Chapter 16
The Patterns We Carry
Andrew
The campsite buzzes with activity as I arrive, but I find a quiet moment to set up the fire. Starting fires is second nature to me. Growing up, my siblings and I fought over who got to light the furnace at home. Fires are a way of life in Alaska, and I've probably lit hundreds of them by now.
So far, the trip goes great. Meeting Gary's friends feels a little overwhelming—there are so many—but everyone welcomes me like I've been part of the group forever. It's nice. Unfamiliar, but nice.
I meet a few people I hope to reconnect with later, though I struggle to remember everyone's names in the whirlwind of introductions.
Aubrey, the loud and funny one, immediately captures my attention with his booming laugh that seems to carry across the entire campsite.
He's a part-time commercial actor with a coffee gig on the side, and he tells me between sips of beer that he just shot a local car dealership commercial where he had to pretend to be incredibly excited about financing options.
Wayne, a giant of a man with a baseball cap seemingly glued to his head, speaks little but has a presence you can't ignore. He stands near the fire pit, his shadow stretching long across the grass, occasionally nodding along to conversations but rarely contributing more than a grunt.
Eli, dark hair with tattoos up to his neck, has a sharp confidence and an easy sense of humor that makes my shoulders relax.
He catches me staring at his intricate sleeve tattoos and explains without prompting that each piece represents a different chapter of his life, though there seems to be some subtle tension between him, Aubrey, and Todd that I can't quite decipher.
I notice how Aubrey's laughter dims slightly when Eli approaches, and how Todd's eyes narrow when Eli makes a joke at Aubrey's expense, the dynamics shifting like tides I'm not yet familiar with.
Eli flirts with me a few times, but it feels playful, not serious. What catches my attention more is his dynamic with Wayne. Eli practically lights up around him, but Wayne barely notices. It's... relatable.
As the sun dips lower, I lean back on the log I've claimed as my seat and poke at the fire with a stick. The crackling warmth settles over me like a familiar blanket.
"Oh, shit. For some reason, I don't expect you to be the one starting the fire."
The voice slides over me, warm and familiar, and I know it's Vince before I even look up.
A grin spreads across my face as I tilt my head back. He's standing there, bathed in the orange glow of the firelight, a soft smile playing on his lips. I shift over on the log, making space.
"Why not?" I ask, my own smile widening.
Vince settles beside me, bundling himself deeper into his jacket, hands shoved into his pockets. He shivers slightly, a small movement that betrays his California acclimation. Too long out of Minnesota.
"I don't know," he says, his gaze drifting over the campsite. "Figured I'd find you hanging on to your mom."
"My mom?"
Vince laughs, a low rumble that vibrates through the log, and nods toward Gary, who's holding court with a group nearby, his gestures animated. I laugh too.
Fair enough.
"You didn't mention coming to this yesterday on our run," I point out, deflecting.
"I wasn’t sure I could make it." Vince nudges me with his elbow, the contact sending a jolt through me. "Did you bring Ted? Am I ever meeting that guy?"
"No." I shake my head, staring into the flames. "He's not coming. I guess he's not into camping. It's just me."
"Sam's not here either. She had to fly to New York for work."
"You're usually with your kids on the weekend."
"Yeah. They're visiting Kaitlynn's parents in Minnesota." He shrugs, a small gesture. "So I get to be Casual Vince."
"Casual Vince?"
He laughs, but his eyes remain fixed on the little fire I've made, the flames dancing in their depths. "Yeah, you know..." His voice trails off, lost in the crackle of the fire, and I wonder what thoughts flicker behind his eyes.
"As in, you're not playing Dad Vince or Boyfriend Vince?" I guess.
He glances at me, grinning. The soft brown of his eyes pulls me in before I can stop myself. "Exactly."
I'm glad I've started the fire early. It really does get chilly once the sun goes down.
The party around us grows louder, but Vince and I are now the only ones at the fire. Everyone else is drinking, socializing at the picnic tables, or dancing to music playing faintly from a distant speaker.
Vince, who usually attracts a crowd wherever he goes, stays right there with me. No one interrupts us. We sit in comfortable silence, watching the flames flicker and twist over the logs.
Vince is the first person in my life, aside from my siblings, with whom I can share a silence that doesn't feel awkward. Even during our weekday runs or early morning drives, we often don't say much. I love that about him.
As I sit there, watching the firelight dance across his face, I think about what he'd said earlier about playing different roles. Maybe that's why I like it. Maybe I'm being Casual Andrew, letting my guard down. Just being.
"Hey, Andy?" Vince says, breaking the silence.
I smile into the fire. I love the way he says my name, like it's something special. "Yeah?"
"What book are you reading right now?"
"I'm not saying. You're just going to make fun of me."
He's already smiling. "Tell me."
"It's still John Stein—"
He laughs, sitting up straight and slapping his knee. "How are you always reading Steinbeck?"
I roll my eyes but can't help smiling back. "I told you, I reread his books a lot. Right now, it's Of Mice and Men."
"It's so dry. It’s so goddamn depressing."
I laugh, looking over at him. "I guess I like dry and depressing, then."
"Fucking weirdo." The words fall from his lips, but the look in his eyes sends goosebumps racing up my arms.
"Is that why you're really out here?" he teases, his voice light. "You doing some weird Grapes of Wrath journey to California? Great film, by the way. Still depressing."
I frown, but a smirk tugs at my lips. "What? No. I came out here to try and open a yoga studio."
"Did you really, though, Andy?"
My smile fades.
Vince possesses this innate ability to read people, to see right through them. I guess it's some kind of actor skill, studying people is part of the job, after all, but... it throws me off every time. He always seems to know exactly what I don't want to say.
"No," I admit quietly.
He doesn't press. He just smiles, like he's already known what I was going to say.
"I thought so."
That's all he says before going back to watching the flames. His decision to drop it right there floors me. He gets it. He isn't going to pry. Relief sweeps through me.
How am I supposed to find another man like Vince? I can't. It isn't possible.
The campsite quiets as night deepens, and Vince and I sit by the fire in a comfortable silence. Flames flicker, mesmerizing, and I let myself get lost in their trance. As a kid, I could sit for hours watching fire dance, the crackling warmth nature's version of television.
Vince leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he rubs his hands together.
His leg rests so close to mine I can almost feel its warmth through the fabric of our jeans.
Firelight illuminates his face, highlighting the strong angles of his jaw and the unexpected softness in his expression.
He looks... beautiful. Too beautiful. I could stare at him all night, but feeling like a bit of a creep, I break the silence.
"Vince, are you still cold? I can make it bigger."
His smirk immediately makes me regret my phrasing. "What did you say?"
"Grow up. You know I meant the fire," I say with a grin, tossing another log onto the flames.
I poke at the ashes with a stick I'd set aside earlier, trying to ignore the way Vince's eyes linger on me. When I glance at him, he's still watching, his gaze steady and playful.
I look back at the fire, my stomach doing flips.
This is dangerous territory. We’re sitting way too close for any of our usual games of eye contact.
He's just teasing, always teasing, but I secretly like the attention. I just wish it didn't give me a false sense of hope that I constantly have to keep in check. Whenever Vince looks at me like that, I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of something I can't name.
Gary's voice echoes in my head, a reminder that this is just a game for him. I tell myself he'll get bored, that he'll eventually move on to something else.
Vince isn't single, and neither am I. This is just how he is—playful, easygoing, flirty in a harmless way. The problem is the stupid thread of hope I can't seem to let go of. It complicates everything. I'm forever struggling to keep it together around him.
My eyes drift toward Gary, who stands at the picnic table across the campground.
He talks animatedly, hands gesturing wildly while his husband, Frank, stands by his side, steady as always.
I watch as Frank gently takes Gary's whiskey glass from him, probably to stop him from spilling it everywhere, and kisses him on the temple.
The casual affection between them is so natural, so effortless.
They're adorable, like newlyweds who have never stopped being in love. That's what I want, what I hope to find someday. A partner who will stand by me, who'd be my person no matter what.
Without warning, Vince scoots closer, closing the tiny gap of cold air that had separated us.
His leg presses against mine, warm and solid.
He leans in, just enough for me to feel his breath on my ear.
Goosebumps shoot up my arms as I clench my fists inside my pockets, trying to steady myself.
His voice is low, even lower than usual.
"Can I ask you a private question?" he whispers, the words a hot current that electrifies my skin.