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Chapter twenty-one

Clayton

The campfire crackled behind them, sending warm orange light dancing across the ground and into the surrounding trees. The evening air was heavy with the earthy scent of damp leaves, mingled with the faint whiff of smoke from the fire. Clayton nudged Sawyer gently with his elbow as they turned away from the group, heading down the narrow path that led to the tent. A lantern hanging from a post swayed slightly, throwing shards of light through the darkness. The quiet was like a balm—soft, tranquil, just them.

Clayton’s heart was unsettled. He had always carried himself with ease, exuding confidence even when doubts nibbled at the edge of his thoughts. But when it came to Sawyer, the confident mask slipped, replaced by something raw, more uncertain. He didn’t know how to put words to it, not exactly. He knew how he felt, but saying it aloud and having it mean the right thing—that was harder than it seemed. He glanced over at Sawyer, catching the way the moonlight softened his features, turning the sharp edges of his profile into something poetic. Something sacred.

“Hey, uh…” Clayton started, his voice cracking just slightly, enough to make him cringe internally. His words felt heavy in his throat. “Can we talk about something?”

Sawyer turned to him, his face open but unreadable, like it often was. There was a gentleness to Sawyer’s gaze that could disarm you if you weren’t careful. He wasn’t wearing that guarded expression he sometimes fell into when people pushed too hard. Tonight, there was no fortress. Just Sawyer, bare and unprotected under the silver sheen of the night sky.

“Sure,” Sawyer replied, as easy as ever, his voice like the pull of a tide. “What’s on your mind?”

The question hung in the air as they continued down the path, the gravel crunching softly beneath their boots. Clayton hadn’t expected it to feel this hard, but maybe that was the thing about caring. Maybe it was supposed to be a challenge, supposed to make you want to get it right.

“I guess I’ve been thinking,” Clayton said finally, choosing each word with care. “About…you. About all the stuff you’ve been through.”

Sawyer didn’t respond immediately. Clayton was suddenly very aware of the rhythmic sound of their footsteps, the way his own thoughts seemed loud against the quiet hum of crickets.

“I just—” Clayton bit down on his lip for a second, taking a breath. “I want you to know, whatever you need—whatever you want to do about all of it—I’m here for you. If you want to dive into it, process it, face it head-on…or if you want to just let it go and not think about it anymore, that’s okay too. Whatever you want, I mean that.”

Sawyer stopped walking. It was abrupt, like his mind had reeled in the moment and told him to pause. Clayton took two more steps before realizing Sawyer wasn’t beside him anymore. He turned, catching the look on Sawyer’s face—the one that spoke volumes before words even came.

“Clayton,” Sawyer said quietly, and it struck Clayton how intimate his name sounded when it rolled off Sawyer’s tongue. “I appreciate that. More than you know.”

“But?” Clayton asked, tentatively.

“No but.” Sawyer smiled—not the big kind, not the cheeky grin—but one of those small, knowing smiles that felt like it was meant only for him. “I know enough right now. About the past, I mean.”

Sawyer’s words settled between them, sinking in like smooth stones dropped into deep water. Clayton wanted to understand, but his own thoughts were tangled, like a spool of thread unwinding.

“You know enough?” he repeated, lifting his brow just slightly.

Sawyer nodded, stepping closer. His voice was steady, full of that quiet strength he carried, even in moments like this. “I don’t want to live my life backwards, Clayton. I can’t keep carrying everything around like it’s some kind of anchor. I just want…to be here. To live one day at a time. I want to look ahead, not behind. And more than anything, I want something real with you.”

Clayton felt his chest tighten, like the air had been squeezed out and replaced with something new—something warmer. His lips parted, but no words came out, not immediately. There was plenty swirling around in his head, but none of them felt quite right. How do you respond when someone hands you something as unfiltered as that? How do you take it without fumbling it?

They had started walking again, the tent growing larger in the dim light, but Clayton was still replaying Sawyer’s words, folding them over and over in his mind.

When they reached the tent, Clayton stopped and turned to Sawyer fully, and it hit him just how much he wanted to hold this moment, to tuck it away and keep it safe. Sawyer was standing close now, and Clayton could see everything—the tiny flicker in Sawyer’s eyes, the way his breathing slowed just slightly, the way his lips curved, soft and unassuming.

Clayton reached for Sawyer’s hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it like it was some kind of vow. “You want something real?” he murmured.

Sawyer nodded. “With you, yeah. I want that.”

“I want that too.” Clayton felt the words roll out before he could think about them too hard. And maybe that was good. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to overthink this. “You have me, Sawyer. All of me. I don’t know how this goes, but I want to figure it out with you.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the space between them electric but steady. Then, Sawyer closed the gap, and when their lips met, Clayton was reminded why people wrote songs about this kind of thing, why poets spent entire lifetimes trying to capture moments like this. It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t polished—but it was them, honest and entirely unguarded.

Clayton’s hand found its way to Sawyer’s jaw, his fingers curling slightly, and when they finally broke the kiss, the world felt quiet—like it had somehow paused just for them.

“You okay?” Clayton asked softly, his voice low.

Sawyer laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that warmed Clayton to his core. “Better than okay,” he said.

“Good.” Clayton leaned in again, brushing his nose against Sawyer’s lightly. “Because I’m pretty sure we’re starting something here. Something good.”

Sawyer’s smile widened, and Clayton felt like he could live in that smile, letting it be a small sun lighting up everything else.