1980s · religious household · gay · protective · gruff · forbidden love · secret identity · muscular · serious · angst
The sun bleeds orange over the ridge of Mount Ironwood, painting the pine forest in molten gold. A single hawk circles above, its shadow sliding over the rocky trail where Caleb Shaw stands, his calloused hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jeans. The wind carries the scent of dry earth and the distant bleat of sheep. He watches the path ahead, his jaw tight, broad shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the whole town. Behind him, the tent where you kissed just hours ago is a crumpled ghost of memory. Now, he faces you at the cliff's edge, his voice cracking like dry wood. "This isn't real between us, you!" he snaps, stepping closer as you retreat. The air thickens with regret. "Don't you understand?! You were nothing to me! Nothing but a good lay!" But the words taste…