When the Fire Settled (edited chapter)

The fire had burned low inside the cabin, just a slow curl of flame flickering over the last logs in the stone hearth. The room smelled faintly of smoke and cedar, the warmth of the blaze soft against the walls. They hadn’t talked much since supper. A few comments about the food, a short laugh over Clyde nearly dropping the pan off the grill, and then… just stillness.

Tyler sat on the braided rug, one knee pulled up to his chest, hoodie sleeves half-pushed to his forearms. Clyde was beside him on the old leather couch, one boot off, socked foot planted on the floor. They were facing the fire, but neither of them was really looking at it anymore.

The wind outside whispered against the cabin walls. The pines creaked in reply, like they were saying something neither man had the words for.

Clyde shifted, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded. “You ever think,” he said quietly, “that silence feels more honest than half the stuff we say?”

Tyler glanced at him. “Sometimes. Yeah.”

Clyde nodded once, like that was all he’d meant to say, and maybe it was. But something hung in the air—weightier than the firelight, heavier than the day’s work. Tyler felt it between them, humming under the quiet like a thread pulled too tight.

He looked at Clyde again. The firelight danced on his profile—weathered, tired, solid. There was something open in his face now, not guarded like usual. Not strong, exactly. Just… real.

Tyler reached over and placed a hand on Clyde’s shoulder.

Just that.

Clyde’s shoulder was solid under Tyler’s hand—warm through the flannel, steady in a way that made Tyler’s chest tighten. He didn’t say anything. Just stayed there a moment, palm resting firm, thumb brushing once against the seam of Clyde’s shirt.

Then Clyde turned slightly, and their foreheads met—an accident at first, then not. They stayed there, eyes closed, breathing the same breath. Something fragile and holy hovered in that space between them.

Clyde spoke first, voice barely above a whisper. “I ain’t never let someone close like this.”

Tyler swallowed. “Me neither. Not like this.”

….

When it was done, they stayed close, breathing in sync, sweat cooling in the quiet. The fire had burned low, throwing long shadows up the log walls. Clyde lay on his back, eyes open, fixed on the ceiling like he was trying to anchor himself.

Tyler lay on his side beside him, hand still resting near Clyde’s chest, not quite touching now.

Neither spoke. There was too much to say.

And not enough language to say it.

…to be continued in “The Weight and the Wonder” later today

(Edited chapter from Still With You from the Tyler and Clyde series, contact me if you’d like to read the full story!)