Robin’s knees weakened, nearly collapsing. “Really? I don’t have much money to spare. But I can crochet you something as thanks! Well, I can do it when I get back home. I’ll make you a whole sweater—two if you want! Or if you don’t wear sweaters, I can—”

Dusty sighed. “We can figure it out later.” His mouth formed a resolute line. “I’ll take you.”

“No kidding.”

“It’s not like I have a packed schedule.”

Robin nearly leapt to hug him but commanded his feet still. He bobbed his head. “So I’ll see you Saturday morning?”

“We can head out today.”

“You don’t have work?”

“I work seasonally. We shut down last week. I’ll just pack my stuff and we can go.”

Smoothing back his hair, Robin puffed out his cheeks. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

Not wanting to get caught in a tide of more gratuitous appreciation, Dusty cleared his throat. “How about you get breakfast while I go eat mine and pack? I’ll come by in an hour to pick you up.”

“Will I get a to-go box too?”

“I don’t think you’re on Dottie’s radar, but just lay low.”

Robin touched his index finger to his temple and saluted. “Whatever you say!”

Dusty swallowed with a nod and began walking in the direction of the motel.

It took a while for Robin’s smile to fade. It wasn’t until a waitress brought coffee to his spot at Dottie’s counter that a dark thought dawned on him. He barely knew this man and he was going to spend the next couple of days in his close company. Dusty could very well be a serial killer. As wild as the thought was, perhaps the older man preferred to kill with his human hands than as a beast. Then again, Robin had many chances to run into murderers on his journey up to this point. Even living in LA wasn’t a safe guarantee. He sipped from his mug, feeling very exposed.

Weighing the options, Robin would much rather Dusty’s company than a completely new stranger if he were to hitchhike. At least there were some things he knew about the older man. Robin sucked on the spoon he used to mix sugar into his coffee. No backing out now. This was his best shot at getting to Seattle.

Quelling his stomach and nerves, a meal of biscuits and gravy made Robin’s acquaintance. With each bite of soft biscuit coated in creamy bits of sausage, he was reminded of home. It wasn’t his room in LA, nor was it the home of his childhood. Rather, it was an image collaged from all the ideas he had gathered throughout his life of what a peaceful existence with a loved one would be.

Comfort was a scarce thing. Shallow comforts were found in junk food and lazy days spent in bed. True comfort, however, required a more personal component. Robin was pleased to discover it in fleeting moments, like a home-cooked meal shared by his roommate’s mom, or in the biscuits made from scratch sitting before him. He sighed. They were patchworks of a dream, a storybook quilt one wished for as a child that perhaps some day he would miraculously come into the possession of. Still, he was thankful for each scrap he observed, even if he couldn’t bring them into permanence.

As he scraped the plate of crumbs and gravy, the portent call of his destination stalked outside. Robin paid for his meal and left the café. The brisk morning plunged him back to reality, and comfort closed shop behind him. Ahead, his orange chariot pulled up, shining against the dark asphalt and drab colors of other vehicles. The young man reckoned he was in for an awkward ride, but he could boast to himself about sitting shotgun next to a werewolf at least.

Robin hefted his backpack onto the bench seat, once more putting it between him and the driver’s side.

Dusty checked his mirrors. “You enjoy breakfast at Dottie’s?”

“Yeah, I had the biscuits and gravy. Way better than my mom’s. Easy bar though, not like my mom would ever make biscuits.”

“She not much of a cook?” Dusty asked as he navigated out of the parking lot.

“She’s Chinese. Of course she wouldn’t make biscuits.”

Dusty grunted, unsure of how to reply. 

A sly grin possessed Robin’s face. “C’mon, man. Just trying to break the ice.”

Turning onto the main road, Dusty cleared his throat. “Do you want the scenic route or the business route?”

Robin stared out the window, the gray building of the bus station fleeing past. He hummed. “Scenic if it’s not going to take much longer.”

“Is there a date you need to make it there by?”

The young man shrunk into his jacket, an invisible weight bearing onto his body. “Let’s say Monday.”

“Taking the scenic route it is, then.”

A smile threatened to bend Robin’s lip. Despite everything he was wary of, he was on the precipice of adventure. Even if it would be a straightforward drive, the company of the mysterious stranger was enough to stoke his excitement. The young man sat erect in his seat, a thousand questions swimming in the confines of his body.

“Planes and trains aside, you’re good with cars and trucks though, right? I don’t need to get a bucket for you?” Dusty asked, palming the wheel into a turn.

“I get rocked to sleep by ‘em,” replied Robin.

The older man flashed him a look.

“Haha, I’m sure you’ll get a demonstration to your relief later, but I’m wide awake right now.”

Dusty grunted.

Robin’s eyes roved around the cabin of the truck. He wouldn’t unleash a torrent of questions, not yet. For now, he took in the restored details of the dashboard and interior. The job was less than pristine, nothing like the shiny waxed prizes of classic car enthusiasts, but he could tell it was a labor of love. A thought crossed his mind to ask about the mileage and other car questions, but he wasn’t a car guy and didn’t want the pretense.

“So you traveling to Seattle to stay or to visit?”

Relief fell over Robin with Dusty taking the lead in an inevitable exchange of questions. “Visit. There’s … an opportunity there.” He quirked his mouth. “But you don’t have to wait for me. Once you drop me off, you can do whatever you want. Not that I’m staying up there for long, though. I have meds at home that need me.”

“Just meds in LA?”

Robin paused for thought. He depended on his medications the most out of anything day to day. His job provided the bare basics to exist, and the people he knew came short of adding anything meaningful to that.

“Well, I have a job at a nonprofit, but it’s not like I’m attached to it or anyone there. I have roommates who want my part of the rent every month. That’s about it.”

“Paramores?”

Robin tilted his head. “If you know anyone who’ll give an Asian trans guy a chance, hook me up!”

Dusty’s fingers drummed over the steering wheel. His eyes swept to Robin for a moment before resting on the road again. “About that …”

“Mm?” Robin held his breath.

“I’d been thinking. If you really wanted to make sure no one mistook ya … why not cut your hair?”

Robin blurted a chuckle. “That would be easy, huh?” He turned his head toward the greens and browns passing by his side. “Funny thing is growing up I always had short hair—well, shorter hair. It wasn’t until my transition that I grew it out. But who’s to say what men should look like, or what anyone looks like?”

Dusty issued a quiet grunt. “I guess no one questions heavy metal guys and their hair choices …”

A heartier laugh escaped. “There ya go. You’re starting to expand your mind.”