Page 16 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)

After a long pause, Alex reached down and picked up the ball. He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers along the seams, his gaze darting between the ball and Colin’s face.

From his place at the window, Joshua held his breath.

Then, finally, Alex tossed the ball—an underhanded, cautious throw, but a throw nonetheless. Colin caught it without breaking eye contact, giving the kid an approving nod.

“Nice one,” Colin said, and lobbed the ball again—this time, right to Alex.

The young man flinched, startled, but his hands came up instinctively, catching the ball against his chest. For a second, he just stared at it, then at Colin, as if trying to decide whether he’d just been tricked or if this was a genuine offer of … what ? Something Alex could not yet define.

Colin only grinned. “Think you can get it past me?” he challenged, smacking his glove. “C’mon, kid. Give it your best shot.”

Alex’s fingers clenched around the baseball. His shoulders tensed, then without another word, he drew back his arm and let it fly.

Joshua’s heart slammed against his chest as Colin caught it easily.

“Wow!” Colin said, a warm laugh spilling from his lips. “That’s some arm you’ve got there! Do you play on a team?”

Alex swallowed hard. For a moment, he stood in silence, staring at the man who stood ten feet away. He glanced behind himself to the nearby door as if gauging his ability to escape, then turned back to Colin. “No,” he said. “I don’t play on a team.”

“Too damned bad,” Colin told him. “You’re good! I’d have you on my team in a hot second.” He held up the softball. “So, what’d you say? Have a catch with me?”

Joshua watched Alex, unaware that his own fists were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. The boy took a tentative step towards Colin. “I—I don’t have a glove,” he stammered out.

“Here!” Colin said, moving slowly to where Alex stood. “Take mine.” He offered the glove, his face alight with his usual engaging grin.

Alex hesitated again, his gaze moving between Colin’s face and the glove. Joshua could see the war waging inside him—the part of him that wanted to take the offering, to trust, warring against the part that had spent too long learning not to.

Colin didn’t push. He simply held the glove out, easy and patient, as if he had all the time in the world.

After another long beat, Alex reached out and took it. The leather looked a little too big on his hand and the glove was stiff from disuse, but he flexed his fingers inside it, testing the feel.

Colin took a slow step back, then lobbed the ball underhand, a soft, easy throw.

Alex caught it. A little clumsy, but he caught it.

Joshua released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Colin grinned. “Not bad. Now, let’s see if you can still get it past me.”

A flicker of something—interest? challenge?—passed over Alex’s face. He shifted his weight, adjusted his grip on the ball, and then threw. This time, it was sharper, more deliberate.

Colin caught it with ease. “Great throw, pal,” he said, tossing it back. “Oh, by the way. I’m Colin. What’s your name?”

“I’m Alex,” the boy responded.

Colin gave him a nod, warm and easy. “Good to meet you, Alex.”

Joshua watched, his heart swelling with something close to awe. This wasn’t just a game of catch. It was something more. It was connection, conversation—one without words, without pressure, just the quiet rhythm of friendship being offered and slowly, tentatively, accepted.

Alex’s throws grew steadier, his movements less guarded. He wasn’t just tossing the ball anymore; he was engaging, responding, watching as Colin bent over, swaying on his feet in anticipation of his throw, smacking his fist into his palm.

To Joshua’s astonishment, Alex grinned and bounced the ball in his hand before tossing it once again, harder this time.

Colin let the game unfold at its own pace, letting Alex’s body language guide his every move.

He didn’t praise every throw, didn’t overdo it with encouragement.

He simply played, giving Alex space to sink into the moment, to believe—for just a little while—that he was safe and completely accepted for who he was.

As Joshua watched, Alex stepped further onto the grass and threw the ball with real force. Colin backpedaled and nearly tripped, one extended hand barely catching the ball. “Holy crap, Alex!” Colin sputtered, and to Joshua’s shocked amazement, Alex threw back his head and laughed. Laughed !

Joshua swallowed against the lump rising in his throat.

He’d tried to reach this kid, using every tool at his disposal and failed spectacularly.

But Colin? Colin had cracked the door open with nothing more than a ball, a glove, and the effortless warmth of someone who knew exactly when to speak and when to let silent acceptance do the talking.

Laughing along with Alex, Colin fell to the ground, the ball still clutched in his hand.

“No fair!” he teased, then sat up on the grass and tossed the ball into the air, catching it in one hand.

“Let’s take a break.” He patted the grass next to him, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Alex moved to his side and sat down near him.

“Thanks for having a catch with me,” Colin told him.

Alex gave him an uneasy smile and offered the baseball glove.

“Nah,” Colin said, waving away his offer. “You keep it. I’ve got others.” He tilted his head toward Rainier Clinic. “You seeing someone here?”

Alex nodded, and Colin nodded too. “My husband works in there. It’s a great place.” He leaned closer to Alex as the young man murmured something too low for Joshua to hear. He saw Colin respond, reaching to rest a large, comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

And for the first time since meeting Alex, Joshua felt a glimmer of hope, not just for Alex, but for the small miracle of trust being created, one catch at a time.