After about an hour of talking, Clayton decided it was time to tell her something that was weighing heavily on him. The potential deal breaker. He walked over to the kitchen, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. In the back of a cupboard, he found what he was looking for, a bottle of whiskey.
"Oooh!" Camden exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. "What's the occasion?" she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
Clayton's gaze met hers, a mix of apprehension and sadness in his eyes. "I don't think you'll be smiling after I tell you," he replied, taking a long swig from the bottle.
Camden's face fell, and her playful demeanor shifted. "Oh, shit..." Camden's face fell. "Give me that," she said, reaching up for the bottle. "Something tells me I'm going to need this too," she frowned. "You might," Clayton said, handing the bottle over with a pained expression. Camden took a big swig, gagging and pulling a face at the taste. "Ugh..." She moaned, shaking her head. Clayton reached back down for the bottle and took another enormous swig. Camden was morbidly impressed by the fact that he was able to drink it without any change to his facial expression.
Clayton resumed his restless pacing in front of the fireplace, the whiskey bottle clutched tightly in his hand. He avoided making eye contact with Camden, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. Finally, he mustered the courage to speak.
"Earlier, you mentioned that you don't know whether I want a family," Clayton began, his voice tinged with hesitation. "I do," he continued, taking another swig from the bottle. "Well, so do I," Camden interrupted, seizing the opportunity to ease his worries. Her smile radiated warmth and understanding. "Let me finish," Clayton insisted, his tone heavy with sadness. "I do want a family, I always have. I wanted to create the family I never had, but I can't."
Confusion and concern crept into Camden's expression. "You can't?" she asked gently, her voice laced with empathy. "I don't understand. You can't because you don't want to? Or you physically can't?"
Clayton ran a hand down his face in frustration. "Fuck... I can't believe I have to have this conversation with you," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor. Taking a deep breath, he met Camden's eyes and revealed his truth.
"It's not that I don't want to have children," he confessed, his voice strained. "Physically, I can't." He watched her face intently, searching for any hint of emotion, but she remained stoic, listening intently.
"When I was twelve, I had what you might call a 'sporting accident'," Clayton continued, his words tinged with bitterness. "Basically, a baseball thrown by a full-grown werewolf hit me square in the nuts. The doctors said I'll never be able to have kids as a result." He took another swig of whiskey. Camden reached up for the whiskey bottle and took another swig, her face betraying her distaste for it. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the raging storm outside.
"Well, say something!" Clayton blurted out, unable to bear the tension any longer.
Camden sighed, her expression calm. "Think of all the free time we'll have to travel the world," she said, a small smile gracing her lips. "I assume all the equipment still works, right? It's just that babies are a no-go, correct?"
Clayton let out a sigh of relief, realizing the depth of her understanding. "The equipment works just fine, thank you," he quipped, a flicker of a smile forming on his face. He couldn't help but admire her strength and acceptance in the face of this revelation.
Camden shrugged nonchalantly. "You aren't upset?" Clayton asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. He couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief at Camden's composed reaction to his news.
"I'm not upset," Camden replied, her voice steady and reassuring. "I would have liked a family, but if this is the card we've been dealt, then obviously it's not meant to be. We could always consider adopting, but I feel like that's a conversation for the future. It's not like you HAVE TO have children for your life to be full and complete. It's your own job to make your life full and complete," she said, her words carrying a sense of wisdom and acceptance.
Clayton was taken aback by her perspective. The weight that had been pressing on his shoulders began to lift, replaced by a newfound hope. He flopped down next to Camden, resting his head on her shoulder, and handed her the whiskey bottle. She took another swig and handed it back to him.
"Sorry about your nuts though, that's fucking brutal" she said with a pained expression. "It was fucking brutal," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and dark humor. He took another swig from the bottle, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through him.
"You smell good," Clayton murmured, his words muffled against Camden's shoulder.
She chuckled softly, her hand gently running through his hair. "So do you," she replied, her voice filled with affection. They both turned their attention back to the dancing flames in the fireplace, the crackling fire providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation.
The storm raged on outside, but within the cabin, a sense of calm and understanding enveloped them. Clayton reached for the blanket he had pulled out earlier and wrapped it around both of them, cocooning them in warmth and comfort.
In that moment, as they listened to the thunder and wind, Clayton couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the woman by his side.