Page 3

Chapter three

Sawyer

Clayton had the most piercing blue eyes Sawyer had seen with a mix of warmth and mystery. His beard was neatly trimmed and matched his sandy brown hair hanging slightly tousled. Sawyer noticed Clayton wore suspenders over his white button-down shirt. A leather necklace with a small charm, a keepsake from someone important, hangs around his neck.

Sawyer sat on the back of Clayton’s motorcycle, his hands gripping tightly around Clayton’s waist as the wind whipped past them. The hum of the engine vibrated beneath him, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. He wasn’t used to this—the speed, freedom, uncertainty. But Clayton had been the one to stand up for him when no one else would. When the bikers had hurled insults at him, when they injured him and when gotten him fired from his job, Clayton had stepped in, his voice sharp and commanding, his presence enough to silence them. Sawyer had felt small and broken then, but Clayton had looked at him like he was worth protecting. And now, here they were, riding away from Stockton, toward something unknown.

The landscape blurred as they sped down the highway. Sawyer’s eyes darted across the passing scenery—the golden fields stretching endlessly, the occasional cluster of trees, the distant hills hazy under the afternoon sun. He caught glimpses of farmhouses, their roofs peeking out from behind rows of crops, and the occasional sign for Lodi, their destination. The air smelled faintly of earth and exhaust, a strange mix that somehow felt comforting. He wondered if he’d made the right decision, leaving everything behind to follow Clayton. But what else was there for him in Stockton? Nothing but memories of humiliation and loss. Clayton had offered him a way out, and Sawyer had taken it, even if it meant trusting a man he barely knew. He would miss Mrs. Hartley, but she had told him she planned to move to Southern California to be with her sister next month. So, he would have had to move anyway. Mrs. Hartley told him he was more than welcome to move with her to her sister’s if he wanted to move away.

When Clayton pulled into a rest stop, Sawyer’s legs felt shaky as he dismounted. Clayton turned to him, his eyes scanning Sawyer’s face with concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and steady. Sawyer nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he was. Clayton placed a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, a gesture that was both reassuring and grounding. “We’re almost there,” Clayton said, his tone softening. “Just hang in there, kid.”

They stopped at the restroom, then both drank water before leaving.

Back on the road, Sawyer’s thoughts swirled like the dust kicked up by the motorcycle’s tires. He wondered what Clayton’s home would be like, what kind of life awaited him there. When they finally arrived, Sawyer’s breath caught in his throat. Clayton’s house was nestled in the woods, a sturdy structure with a bright red door and matching shutters that stood out against the white wood and greenery. The home looked warm and inviting, with a welcoming glow from the windows, unlike the stark, imposing fence of his family’s farmhouse in Oregon. Clayton’s home shouted freedom from the rooftops instead of confinement like the farm. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

Clayton led him inside, and Sawyer was surprised by how orderly everything was. The house felt lived in but cared for, a reflection of Clayton himself—rough around the edges but with a quiet sense of stability. The living room was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in streams of natural light. A leather sofa sat in the center, flanked by two armchairs, all in neutral tones of brown and beige. A coffee table held a few motorcycle books and a half-empty bottle of water. The walls were adorned with pictures of Clayton on his motorcycle on different trips. A large, ornate rug tied the room together. It was clean, stylish, and personal—very much Clayton’s taste. Sawyer searched the walls for pictures of a boyfriend, but Clayton was always alone.

Clayton led him to a small room at the end of the hall. “This is yours,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “Make yourself at home.”

Sawyer hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the bed. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Clayton nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

“I’ve got to head out for work,” Clayton said, “but I’m having Rowan come and stay with you. He’s a good guy and gay, so don’t worry. He’ll keep you company. I don’t want you alone right now.”

Sawyer nodded, though the idea of being left alone with someone new made his stomach hurt. Clayton had protected him before, and though he didn’t know him at all, Sawyer believed he wouldn’t leave him in bad hands.

“Give me your phone and I’ll add my number in case you need me.”

The two exchanged phones and Clayton added his number to Sawyer’s contacts.

“Thanks, Clayton.”

“I have food and drinks in the kitchen. Eat or drink whatever you want.”

As Clayton walked out the door, Sawyer sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the trees out the window. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he’d made the right choice. Gay friends would be nice.

Sawyer was alone in Clayton’s home, the quietness of the house pressing in on him like a heavy blanket. He’d been pacing the living room, trying to shake off the restlessness that had settled in his chest when the doorbell rang. His heart skipping a beat, he froze. He hesitated for a moment before walking to the door and peering through the peephole. Clayton had mentioned something about sending someone over, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Standing on the porch was a guy around his age with tousled blond hair and bright blue eyes. He looked…normal. Not like the kind of person Sawyer had expected Clayton to hang around with. It must be Rowan. He looked…harmless. Friendly, even. Sawyer cracked the door open, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Hey,” the guy said, flashing a casual smile. “I’m Rowan. Clayton sent me to keep you company. Said you might be bored out of your mind.” Sawyer stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Uh, sure. Come in.”

Rowan settled onto the spotless sofa, the faint scent of lavender and freshly laundered fabric filling Sawyer’s senses as he sat down in the armchair. He wasn’t sure what to make of Rowan yet. He seemed easygoing, but Sawyer wasn’t great at small talk. He crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair. “So, how do you know Clayton?”

Rowan laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Through Mark. Mark’s my boyfriend. He’s Clayton’s best friend—well, his adopted brother. They’re pretty much inseparable.”

Sawyer nodded slowly, filing that information away. He hadn’t heard Clayton mention Mark, but then they had had little time to talk. He wondered if there was a boyfriend in the picture for Clayton. “Got it. So, you’re, like, part of the whole…crew?”

“Something like that,” Rowan said with a grin. “I’ve been around, staying with Mark, then I’m heading back to L.A. after Lodi Pride Camp. I love it here with Mark, honestly. It’s chill. But sometimes I miss dancing back in L.A. Used to going out all the time, just losing myself in the music, you know?”

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Dancing? Like, at clubs?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Rowan said, his eyes lighting up. “It’s the best feeling. You ever been?”

Sawyer shook his head. “Not really. I was raised on a farm in Oregon. Never was allowed to venture out.”

“How did you meet Clayton?”

“I work…used to work…at a coffee shop in Stockton. He stopped by. ”

Rowan leaned forward. “Interesting. But hey, if you ever change your mind, I could teach you some moves. It’s fun, I promise. You might even like it.”

Sawyer couldn’t help but smirk at the offer. The idea of him, of all people, trying to dance in a club was laughable. But Rowan’s enthusiasm was kind of infectious. “I don’t know, man. I’d probably just embarrass myself.”

“Nah, you’d be fine and you’re cute,” Rowan said, waving a hand dismissively. “Hey, everyone starts somewhere. Besides, it’s not about being good. It’s about having fun. You should come out with me and Mark sometime. We’ll show you a good time.”

Sawyer hesitated, his mind racing. Going out with Rowan and Mark sounded…intimidating. He wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, and the thought of being around a bunch of strangers in a loud, crowded place made him nervous. But he couldn’t deny that he was curious. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to do something different for once.

“I’ll think about it,” Sawyer said finally, his tone noncommittal. “But no promises.”

Rowan grinned, clearly taking that as a win. “Fair enough. Just let me know. We could do something low-key first. Maybe grab some food, hang out. No pressure.”

Sawyer nodded, feeling a small flicker of relief. “Yeah, that sounds…okay.”

As they continued talking, Sawyer relaxed a little. Rowan was easy to talk to, and his laid-back demeanor made the conversation flow naturally. For the first time in a while, Sawyer didn’t feel like he had to put up a front or overthink every word. It was nice. Maybe, just maybe, having Rowan around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Let’s sit outside. Clayton has a nice yard with a swimming pool.”

“Really?”