Page 5

Chapter five

Clayton

Clayton tightened his grip on the handlebars of his motorcycle, the engine purring beneath him as Sawyer settled onto the seat behind him. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and asphalt. He had chosen a small, cozy breakfast spot just outside the city, a place he thought would be perfect for conversation. He wanted to know more about Sawyer—where he came from, what made him who he was. There was something about the younger man that intrigued Clayton, a quiet resilience that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

As they rode, Sawyer’s arms wrapped loosely around Clayton’s waist, and Clayton couldn’t help but smile beneath his helmet. He liked the way Sawyer trusted him, the way he seemed to relax just a little more with each passing mile. When they arrived at the restaurant, Clayton parked the bike and helped Sawyer off, noticing the way his eyes lit up as he took in the quaint, sunlit patio.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden light on the restaurant patio. Over plates of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and coffee, Clayton studied Sawyer as he spoke. Sawyer’s voice was soft but steady. Clayton leaned back in his chair; his coffee cup cradled in his hands as he watched Sawyer across the table. Sawyer’s hair, a ginger shade of copper, seemed to glow under the sunlight, catching fire with every tilt of his head. Across the bridge of his nose and spilling onto his cheeks was a fine sprinkle of freckles, like a soft scattering of cinnamon. His face, so full of life and yet so gentle, brought a warmth to Clayton’s chest he couldn’t quite put into words. The younger man was picking at his pancakes, his gaze distant, as if he were gathering the courage to speak the next words. Clayton could sense the weight of whatever Sawyer was about to say, and he stayed quiet, giving him the space to share.

“So, uh…I grew up on a farm in Oregon,” Sawyer began, his voice hesitant. He glanced up at Clayton, as if testing the waters, before continuing. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t like a normal childhood, I guess. My parents were really strict. We were homeschooled, and they didn’t let us go into town much. It was…we were fenced in, you know? Literally and, like, figuratively.”

Clayton’s brow furrowed slightly as he listened. He could hear the tension in Sawyer’s voice, the way his words seemed to carry a heaviness that went beyond the surface. “Fenced in, huh?” Clayton said softly, his tone gentle. “That sounds…tough.” He fought being confined, but it had been nothing like Sawyer described. His parents wouldn’t have dared cage him in for any reason or any length of time. How was Sawyer able to live through it and talk about it?

Sawyer nodded, his eyes dropping to his plate. “Yeah. I had two older brothers, Cameron and Gavin. And they were always…I don’t know, louder, bigger, more everything. I just kind of got lost in the background. It felt like I was stuck in this cage, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get out.”

Clayton’s chest tightened as he watched Sawyer’s expression. He could see the pain there, the way Sawyer’s shoulders hunched slightly, as if bracing himself against the memories. Clayton wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, but he stayed still, letting Sawyer finish.

“One night, I just…couldn’t take it anymore,” Sawyer continued, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night. Didn’t tell anyone. Just…went. I ended up in Stockton. I met Mrs. Hartley. She rented me a room in her house. It was the first time I ever felt…free, you know?”

“I liked Mrs. Hartley. She was good to you.”

“She saved me,” Sawyer said, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “I got the job as a barista, and…well, it was the first time I’ve ever felt like I could just be me. Until I got fired, that is.”

Clayton nodded slowly, his mind racing. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Sawyer, growing up feeling so trapped, so unseen. And yet, here he was, sitting across from Clayton, having carved out a life for himself despite everything. Clayton felt a surge of admiration for him, mixed with a fierce protectiveness.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you, Sawyer,” Clayton said finally, his voice soft but steady. “But look at you now. You got out. You made a life for yourself. That takes guts. Don’t worry, there’s another job for you.”

Sawyer looked up at him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks,” he whispered. “It’s still kind of weird, though. Like, I’ve never really had a boyfriend or anything. I don’t even know how all that works.”

Clayton’s heart ached at the admission. There was something so raw and honest about the way Sawyer said it, like he was laying all his cards on the table. Clayton reached across the table, his hand brushing against Sawyer’s for a moment.

“Hey, that’s okay,” he said, his voice warm. “I like you, Sawyer. A lot. We’ll take things at your pace. No pressure.”

Sawyer’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “Thanks, Clayton,” he whispered. “That…means a lot.”

“You know,” Clayton smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over Sawyer’s knuckles before he pulled his hand back. “You’ve got the hair color people would write about. And those freckles? They’re like a map to everything good in the world.” He smiled as Sawyer glanced up, his cheeks coloring just enough to match his fiery hair. “But the best part,” Clayton added, his voice softer now, “is the way your smile can make the whole day better, sunshine, or no sunshine.”

Sawyer beamed then, his grin wide and unguarded, and Clayton was certain he’d never seen anything as radiant as Sawyer Gallager in that moment.

“Thank you, but you’re embarrassing me.”

“Okay, okay,” Clayton said. “Now, how about we finish up here and go shopping? I want to make sure you’ve got everything you need.”

Sawyer’s eyes widened slightly. “You don’t have to do that,” he blurted.

“I know,” Clayton replied with a grin. “But I want to. Come on, let’s go.”

Sawyer’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded, a shy smile spreading across his face. Clayton felt a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet determination to make sure Sawyer felt safe and cared for.

They spent the afternoon wandering through stores, Clayton patiently helping Sawyer pick out clothes, toiletries, and other essentials. He watched as Sawyer’s confidence grew with each item they added to their haul, the younger man’s laughter becoming more frequent, more carefree.

By the end of the day, Clayton felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He didn’t just hope to be someone Sawyer could count on—he wanted to be someone who helped Sawyer see his own worth. As they loaded the bags onto the motorcycle, Clayton caught Sawyer’s eye and smiled.

“Ready to head back?” he asked.

Sawyer nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Clayton…for everything.”

Clayton just grinned, ruffling Sawyer’s hair before they climbed onto the bike. As they sped down the highway, a strong wind buffeting them, Clayton couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something important. And for the first time in a long time, he was exactly where he wanted to be.