Page 24 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)

Colin just stood before them, grinning, arms still crossed. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

“I don’t believe the handstand thing, Colin,” Nico challenged. “That’s a lie!”

Colin leapt to his feet and pointed at Joshua. “Time me.”

Joshua sighed, already pulling out his phone. “You love this, don’t you!”

But Colin was already in motion, flipping smoothly into a handstand, his body steady as a statue. The campers erupted in cheers and laughter as the seconds ticked by.

“Five seconds left,” Joshua announced finally. “And I hate it that you’re making this look so damned easy.”

Colin held the position until Joshua called time, then flipped back to his feet with a triumphant grin. “Nice try, Nico.”

A boy named Bobby groaned, shaking his head. “OK, that was cool. But I still think you’re lying about the goat.”

Colin smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He flipped it open and held it in front of Bobby’s face. “A picture of me and the goat.”

Bobby squinted, then burst into laughter. “No way!”

Grinning, Colin pulled the picture out and handed it to him.

“Pass it around.” As the campers eagerly took turns looking at it, he sat back down beside Joshua.

“And trust me, Joshua has never beaten me at baseball.” He shot Joshua a teasing glance and leaned toward the group conspiratorially. “And he never will.”

Joshua rolled his eyes as laughter rippled through the circle.

Colin gestured toward the picture that was making its way around the fire. “That damned goat was a mascot for one of the UVA frat houses, kappa beta … I dunno … something . The damned thing grabbed a student’s backpack and wouldn’t let it go until I put it in a headlock.”

“You’re wearing a cop uniform,” one of the campers pointed out.

Colin nodded. “I was a UVA Campus cop back then.”

There was a brief pause, and then another camper hesitated before asking, “Did you ever shoot anyone?”

Silence fell over the campfire. Colin felt the weight of their curiosity, but this was a question that police officers were used to hearing.

He peered around at the curious, expectant faces.

“No,” he said finally. “I never shot anyone.” He let the words sink in, then leaned in and added: “But I did see people get shot. And I was shot myself. In fact, I damn near died.”

There was a collective inhale, and a few campers’ eyes grew wide.

Colin looked around the circle, meeting their gazes, his expression somber.

“And I can tell you this: Getting shot isn’t like the movies.

It’s not heroic and it hurts like all bloody hell.

” He let that sink in, the firelight gleaming in the quiet.

“Believe me. It isn’t anything you ever want to experience. ”

The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as the fire cast long shadows across his face.

From the other side of the circle, Alex’s voice broke the silence. “Was Josh with you when you were shot?”

Colin shook his head. “No. I was on duty. Josh was at Rainier… seeing patients.” His voice was steady, but there was something distant in his gaze, as if he could still see it all unfolding. “But he was by my side almost from the moment I reached the hospital, and he never once left me.”

Joshua’s fingers tightened around Colin’s. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet but edged with remembered pain. “Unless I was forced to.” For a moment, it felt as if nothing else existed except that memory—the long, endless hours of fear, of waiting, of helplessness.

“Where were you shot?” Evan asked.

Colin pointed to his thigh, then glanced around at the group. “Wanna see?”

“Colin!” Joshua burst out in protest, jolted from his painful reverie as nearly the whole circle responded with, “YEAH! Show us!”

“They’re boys , Josh,” Colin said with a grin. “Gay or not, they’re curious about stuff like that.” He lowered the left side of his sweat pants, exposing the long, jagged, red-rimmed scar covering his thigh.

Many, if not most, of the boys crowded around Colin as he stood by the fire, his leg exposed.

“Bullet went in right there,” he said, pointing. “Shattered my thigh bone and ripped my femoral artery. That’s what damn near killed me. I almost bled out at the scene.”

“What saved you?” one of the boys asked, reaching out a tentative finger.

“A friend,” Colin told him. “A fellow police officer put a tourniquet on my leg. Saved my ass.” He noticed the boy’s finger.

“You can touch it. It doesn’t hurt.” He paused, then went on more slowly.

“What did hurt…,” he said quietly, gesturing toward Joshua, “… was thinking I might not make it back to him .”

Several of the campers touched the jagged scar, and sounds of ‘ Wow !’ and ‘ So cool !’ echoed around the campfire.

“OK,” Colin said, pulling up his sweats. “Now that I’ve done a strip tease ...” He glanced around. “Anyone else wanna do another Two Truths and a Lie?”

“Would anyone be able to top that story?” Trent asked.

“It’s not a contest,” Colin said, grinning. He pointed at Trent. “That’s how I met Trent. He was—still IS, I guess—my physical therapist.”

“Was he a bad patient?” one of the boys asked with a giggle.

“The WORST !” Trent bellowed. “Oh my god, whine, whine, whine. Never heard anyone whine so much about a tiny little flesh wound.”

Colin shot him a scowl, and Trent grinned. “Kidding! It wasn’t a flesh wound.” He leaned toward the campers. “But the part about being a whiney little bitch? Totally true. Just ask Josh.”

The campers turned to Joshua expectantly, but instead of jumping in with a joke, he was silent.

His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on the fire, the glint of the flames accenting the tears in his eyes.

Colin’s grin faded as he looked over at his husband.

He didn’t need to ask what was wrong—he knew.

Josh can’t joke about this . Not this . His hand captured Joshua’s and squeezed tight.

Joshua exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself, before finally speaking, his voice quieter than usual. “He didn’t whine all that much … except when you were around.” He indicated Trent, and then the group. “Who’s next for Two Truths and a Lie?’”

Colin lifted Joshua’s fingers to his lips. “Sorry, darlin’,” he whispered, and Joshua nodded, leaning against him.

Several other campers tried Two Truths and a Lie, and then Nate’s raised voice echoed through the clearing. “OK. It’s ghost story time!” He shot a quick glance at David. “And I’m first!”

After a half hour of ghost stories and, at Nate’s insistence, several verses of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”, Joshua got to his feet. “OK. It’s getting close to lights out. Let’s end our first campfire with a Farewell to Pain ceremony.”

He signaled to Nate, who immediately sprang to his feet, grabbing a stack of small notepads and pens from a nearby bag. He moved around the circle, handing one to each camper.

“Each of you will write down something painful that you want to leave behind by the time camp ends,” Joshua said, his voice low.

He gestured toward Nico and Evan. “Maybe loneliness. Or not having a friend. Or maybe fear of being who you are. Or maybe just plain fear !” His gaze swept across the group.

“Whatever’s been weighing on you, whatever’s held you back or scared you—write it down.

No one else will see it. No one will know what you want to leave behind.

This is just between you … and the person you’re trying to become. ”

The only sound was the occasional pop of the fire as the campers bent over their pages, pens scratching against paper.

Joshua waited a beat, then continued, his voice softer.

“When you’re ready, toss your paper into the fire.

Watch it burn. Watch the embers float away into the night sky.

” He let his gaze drift upward, following the sparks that flickered against the darkness.

“And when you do, say good-bye to that painful memory. Let it drift away.”

One by one, the campers stepped forward, crumpling their papers and tossing them into the flames.

The fire flared briefly with each new offering, sending tiny embers spiraling into the air.

Some campers whispered or nodded as they let go of their burdens; others simply watched in silence, their faces illuminated by the fire’s glow.

Colin reached over, snagging a notepad from Nate. Without a word, he scribbled something down, then rose to his feet. The campers watched as he stepped forward and tossed his paper into the fire, the blaze curling around it in an instant. He turned back to the group, his expression unreadable.

“I just want to add this,” he said finally, his voice carrying over the sputter of the fire.

“None of us know what someone else might have gone through in their lives. What kind of pain they may carry around inside. They might have been bullied or abused. They might have been mocked or tormented in ways we can’t even imagine.

I got shot. But someone else’s wound may have been way more painful than mine, even if the scars aren’t as easy to see.

” He leaned toward the circle of campers.

“So, let’s also get rid of our tendency to judge, to criticize, to exclude, or to disapprove.

” He pointed at himself. “I’m an ex-cop and a current prosecutor.

Judging people is what I do for a living.

” Then he pointed at the fire. “But not this week.”

A few campers applauded. Others nodded in quiet agreement.

Colin met Joshua’s gaze for a brief moment, then sat back down beside his husband and took his hand.

Joshua turned and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” Colin whispered, then he drew in a long inhale, watching the firelight dance across the faces of the campers.

“All right,” Colin said after a long pause, his voice carrying just enough authority to get their attention. “Let’s head back before I have to write up a bunch of rule-breakers on our very first night.”

A chorus of groans and dramatic sighs followed, but the campers got to their feet, stretching and brushing ash from their clothes, still buzzing with the warmth of the fire and the night’s shared moments.

As they began their walk back to the cabins, the only sounds were the crunch of footsteps on the trail and the distant chirp of crickets. Then, out of nowhere?—

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer …”

Laughter rippled through the group as Nate’s voice rang out against the night sky. A few campers joined in while others groaned in protest.

Colin groaned. “Oh my god, not again! ”

Joshua smirked. “Well, you did give him your permission.”

“Is it too late to take it back?”

Joshua clutched his arm, laughing, as the group disappeared into the woods, their off-key singing echoing into the night, blending with the rustling leaves and the sound of the nearby stream.