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Chapter thirty-one

Sawyer

When they walked through the front door, Sawyer felt like he was dragging the weight of the whole day behind him. His feet shuffled, his shoulders drooped, and his head felt like it might explode with all the swirling thoughts. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that usually brought him comfort. Right now, it felt like a blank slate, waiting to be filled with anything but the chaos he’d just been through.

Clayton had been steady as ever, sticking close to him at the police station, his presence like an anchor as Sawyer handed over the statement he’d poured everything into. Every ugly memory, every shadowy threat, every moment of fear—it was all in that long document. And the questions. God, the questions. The officers weren’t unkind, but reliving it all? It was like ripping open an old wound that hadn’t healed right in the first place.

Now, though, they were home. Safe. That word felt fragile in his mind, like it might shatter if he looked at it too closely.

Clayton plopped down on the couch and patted the spot beside him. “Come on, sit.” His voice was gentle, but it wasn’t a suggestion—it never really was with him.

Sawyer let out a long breath and collapsed onto the cushions, sinking into the familiar, worn fabric. He stretched his legs out and leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. The silence wrapped around him, and for a second, he thought maybe he could just melt into the furniture and not have to think anymore. It had been hours since he had seen the police.

Sawyer’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, the sound breaking the stillness of the afternoon. He glanced at the screen, his heart giving a little jump when he saw the unfamiliar number. Hesitating for just a second, he swiped to answer.

“Hello?” His voice came out steady enough, though there was already a knot forming in his stomach.

“I’m looking for Sawyer Gallagher,” the voice on the other end said.

“This is Sawyer,” Sawyer replied, sitting up straighter. He recognized that voice—it was Officer Jones, the guy who’d grilled him hardest at the station. His mind started spinning, running through every scenario of why they might call him now.

“This is Officer Jones. We’ve made a few phone calls, including to the FBI, who already had a case file on them. I’m calling to let you know that the Oregon Police Department has arrested the people who kidnapped you.”

Sawyer froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the chest. For a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. Arrested. The people who had stolen his childhood, who had turned his life into a nightmare—they were behind bars.

The officer kept talking, his tone calm but matter of fact. “The other two boys were theirs by blood. Since they’re old enough now, they don’t need placement, but they will have to move. You can rest easy.”

Rest easy? Sawyer didn’t even know what that meant anymore. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl—relief, disbelief, anger, and something he didn’t quite have a name for. It was too much to process all at once.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, his voice hoarse. He ended the call, staring at the screen as the words replayed in his mind. They’re arrested. They can’t hurt me anymore. He hadn’t noticed leaving the room while he was on the phone.

Clayton’s footsteps echoed as he came into the room, holding two bottles of beer and handed one to Sawyer. He stopped when he saw Sawyer’s expression. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Sawyer looked up, his throat tight. “That was Officer Jones,” he said, his voice trembling. “The people who…who kidnapped me. They arrested them. They’re—” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. “They’re not going to hurt me anymore.”

Clayton was by his side in an instant, setting the beers down and pulling Sawyer into a hug. Sawyer let out a shaky breath, his head resting against Clayton’s shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt the faintest flicker of safety—real, tangible safety.

Sawyer turned to Clayton. “I have to call Mrs. Hartley.” He called her and let her know what information he had, then she told him the people they had thought were his parents were not. The kidnappers had stolen their identity to begin a new life. She was sad to tell him his parents were no longer alive. He thanked her and promised to visit.

“You’re free,” Clayton said softly, his arms tightening around him.

Sawyer’s eyes drifted shut, his breath hitching as the enormity of those words settled deep into his chest. Free. The word echoed hollowly in his mind, almost foreign. It didn’t feel true—not yet—but somewhere, buried beneath the ache, flickered the faintest ember of hope that one day it would.

“Mrs. Hartley…she told me…” Sawyer’s voice wavered, thick with sorrow. “My biological parents are gone. She didn’t explain much, just said a couple had stolen their identities. Probably after…” His voice broke, a tremor escaping as he pieced the awful truth together. “After they killed them. But she didn’t say that outright. If you knew her…she’d try to shield me from…that.”

Clayton didn’t let him fall into oblivion. “Hey,” he started, his tone careful but certain, “I was thinking…what if we took a month off? Just me and you. Ride up and down the coast. No work, no stress, just the open road.”

Sawyer blinked, turning his head to look at Clayton. “What about Timberline?” he asked, his voice rough from all the unspoken feelings.

“I’ve got backup,” Clayton said with a shrug. He was playing it cool, but there was something in his expression—something soft and hopeful that Sawyer hadn’t seen in a while. “It’s all covered. All you have to do is say yes.”

That’s when it hit him. The relief, the exhaustion, the sheer magnitude of everything he’d been carrying for so long. It all slammed into him at once, and before he could stop it, he broke. The tears came hot and fast, and he couldn’t hold them back. He covered his face with his hands, trying to smother the sobs that wracked him, but it was no use. He felt like a dam had burst, and all the pain, fear, and even the relief of being here, safe with Clayton, came pouring out.

Clayton didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just pulled Sawyer into his arms, holding him tightly as the storm passed. His touch was steady, grounding. Like he’d be there no matter what, no matter how messy it got.

When the tears finally slowed, Sawyer pulled back just enough to meet Clayton’s eyes. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want that. I want to go with you.”

Clayton smiled—a real, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Good,” he said simply.

Sawyer took a shaky breath, his hand resting over Clayton’s on his knee. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, his voice breaking just a little.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Clayton said, his tone as steady as his gaze. “I love you, Sawyer. More than anything.”

“I love you too,” Sawyer replied, the words tumbling out with surprising ease. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

The End