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Chapter twenty-three

Sawyer

With a smile pulling at his lips, Sawyer threw the picnic basket over one shoulder and squinted up at the blue sky. It was one of those perfect free days at camp that called for outdoor time. Next to him, Clayton put on his sunglasses and looked sexy as fuck, then he picked up a pile of towels and a small cooler that likely held more snacks than the two of them could ever eat. They headed to the lake to spend the day together on a rowboat. He thought he would have Clayton all to himself.

“Sawyer, are you sure you can carry all that?” Clayton teased.

Sawyer gave him a mock glare. “Who, me?” He exaggerated the sway of his hips, causing the basket to bounce. “This fucking basket weighs, like, twenty pounds. I could do a strongman competition with this thing.” He had no idea what Clayton had put in there because he had gone to the mess hall to fill it up while Sawyer showered. Luckily, Clayton had installed a private shower block near their tent. Perks of the owner.

Clayton grinned, the kind that warmed Sawyer’s chest. “Right. While we’re at it, I’ll sign you up for next year’s log carry.”

Even though Clayton was kidding, he talked about Sawyer going to Pride Camp next year. Each time their future was part of a conversation, a feeling of warmth and safety washed over him.

Sawyer couldn’t resist sneaking a look at Clayton every couple of seconds as they walked down the narrow path toward the lake. The way the sunlight hit the golden streaks in his hair, the way he smiled without tension—it was moments like these Sawyer lived for.

They rarely had free time during camp, and when they did, it felt like a treasure to spend it together away from distractions and others. They would have to work when they returned home. Sawyer was curious how all of that would play out for them; would they have special dates? He’d never understood how relationships worked.

“So,” Sawyer said, giving Clayton a light elbow jab. “What do we plan to do for the rest of the day? Other than rowing and passing every other boat on the lake.”

Clayton rolled his eyes. “Are you going to muscle us across the lake like some sort of Olympian?”

“Hey!” Sawyer protested, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know these arms have done great things. Just a week ago, I was carrying three grocery bags in one hand. Three, Clayton. And that—that’s natural talent you’ve got to deal with here.”

Clayton cupped his hand over his mouth for a moment, then shook his head. “Sure, my love. I stand corrected. We’ll be zipping around the lake soon enough.”

“You didn’t answer me, Clayton,” Sawyer repeated.

“I thought we would meet up with the other owners and their boyfriends. Are you okay with that?”

“That sounds fun. I’ve never had friends like these guys before.” Sawyer wanted to be alone with Clayton, but he also looked forward to getting closer to each of them. He’d always been alone, never imagining the warmth of friendship or the passion of love. A lump formed in his throat, and he fought back the happy tears that threatened to spill.

“The guys all like you. I’m glad you like them too. You didn’t have a chance to meet guy friends.”

The dirt path opened up and the glistening waters of the lake appeared. It was as beautiful today as it always was—peaceful with just a bit of wind rippling the water. A couple of boats were already on the water, their occupants either fishing or just floating. Two familiar figures were laughing on the dock, each gripping an oar.

“Jeff and Malik?” Sawyer said, arching his brow in slight surprise. “What are they doing here?”

“Same thing we’re doing, probably,” Clayton said, shrugging. “Seems we have competition.”

When they got close to the dock, Jeff saw them first and waved his hand in greeting. His wide smile was friendly, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Malik turned around as well, and his face lit up when he saw them.

“Oh, oh,” Jeff hollered, resting on his oar. “Look who showed up. Thought you two sweethearts were going to be nestled up all day in your little tent.”

“Oh, come on,” Clayton shot back, depositing the cooler and towels on the dock. “We had plenty of time last night and this morning. We, unlike you, actually have a plan.”

“Oh, do you now?” Jeff teased.

Malik asked, “And what’s that? Capsize your boat in five minutes?”

Sawyer put a hand over his heart, pretending shock. “I’ll have you know we are exceptional rowers. Clayton even Googled ‘How to row a boat’ last night. We’re almost experts.”

Clayton let out a groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “I did not Google that. Don’t you believe a word he says.”

Jeff and Malik cackled together, and for a moment, the four of them simply stood there, savoring shared laughter and the glow of the sun. It felt so natural—like this was exactly where they were all meant to be.

“So,” Jeff said after a brief pause. “Are we racing, or what?”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Clayton said, his smile growing. “Prepare to lose.”

The oars dipped smoothly below the surface in long, controlled strokes as the two boats headed out into the water. Sawyer and Clayton fell into a rhythm almost immediately, their strokes steady and synchronized. Clayton did most of the steering, the muscles in his arms flexing with each pull of the oar, while Sawyer did his best to keep them at a consistent pace.

“This is actually kind of relaxing,” Sawyer said, looking over his shoulder at Clayton.

“Not if you consider the fact that Jeff and Malik are probably plotting to sabotage us.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Sawyer replied. “But we’re obviously the better team. Just look at our coordination.”

Clayton smirked. “Right. Superior. How long can you hold it there before your arms break?”

“Did you forget I worked on a farm?” Sawyer asked. “But don’t worry—I’m going to show you otherwise.”

“I forgot about that. And I love you all the more for it. You love animals too.”

“I want to get a dog.”

“I’ve wanted to get one too. We can do that when we get home.”

They rowed farther out on the lake, and the conversation turned more playful. They discussed their plans for the next few months, where they wanted to travel, and what small things they wanted to do together. The topic of them moving in together kept coming up, and Sawyer would get this little flutter of excitement every time it did. It felt like a dream, but when he heard the words, it became real. But still?

“Can you believe it?” Clayton said, his voice hushed but heavy with sentiment. “At the end of the week, we’ll begin our life together, our life. Getting up in the morning together, going to bed together…the whole thing.”

Sawyer grinned, his heart swelling with love. “I can’t wait. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I love Summer Pride camping in the tent. But to be with you in an actual bed in a home? That’s so romantic and exciting to me.”

Clayton didn’t respond immediately, but the look he flashed Sawyer was response enough. It was a primal, unadulterated look of love—the kind that went straight to Sawyer’s soul, causing his heart to trip.

Jeff and Malik’s boat cruised past them at that moment, Jeff’s voice cutting through the stillness. “You better hurry, guys! At this pace, we’ll be back on shore before you even reach halfway.”

“Keep dreaming!” But Clayton smiled back, amused.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in a daze of giggles, teasing, and the steady splash of the oars against the water. It was the kind of day Sawyer knew he would remember for the rest of his life—a day full of love and smiles and the promise of so much more.

Later on, the smell of sizzling chicken wafted through the picnic area, mingling with the earthy aroma of pine trees and damp grass. Sawyer held a pair of tongs loosely in his hand, flipping the drumsticks on the grill with practiced ease. The heat radiating from the coals kissed his face, and the occasional snap of fat against the flame broke the tranquil hum of crickets in the distance. James stood across from him, beer can in hand, leaning against the wooden edge of the picnic table like he had nowhere else to be. The two were lost in conversation, the kind that came when the beers were cold, the chicken was cooking, and no one was in a hurry.

Clayton and Brody had wandered off to the mess hall an hour ago, promising to return with a buffet of sides that ranged from potato salad to mac and cheese, and whatever else the kitchen staff had conjured up. Sawyer figured they were taking their sweet time to avoid the less glamorous job of manning the grill, but he didn’t mind. It was nice, standing here with James—just talking and getting to know him.

James tipped his beer can toward Sawyer in a lazy gesture. “You ever ride?”

Sawyer blinked, pulling his attention away from the flames as he processed the question. “Motorcycles? Yeah, I do. Had one back in Oregon.”

James raised an eyebrow, his expression vaguely impressed. “What kind?”

Sawyer shifted his weight, glancing down at the grill as though the chicken needed urgent supervision. “It was a Yamaha. Older model. Nothing fancy, but it got me around the farm.”

James nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Left it back there?”

“Yeah.” Sawyer’s voice came out quieter this time, and he realized he’d stopped turning the chicken. He cleared his throat and resumed his task, hoping the motion would brush away the twinge of longing that always surfaced when he thought about home. Oregon seemed like another lifetime now—so far removed from the person he was trying to be. “Had little choice when I left on the run. Couldn’t take much with me. Plus, I didn’t want them finding me by my license plate.”

James was quiet for a moment. The pause hinted he was chewing on an idea. “Well,” he said finally, his tone casual but carrying an undertone of something bigger, “I’ve been rebuilding a bike. Got an old Honda in the garage, pretty beat up when I got it, but she’s coming along. Figure she’d be perfect for you.”

Sawyer froze mid-motion, the tongs hovering over the grill. He looked up, meeting James’s gaze head-on for the first time since the conversation began. “Wait, what?”

“I’m serious,” James said, his grin faint but genuine. “You should have a bike. Get around when you want to do your own thing. I won’t use it much, anyway. Brody gave me another one from the shop.”

Sawyer stared at him, the words sinking in slowly. His brain felt sluggish trying to process the offer. “James, that’s—” He stopped, the sentence crumbling before it could form. “I mean, are you sure?”

James laughed softly, a sound that seemed to come from his chest rather than his throat. “What, you think I’m just messing with you?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Sawyer admitted, the tongs now hanging uselessly from his hand. He was sure one of the chicken legs would burn if he didn’t get back to it soon, but he couldn’t tear his focus away from James. “That’s…that’s a hell of a gift.”

James shrugged, like it was no big deal, but the way he looked at Sawyer told a different story. “You’ll use it more than I will. Might as well go to someone who’ll appreciate it.”

Sawyer’s chest felt tight, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out if it was gratitude or guilt—or maybe both. He set the tongs down on the edge of the grill and rubbed the back of his neck, his mind spinning. “James, I don’t even know what to say. Thank you—that’s incredible.”

James waved a hand like he was brushing off the thanks, but there was a faint flush creeping into his cheeks. “Don’t make a big thing about it, alright? When I first started out, Brody gave me an older one. It just seems right I do the same for you.”

Sawyer nodded, his throat feeling uncomfortably tight. “Yeah, I will ride it for sure. Thanks.”

They fell into silence for a beat, the crackle of the grill filling the space. Sawyer turned his focus back to the chicken, nudging each piece over to make sure it cooked evenly. His thoughts were a blur, bouncing between the image of his old Yamaha back in Oregon and the idea of riding again—this time with his new friends. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed the freedom of it until the prospect was dangled in front of him.

As if reading his mind, James broke the quiet. “We could go riding together sometime. Could show you some good routes around here.”

Sawyer looked up, his lips twitching into a smile despite himself. “You trying to recruit a riding buddy?” he teased.

“Maybe,” James replied, draining the last of his beer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or maybe I just don’t want to see that bike sitting in my garage collecting dust.”

Sawyer laughed, the sound coming out lighter than he expected. The warmth in his chest had spread, overtaking the tightness from earlier. “Fair enough. I’m in.” Sawyer couldn’t believe his generosity and including him to ride with him. He had a friend, another one.

“Malik and Rowan ride too, so all four of us can do some riding.”

“Really. Do you think they would mind me riding with them?”

Malik and Rowan, carrying plates and silverware, quietly approached them from behind, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth.

“Hey, we want you to be part of our gang and ride with us,” Malik said.

“We sure do,” Rowan said.

“Thanks.”