Page 7

Chapter seven

Clayton

After a long day of work at the campsite, Clayton and Sawyer were both ready to unwind. Clayton had a surprise in mind. “How about we visit the winery nearby?” he suggested, his voice warm with anticipation. Sawyer’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. The golden hues of the setting sun painted the vineyards in a soft, amber glow and the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of earth and grapes. Clayton couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm wash over him. He glanced at Sawyer, who seemed equally enchanted by the serene landscape.

As they stepped inside the winery, cool, fragrant air greeted them, a mix of oak barrels and ripe grapes creating an inviting atmosphere. The tasting room was cozy, with a handful of visitors scattered around, their laughter and murmurs blending with the soft clink of glasses. Clayton led Sawyer to the bar, where a friendly attendant welcomed them with a smile. The first pour was a bold red, and Clayton watched as Sawyer swirled the glass, sniffed it, and took a tentative sip. His expression was one of curiosity and concentration, and Clayton couldn’t help but smile.

“What do you think?” Clayton asked, almost teasing.

Sawyer shrugged, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “It’s…intense. Not bad, though. I think I like the lighter ones better.”

Clayton laughed, nodding in agreement. “Fair enough. I’m more of a fan of deeper flavors, but I get it.” They continued tasting, each glass sparking a new conversation. Sawyer made a face at a dry white, calling it “too sour,” and Clayton grinned, admitting it wasn’t his favorite either. There was an ease between them, a shared rhythm that made the moment feel special.

As they sipped and chatted, Clayton noticed something in Sawyer’s eyes—a mix of nostalgia and hesitation. He decided to tread carefully, sensing there was more beneath the surface. “Did you like the campgrounds?” he asked.

Sawyer nodded. “Very much.”

“I hope you like it as much as I do,” Clayton replied.

Sawyer hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I’ve never been camping before.”

Clayton’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? On the farm, didn’t you ever sleep outside in a tent?”

Sawyer shook his head, his expression growing somber. “No. We weren’t allowed to have mess around with any type of activity away from the home.”

Clayton’s heart ached at the thought. “Was it a religious thing?” he asked gently.

“No,” Sawyer replied, his voice quiet. “They were far from religious.”

Clayton could sense the unspoken pain behind Sawyer’s words. He reached out, placing a hand on Sawyer’s arm. “I don’t understand why they homeschooled you and banned you from leaving the farm,” he said.

Sawyer looked down, his shoulders tense. “Just family secrets. I don’t want to talk about them. It was upsetting to live through it, and now I just don’t want to talk about them.”

Clayton nodded, his touch reassuring. “Okay. I’m here anytime you want to talk about it,” he promised.

Sawyer glanced up, his eyes searching Clayton’s for a moment before he changed the subject. “When does Lodi Pride Camp begin?” he asked, his tone lighter but still carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“Tomorrow,” Clayton replied, his voice steady. “We’ll be there for a week. If you feel pent up or overwhelmed, let me know, and we’ll leave or take a walk. Whatever you need.”

Sawyer smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I’m not worried about that. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be clingy.”

Clayton’s heart swelled at Sawyer’s words. “You’re not clingy,” he said firmly. “I want you to feel comfortable, to feel like this is your space too.”

As they finished their tasting, Clayton selected a few bottles to take home—a robust red for himself and a lighter, fruitier option for Sawyer. The attendant at the counter smiled as she handed over the bag, and Clayton felt a sense of contentment settle over him. They made their way back to the motorcycle, the cool evening air brushing against their faces as they rode home.

When they arrived, Sawyer immediately made his way to the living room, sinking into the couch with a sigh of relief. Clayton followed him, his heart full as he watched Sawyer relax into the space. “Hey, Sawyer,” he said, “do you want anything to drink or munch on?”

Sawyer shook his head, a peaceful smile on his face. “No. I’m just relaxing in here. I love this room.”

Clayton sat down beside him, his voice tender. “I want you to feel at home. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love to share my space with you.”

Sawyer looked at him, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I’ve never felt this peaceful and content in a home before,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clayton reached out, taking Sawyer’s hand in his. “You deserve to feel this way,” he said, his voice steady and full of emotion. “And I’m here to make sure you always do.”

In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them wrapped in a quiet, unspoken understanding. The warmth of the room, the soft hum of the evening, and the connection between them created a sanctuary—a place where both of them could truly be themselves.

Clayton fixed his eyes on Sawyer and held his hand. Sawyer’s shoulders were tense, but his expression was calm. Clayton admired Sawyer’s quiet strength, the way he carried himself with a kind of resilience that seemed to defy the weight of the world, the one he’d had to endure on the farm. But tonight, there was something different in him—a vulnerability that Clayton hadn’t seen before.

“Sawyer,” Clayton began, his voice soft but steady, “I’ve got to ask you something. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But…were you ever with a man before?”

Sawyer’s head turned slightly, his eyes meeting Clayton’s. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his lips pressed together in a thin line as if he were weighing his words. Then he exhaled, a slow, measured breath, and looked out through the window over the fields beyond. “No,” he said finally, his voice low but clear. “I’ve never been with a man. But I always knew I was gay. Always.”

Clayton nodded, his heart aching at the quiet certainty in Sawyer’s voice. He could see the tension in Sawyer’s jaw, the way his fingers flexed nervously. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about this, Clayton could tell. Life on the farm, surrounded by his brothers and the expectations of a family who imprisoned their children, hadn’t given Sawyer much room to breathe, let alone be himself.

“How’d you know?” Clayton asked gently, his tone free of judgment. He wanted to understand, to give Sawyer the space to share as much or as little as he wanted.

Sawyer’s gaze dropped to the ground, his boot scuffing at the rug. “Just…knew,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t something I figured out one day. It was always there, like…like the color of my eyes or the way I walk. It’s just me. But out there, on the farm, with my brothers…it wasn’t safe to be me. I was fenced in, Clayton. Fenced in by all of it—the work, the expectations, the way folks talk. I couldn’t let myself think about it too much, let alone do anything about it.”

Clayton’s chest tightened as he listened. He could see the pain in Sawyer’s eyes, the way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if carrying a burden he’d never been allowed to put down. Clayton wanted to reach out, to pull him into an embrace and tell him he was safe now, that he could be himself without fear. But he stayed where he was, giving Sawyer the space he needed.

“I get that,” Clayton said after a moment, his voice thick with empathy. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you. But…you’re here now. And you don’t need to hide any more, not with me or at camp.”

Sawyer’s eyes shifted back to Clayton, and for the first time, there was something softer in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or relief. “I know,” he whispered. “And I appreciate that. More than you know. But…it’s still hard, Clayton. Even now. I know what I want, and I want it to happen soon, but…it’s like I’m still trying to break free of something. Like I’m still fenced in, even if the fence isn’t there no more.”

Clayton nodded, his heart breaking for the man sitting beside him. He could see the conflict in Sawyer’s eyes, the way he was torn between the life he’d always known and the life he wanted to live. “You don’t need to rush anything,” Clayton said gently. “You take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere, Sawyer. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Sawyer’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. “Thanks, Clayton,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “That…that means a lot.”

They sat there in silence for a while, the only sound the rustle of the wind through the trees. Clayton could feel the weight of Sawyer’s words settling between them, but it wasn’t a heavy weight—it was the weight that came with honesty, with trust. And as he looked at Sawyer, at the way the fading light caught in his hair and the way his eyes seemed to shine with a quiet hope, Clayton wanted to take away all of Sawyer’s pain. The emotion nearly took his breath away.

“But you might need to start teaching me because I don’t know how to get things going in the bedroom.”

“Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?”

He didn’t push for anything more, stopped asking. He just sat there, a steady presence, letting Sawyer know he was seen, that he was valued, exactly as he was. And for now, that was enough.