I was sorry he left without another word. I honestly enjoyed his company.

Alexis returned to the workshop after showing Weston out. She greeted me with a hard stare as I continued to work on the frame.

“What?”

She smirked. “You’re getting in over your head, boss. That’s going to be a year out of your life that you can’t get back.”

I turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “When did you start listening at the door?”

“Well, you don’t tell me things because you believe I’ll judge you and point out your possible mistakes.” She smirked, and I knew she was spot on.

I stared at her for a moment, finally deciding to acknowledge some things I wouldn’t admit to anyone.

“Back when I was Weston’s age, I was as much of a hot mess as he is right now. My father was a real bastard when it came to my sexuality. He’s only just accepting the fact he has a queer son, and he still doesn’t like it. We just don’t talk about it. Mom’s fine with it, but Dad doesn’t get it.”

Alexis nodded. “I have issues with my father, too. He’s firmly convinced I just haven’t met the right guy. I have no desire to meet any guy, much less the right one.”

When I met Alexis at a LGBTQIA+ charity event, we were seated next to each other and hit it off immediately. We were both passionate about equality, diversity, and safety for those in the rainbow community, and we became very good friends because of that passion.