When he returned, I was in the front seat, making engine sounds in the back of my throat as I bent forward and pretended I was racing around a course. I stopped and straightened as soon as I noticed him, but the damage to any cool California cred I might’ve had was done.

“That’s okay,” Jerry said with a grin. “I do that all the time.”

I clambered off, my cheeks hot against the cool air. Taking one of the helmets he’d brought out with him, I was grateful it hid my face and made further embarrassment impossible.

His motions were quick and efficient. Within two minutes, he’d moved it outside and taken his position, glancing over his shoulder to nod at me to join him.

When my thighs nudged against his, I realized the error of my decision. As the passenger, I would have to hold onto him. My arms around his waist. My legs straddling the outside of his. Whenever he turned, his ass would slide back and nestle against my crotch. Sure, he was wearing a heavy coat, and I had on jeans and a pair of Dad’s long underwear, but I hadn’t had sex in over six months. All it would take was the mere suggestion for me to get hard. I wasn’t even sure I could count on the freezing temperature to keep it from happening.

Too late to do anything about it now. As soon as my arms curled around him, Jerry was off.

He didn’t start slow. We whipped away from the barn’s exit at speeds that took my breath away. They erased the world’s edges into a soft blur of white and brown, forcing me to tighten my grip and duck my head to cut back on our resistance. Jerry’s height worked to my advantage, though I did my best not to rest my helmet against his shoulder. He needed full mobility, unhindered by my clumsiness.

Even with me weighing us down, Jerry handled the snowmobile like a pro. His turns were tight and controlled, his pace unfaltering. The Bearcat was a utility machine, but Jerry made it glide over the snow like it was built for performance instead. He left the house behind, zipping us over the frozen fields until I could pretend only we existed, just us, just the speed, just the snow.

Rather than angle us to the trees, he drove us to the top of a low rise, overlooking the countryside. I pulled back when he killed the engine, my heart pounding, my body tight from both desire and the rush of the ride. This was what I’d been looking for since leaving California behind. The reminder that life could be both simple and exhilarating. For a moment, I actually thought that I could climb into my car, return to LA, and pick up the shattered pieces of my life.

Jerry twisted to look at me. “You ready to take the throttle?”

I should’ve been. It was what I’d wanted by coming out in the first place. Having the snowmobile between my legs took me right back to high school, too, so my concerns about feeling awkward were gone.

But now that he was offering, I wasn’t sure I wanted it. After years of being the one in charge, steering the course with Sean as an unwilling rider, I liked what it felt like giving that control to another person. Trusting that person to lead the way. Part of my request to return to Michigan had been the hope I could give that control to my parents for a few months, but their absence had taken that away from me.

It might only be a snowmobile ride, but Jerry was an excellent substitute.