Page 37 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)

Thunder Bats! Take The Field!

F riday

Joshua had arranged for a unified cookout dinner after the afternoon baseball game, though not without shelling out a substantial amount of cash.

He had bristled when informed of the extra cost, but there was really no alternative.

The original plan was to have David’s cooking class prepare this meal, but all Camp Pride counselors and campers were expected to be present at the game and mingle with their guests from Timber Ridge Campground for the duration of their stay. And they all had to be fed.

“Goddamn vultures!” Joshua grumbled as he scrabbled through the belongings in the drawer containing his wallet.

“Everything here is an extra two hundred dollars! I’m amazed they don’t charge us for breathing the air.

” He located his wallet buried under a pile of underwear and pulled out a credit card.

“This is extortion,” he grumbled. “I should report them to the FTC,” then spun toward the door at the sound of a loud knock.

“Problem in here?” David said, entering with an easy grin.

Joshua let out a disgusted huff, but David just smiled. “Ah, well,” he said. “What’s a community-building event without a little corporate shakedown?” He pulled a credit card from his wallet and waved it in the air. “I got this, Josh. Who’s charging me? Highway Robbery, Incorporated ?”

Joshua sighed, visibly relieved. “God, David, thank you. I’ve been shaking in fear of the petulant confrontation that would have ensued if I’d had to tell Colin we were tapping our bank account yet again because of Verdun. Their staff would have been in for an interesting morning.”

“Where is our beloved coach?”

“At the baseball diamond, pacing like a tiger.”

“In a knee scooter ?”

Joshua quirked his mouth and nodded. “He’s nervous as fuck about this game. He so much wants the boys to do well.”

“They’ll do fine. And he needs to remind himself that it’s not about winning. It’s about building relationships.”

“Ha!” Joshua barked out. “Tell Colin that winning doesn’t matter?” He tossed his wallet back into the drawer and moved to David’s side. “I’ll let you handle that.” He took David’s arm, steering him toward the door. “Let’s go pay these bastards.”

At the baseball diamond, Colin maneuvered his knee scooter back and forth in front of the small dugout, mentally creating, changing, reviewing, and revising his lineup.

In his hand was a small notepad upon which he had scribbled player names and positions, scratched them out, then scribbled them again.

“OK,” he mumbled, stopping to read. “Alex at shortstop. Grayson at first. Mateo at second …”

“Hey there, coach,” a familiar voice called out. “How’s the lineup coming along?”

“Christ, Trent,” Colin blurted, turning to greet his physical therapist. “Look at this, would you?” He held the notebook out to Trent, who scanned it, nodding. “I damn near put you in left field!”

“Colin, this looks great. Why are you agonizing over this? It’s just a friendly softball game between rival campgrounds.”

Colin leaned back and gave Trent a look of shocked disbelief. “Trent, there is no such thing as just a baseball game. It matters! They’ve trained hard for this. They deserve to win!”

Trent’s strong hand landed on Colin’s shoulder and squeezed. “Look, buddy, Rocky lost his first fight, remember? Didn’t make him any less of what he already was—a winner .”

Colin husked out a sigh and nodded. “I get it, Trent. I do. But, being content with losing is not in my DNA.”

Trent leaned toward him with a low chuckle. “Suck it up and cope. Now, c’mon, let’s go. It’s nearly noon, and we have to be there for the opening ceremonies.”

At exactly ten minutes before noon, the bus from Timber Ridge rumbled to a stop, kicking up dust as the campers inside pressed against the windows.

In the parking lot, Camp Pride’s staff and campers stood waiting, some shifting excitedly, others watching their soon-to-be rivals with careful curiosity.

At the front of the line, Colin maneuvered his knee scooter into position, arms crossed, surveying the scene like a general preparing for battle.

Beside him, Joshua blew out a slow breath, his hands clasped in front of him, reminding himself again and again that this was Colin’s show and that, even injured, he could handle any contingency.

The bus door hissed open, and the Timber Ridge campers spilled out, followed by their coach.

Joshua stepped forward, offering a warm smile.

“Welcome to Camp Pride! We’re glad to have you here today for some friendly competition, good food, and an exciting game of baseball.

” He shook the coach’s hand. “I’m Joshua Campbell-Abrams, Camp Pride Coordinator.

” He turned to Colin, who had moved to his side with Trent at his elbow.

“These are our two Thunder Bat coaches, Colin Campbell-Abrams and Trent Peterson.”

Timber Ridge’s coach, a sturdy man with a no-nonsense stance, gave a friendly nod as he shook each man’s hand.

“Coach Tate, Marshall Tate. Thanks for having us. We’re looking forward to a great game.

” There was some low growling from the Timber Ridge group as they surveyed their opponents, and one whispered something that drew a snicker from his teammates but was lost under the general shuffling of feet and low conversation from the assembled campers and staff.

Coach Tate turned to Joshua. “Who’s calling the game?”

“A neutral ump from Verdun.”

Tate nodded and moved to stand with his team.

Colin nudged Joshua’s shoulder as they stepped back and groused: “You should’ve just let David do it.”

“Oh Lord God,” Joshua muttered. “He’d have turned it into Shakespeare in the Park.”

“Who’s paying this neutral ump?”

Joshua shot him a do-you-have-to-ask look.

“ Peachy !”

Joshua gestured toward David, who lifted a box of prizes high above his head.

“Thanks to our very own David Gardener-Reese, we have prizes for today’s standout players—not just to salute their baseball skills, but also to honor their teamwork and good sportsmanship.

” A few of the players exchanged glances, eyeing the prize box with both curiosity and excitement.

Colin nudged his knee scooter forward and turned to face his squad. “Alright, Thunder Bats, before we hit the field, I want each of you to pair off with someone from the Timber Ridge squad. You’ve got sixty seconds to learn their name and the last show they binge-watched. Go. ”

A brief shuffle mingled the two teams. Some players immediately started chatting. Others, clearly not happy about the forced icebreaker, mumbled out one-word answers.

One Timber Ridge player smirked. “Name’s Eric. And I just binge-watched Breaking Bad .” His Camp Pride counterpart, Lucas, hesitated, then mumbled, “I’m Lucas, and I just watched Heartstopper .” There was a brief pause. Then … a low snicker and a snide, “Figures.”

Colin’s forehead furrowed. He didn’t comment or react; he simply watched. A few of the Timber Ridge kids exchanged looks. One nudged another with an elbow, but when Colin’s sharp eyes scanned the group, their amusement faded. He filed the moment away. Noted .

For the most part, the mingled name and TV show exchange went off without a hitch, and after allowing another minute or so for their meet and greet, Joshua clapped his hands. “All right, let’s head for the field! And remember this—you’re all winners.”

As the teams started filing toward the field, Colin tossed his notepad into the knee scooter basket, already mentally lost in lineup strategy. Joshua, walking beside him, murmured, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Colin snorted. “Give it ten minutes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got a couple homophobes on that team.”

“Oh god.”

“I’m on it.”

“Baby … please …”

“Josh, do not insult me by suggesting I’d do anything to purposely foul up this game. I won’t. But I also won’t tolerate any queer baiting or queer bashing—baseball or no baseball.” He stopped short and turned to face his husband. “Would you want me to?”

“No. I would not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

At the field, the team captains, led by the umpire, flipped a coin to decide which team was up first, with the Thunder Bats winning the toss.

First inning.

The sun hung high over the diamond, casting shadows across the infield as the Thunder Bats settled into the dugout.

Timber Ridge’s pitcher stood tall on the mound, arms loose, already exuding confidence.

At home plate, Lucas stepped up as Camp Pride’s leadoff hitter, gripping the bat tight.

Colin, balanced on his knee scooter near the dugout, watched in silence, notebook resting in the scooter’s basket.

First pitch—fastball. Lucas swung. A loud crack —but the ball launched high into shallow right field. The outfielder barely had to move before snagging the easy pop-up.

One out.

A few Camp Pride campers groaned but Colin, seemingly unfazed, spun to face his players. “Did you see how he ran toward that pop-up and caught it with both hands? Remember that!”

In the dugout, Jasper stood, rolling his shoulders.

“All right, no big deal, Jasp. We got this,” Trent called as Jasper stepped to the plate.

The pitcher set, nodded at his catcher, and delivered a curveball that dipped hard at the last second.

Jasper swung—and missed.

The count climbed—one strike, two strikes—until finally, on a full count, the pitcher reared back and sent a fastball screaming across the plate.

Jasper swung. Nothing but air. Strike three.

Two out.

Joshua, standing a few steps from Colin, squirmed uncomfortably. He resisted the urge to glance at his husband, who had yet to say a word.

Alex stepped to the plate, swinging his bat. The kid had been solid in practice, and Colin had placed him at shortstop for a reason. If anyone could get them moving, it was him. Alex dug his cleats in, rolling his shoulders. The Timber Ridge pitcher stared him down, winding up for the first pitch.