Page 24

Chapter twenty-four

Clayton

The gravel crunched under Clayton’s boots as he and Brody made their way toward the mess hall. A gentle breeze tugged at the edges of Clayton’s shirt, and for the first time in a long while, he felt happy and complete with a purpose. His hands dangled from his sides, one gripping an empty tote bag ready to be filled with sides and desserts for tonight’s dinner. He glanced over at Brody, who was fiddling with the edge of his baseball cap, tilting it back and forth like he couldn’t quite find the perfect angle.

“You know,” Brody started, breaking the comfortable silence, “James told me he’s giving Sawyer a motorcycle.”

Clayton’s eyebrows shot up. He slowed his pace slightly, letting the words sink in. “He’s giving it to him?”

“Yeah,” Brody confirmed, a hint of awe coloring his casual tone. “Said he’s been working on it for a while now. Figured Sawyer could use it to get around. Especially if we’re planning to go riding more often.”

Clayton let out a low whistle, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s…damn generous of him.”

Brody nodded, his gaze fixed ahead as if he were imagining the scene. “James told me since I helped him get to where he is today, plus I gave him a motorcycle to ride, he wanted to help Sawyer.”

“See, you taught James so much. You helped make him who he is. I’m impressed with both of you. And thank you,” Clayton replied thoughtfully, shifting the tote bag to his other hand. His mind wandered as they walked, piecing together everything he’d learned about Sawyer since they’d met. He was like a closed book at first—hard to read, hard to reach—but there was something about him that made Clayton want to keep trying. And now, here he was, slowly peeling back the layers.

Clayton’s mind raced with questions—Was Sawyer ready for this? Was it safe?—but they were quickly eclipsed by the wave of pride and joy that surged through him. Sawyer had grown so much in a week, and this was a moment of pure independence and adventure.

“You know,” Clayton paused for a minute, “Sawyer didn’t have the kind of childhood most of us had.”

Brody glanced over, curious. “What do you mean?”

Clayton hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to share. He wasn’t sure why, but Sawyer’s past felt fragile, like an old photograph you had to handle gently. “He grew up on a farm,” Clayton began, keeping his tone casual. “Big place, but fenced in. He wasn’t allowed to leave much—not for school or friends or anything. His parents homeschooled him, so…it was just him, his two brothers, and the farm animals.”

A sympathetic expression clouded Brody’s face, and a slight frown reached his lips. “That’s gotta be tough,” he said. “No friends at all?”

“None,” Clayton confirmed, shaking his head. “Not until he came here.”

The mess hall came into view, its doors propped open to let in the summer breeze. The sight of their shared accomplishments filled Clayton with a quiet joy. He glanced at Brody. “He’s happy here, though. You can see it. Meeting everyone during Pride—it was like a whole new world opened up for him.”

Brody nodded. “Guess that motorcycle might be more than just a ride for him, huh? Could be his way to finally”—he gestured vaguely, searching for the right words—“I don’t know, get out, explore a bit.”

Clayton smiled; a warm feeling settled in his chest. “Yeah,” he said, his voice carrying a note of pride. “James gets it. He’s good like that.”

They reached the mess hall, stepping into the cool air that smelled faintly of roasted potatoes and sweet cornbread. The tables were lined with trays of food, each one more enticing than the last. Clayton and Brody grabbed the tote bags they’d brought and began filling plastic containers with potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw, and an assortment of pies—apple, pecan, and cherry.

As they worked, Clayton couldn’t help but glance around the room. It was quiet now, the buzz of Pride week having settled into a calmer rhythm. But the energy lingered, like a heartbeat pulsing in the background. He thought about Sawyer again, picturing him standing by the grill with James, probably still trying to wrap his head around the motorcycle offer.

“It’s funny,” Clayton said, breaking the silence, “how life works out sometimes.”

Brody paused, a spoonful of macaroni salad halfway to a container, ready to pack it in the tote bag. “What do you mean?”

Clayton chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he packed a container of baked beans. “Sawyer’s whole life was about staying put. Not much freedom, not much choice. And now he’s here, surrounded by people who genuinely care about him. And James—he’s just giving him that bike, no strings attached. It’s like…the universe knew Sawyer needed this.”

Brody nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool and I’m proud of James.”

They finished packing up the food, the tote bags now brimming with sides and desserts. As they made their way back toward the picnic area, Clayton felt a quiet sense of fulfillment. He glanced at Brody, who was walking beside him with an easy stride, as they so often had done when hiking.

“Thanks for telling me about the motorcycle,” Clayton said, his voice genuine. “It will mean a lot—to Sawyer, I mean.”

Brody shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. “Just glad it’s going to the right person.”

Clayton’s thoughts drifted back to Sawyer, to the way his face lit up whenever he talked about the guys he’d met here. It wasn’t just about the motorcycle—it was about everything. About the connection, the belonging, the chance to be part of something bigger than himself. As they approached the picnic area, the smell of barbecued chicken growing stronger with every step, Clayton felt a quiet confidence settle over him. Tonight was going to be good. Not just because of the food, or the beer, or the stories they’d share—but because Sawyer was finally finding his place. And that was worth all the effort in the world.

Mark and Jeff caught up with them on their way to the picnic area.

It was one of those evenings where everything just clicked—crickets humming in the background, a soft breeze rustling the leaves, and the smell of grilled chicken drifting through the air. Clayton took it all in, his chest tightening with a kind of happiness that didn’t come around often.

All the owners and their boyfriends were there, just how he liked it. Only this time, he wasn’t alone and had someone he truly cared about with him. Sawyer was sitting cross-legged on the big plaid blanket, looking relaxed as he and James were talking.

“Time to eat,” Clayton shouted.

Brody, being Brody, gave the chicken a dramatic once-over like he was judging a five-star meal before nodding like it passed the test. Mark was off to one side, laughing at Rowan, who was balancing a plastic cup on his nose like it was a serious talent. By the grill, Jeff and Malik were debating whether spicy BBQ sauce or tangy honey mustard reigned supreme.

This was the kind of night that reminded him why he poured so much of himself into this camp. These guys weren’t just friends anymore—they were all part of one family. A wild, weird, loving group of guys who had each other’s backs.

Dinner had come together like magic. The grilled chicken was perfectly juicy, filling the air with a smoky scent that made everyone’s stomach growl. There were enormous bowls of coleslaw, baked beans, and creamy macaroni salad, all lined up like some kind of picnic treasure chest. A basket of warm dinner rolls sat at the center of it all, and Clayton had even remembered to bring out an assortment of pies; homemade peach cobbler, apple, pecan, and cherry pie which everyone had been eyeing all of them since he’d mentioned it earlier.

As they all settled in to eat at the picnic table, Clayton sat beside Sawyer. He glanced at Sawyer’s face sprinkled with freckles. There was something about him—a quiet strength, that spark of determination just under the surface. Clayton would always feel protective of him, like he wanted to shield him from the world, but he’d also push him to shine. And nights like this? They made all the hard stuff worth it.

“Clayton,” Sawyer said. “I want to tell you something.”

Clayton paused mid-bite, intrigued. “What’s up?” he asked.

Sawyer glanced over at James, who gave him a subtle nod. With a wide grin, Sawyer announced, “James is giving me his old motorcycle. Can you believe it? And…I’m going to ride with the other guys!”

“That’s amazing!” Clayton exclaimed, his voice carrying genuine excitement. He reached over to tap Sawyer’s shoulder, his grin as wide as the horizon. “A motorcycle, huh? Guess you’ll be leaving me behind in a cloud of dust!”

Sawyer laughed, his eyes shining. “I mean, I’ll still stick around,” he said with mock seriousness. “I just think it’d be cool to ride with the guys sometimes, and you too.” Sawyer winked.

Clayton turned to James, who was sitting nearby with a serene smile, clearly pleased with Sawyer’s reaction. “James, you’re something else,” Clayton said. “Thank you for thinking of Sawyer like this. It means a lot to him—and to me.”

James shrugged. “Figured it’d be better off with someone who’d love it as much as I did,” he said. “Sawyer’s got that spark. He’ll be great.”

Clayton nodded, feeling grateful. It wasn’t just the motorcycle; it was the gesture, the belief in Sawyer’s potential that got to him.

The group fell into friendly conversations, the kind that flowed naturally among people who knew each other’s quirks and rhythms. Brody recounted an amusing mishap at the camp earlier in the week, involving a squirrel and an ill-fated attempt to secure the recycling bins. Mark chimed in with his own story, about Rowan’s relentless pursuit to prove he could start a campfire with only two sticks and a shoelace.

“Don’t forget the part where I actually succeeded!” Rowan protested, prompting laughter from everyone.

Jeff and Malik, still locked in their barbecue sauce debate, finally called for a vote. Clayton grinned as he declared honey mustard the winner, earning a triumphant cheer from Malik and a mock scowl from Jeff.

As the plates emptied and all the pies were devoured, the conversation turned to the Lodi’s Pride Camp costume party planned for the last day. It was a cherished tradition, a celebration of community, creativity, and the vibrant spirit that made their camp so special.

“We need to go all out this year,” Brody said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’m talking about wild colorful costumes—the works!”

“Agreed,” Mark said. “Rowan, you should be in charge of the music. Your playlists are legendary.”

Rowan turned bright red. “I accept this responsibility,” he said grandly. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Jeff suggested he’d love to be in charge of taking pictures. Malik proposed a karaoke and a dancing contest.

Clayton listened with a sense of quiet satisfaction. These were his people, working together to create something beautiful, something that would bring joy to everyone at the camp.

As the conversation flowed, Clayton thought about the journey that had brought them here. The campgrounds were more than a place; they were all part of the dream realized. And tonight, around this picnic table, he felt the weight of that dream—not as a burden, but as a gift.

Fireflies appeared, their tiny lights flickering like stars come down to earth. The laughter and chatter continued, blending with the music of the night. Clayton leaned back, his heart full.

Life wasn’t perfect, but in moments like this, it felt pretty close.

Body and James made a fire and everyone sat on blankets.

“What are we going to do on these blankets?” Sawyer asked.

“We’re going to play Truth or Dare. Do you know how to play it?”

“No, I don’t.”