Page 40 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)

The Timber Ridge shortstop stood off to the side, hands tucked in his pockets, head tilted downward.

Not out of place, but uncomfortable. The weight of his earlier mistake wasn’t hanging quite as heavy, but Alex knew what it was like to wonder if you belonged.

To wonder if you were good enough. To hate yourself for …

well, for damn near everything. His expression changed …

shifted … joyful surprise, morphing into determined resolve.

He set his jaw, and before he could talk himself out of it, he strode to Eric’s side and shoved the bat against his chest.

Eric fumbled, unsure of what was happening, eyes flying wide. “What the?—?”

“You had the biggest balls out there today,” Alex said. “The bat’s yours.”

A wave of surprise spread through the campers, Timber Ridge and Camp Pride alike. They had not expected this, and there was a moment of stunned silence.

Eric hesitated, gripping the bat tightly. His expression changed—disbelief filling his eyes. “I—I don’t—” he choked out, then simply stared at Alex, his eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t make it weird,” Alex cut in, grinning as he nudged Eric’s elbow with his own.

For a moment, Eric stared down at the bat; then he lifted his eyes to Alex’s face. “Thank you,” he whispered. “This means a lot, man.”

Alex nodded, and the two players bumped fists.

Near the edge of the group, Colin watched in silence. His lips formed a soft smile, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

Joshua, standing beside him, leaned in. “Did you see that?”

Colin turned toward him, then bent and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Sure did.”

Joshua huffed out a laugh and nudged his husband. “That kid must have a great coach!”

Colin smirked. “No coaching to it. That was all him .”

As the campfire crackled, the night settled in, and the revelry continued. No longer rivals, Timber Ridge and Thunder Bats had become something different, something better. They’d become teammates and hopefully friends.

After an hour of eating s’mores around the campfire, playing catch in the moonlight, and gazing in awe through Trent’s telescope, the campers began to gather up their belongings. The day was winding down. It was time for the Timber Ridge team to return to their camp.

Colin and Joshua sat in front of the campfire, Joshua on the ground, leaning back against his husband, both of Colin’s arms around him. Colin’s fingers traced gentle circles on Joshua’s forehead, bending now and then to press a soft kiss to his hair.

Alex and Eric had volunteered for clean-up duty and were meandering around, filling a plastic trash bag with the litter scattered around the campfire area.

They had moved past this afternoon’s incident and were chatting about baseball, comparing their coaches’ strategies and teaching techniques.

Eric reached for a discarded glow stick, then paused to watch as Joshua smiled up at Colin, reaching to caress his sandy hair while Colin smiled back, his eyes radiant with love.

“Man,” Eric said, pausing with the gleaming stick in his hand. “No offense, Alex, but I’d turn gay if it would get me what they’ve got.”

Alex scoffed out a soft laugh. “Trust me. Not many gay guys have what they’ve got.”

Eric nodded. “He’s pretty cool, your coach.”

“The coolest.”

Notably missing from that late afternoon campfire gathering were David and his cooking class.

Tomorrow was the most significant event to be held at Camp Pride, an event in which they played a pivotal role: Trent and Jeff’s wedding.

They had created the wedding cake itself that morning, and it now stood proudly on a preparation table in the campground kitchen, a three-tiered masterpiece covered with white buttercream icing.

To everyone’s shock, the cake layers were the same height and absolutely level.

But now came the hard part: It had to be decorated.

David clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of the eager group gathered around the table.

“All right, gentlemen,” he said, with a soft smile, “this is where we turn a plain old white cake into a wedding masterpiece. And by ‘masterpiece,’ I mean something that won’t look like it’s been attacked by a sugar tornado. ”

A few snickers echoed through the kitchen, but the boys quickly got to work. Tristan took his time piping small heart shapes around the middle tier, his tongue sticking out in concentration. “This is harder than I thought,” he muttered, pausing to examine his slightly wobbly attempt.

“Keep going,” David encouraged. “Weddings are about love, not perfection. Besides, fondant covers a multitude of sins.”

Meanwhile, Damian had been entrusted with placing the tiny groom figurines on top. He hesitated, squinting at the small figures, resplendent in their black suits. “Do they need to face forward?”

“Not necessarily,” David said, setting down his piping bag. “How do you think Jeff and Trent would stand if this were real?”

Damian thought for a moment, then turned the figures slightly toward each other so that they almost seemed to be exchanging a quiet, happy glance. “There. That looks better.”

David smiled. “Perfect.”

At the other end of the table, Bryce and Sean, chosen because they had the best ‘icing handwriting,’ worked on piping the wedding phrases inside the large hearts. Bryce finished “Two Haerts, One Love” with a flourish before leaning back with a grin. “There. Nailed it.”

Sean peered at it, then pointed. “Uh … you spelled ‘hearts’ wrong.”

“Oh, fuck ,” Bryce squeaked, then shot a sheepish glance at David, who laughed and waved away his concern.

“Don’t worry.” He handed Bryce a sharp, pointed knife. “Gently scrape it off and try again. The great thing about icing is that it’s as forgiving as I am.”

By the time they finished, the cake looked beautiful—not flawless, but filled with charm and love, every heart and letter a reflection of the hands that had created it. The campers stepped back, admiring their work, and walked around the table to view the cake from every possible angle.

Cody wiped a bit of frosting off his cheek and grinned. “I think Jeff and Trent are going to love it.”

David chuckled. “I think you’re right.” He allowed his class a moment of self-congratulation, then he clapped his hands again.

“OK, group! You did a fantastic job, and I’m very proud of all of you.

Let’s call it a night, but please remember, we have to be up at 8 a.m. to help set up for the wedding! ”

The last bus pulled out of the parking lot, headed for Timber Ridge Campground, its occupants hanging from every window, waving and yelling their good-byes.

Joshua stood next to Colin, watching as he waved and cheered, offering a thumbs-up to the youngsters who called out his name.

But as the bus rounded the bend and disappeared from sight, he slumped over his knee scooter, bowing so low that his head nearly touched his arms.

Alarmed, Joshua slid both arms around him. “Hey!” he burst out. “Colin? Honey? Are you OK?”

Colin sighed out a long, moaning breath as he eased himself to his full height. “I’m fine.”

Joshua’s hand tightened on his arm. “Are you in pain?”

Colin turned and gazed at him, his eyes filled with exhausted disbelief.

“Right,” Joshua said, then took his arm. “C’mon, darlin’. Lean on me if you like. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Can’t lean on you and this thing, too,” Colin said with a slow smile. “I’ll be OK with this,” he said, tapping his scooter. “I’ll lean on you once we hit the bed.”

“You really overdid it today,” Joshua grumbled, still holding Colin’s arm as they moved toward their cabin.

“Did I really have a choice?”

They heard feet pounding toward them and turned to see Trent, racing to join them. “Hey!” he said, stepping in front of Colin’s scooter.

Colin stared at his physical therapist, his mouth quirked in annoyance. “Trent, I’m tired.”

“Exactly my point,” Trent replied. He gripped the front of Colin’s scooter and bent toward him. “Take a pill tonight.”

Colin reared back, returning Trent’s stubborn stare in silence.

“I’m talking as your PT now. You were all over the fucking place today. It’s not just the pain, Colin. It’s the risk of complications. Just take one .”

Colin’s teeth drew back over his upper lip.

“I mean it, Colin!”

Colin sighed. “I’ll think about it.” He gave Trent a gentle nudge. “Now get the fuck out of my way. I’m beat and I have to play Pastor Campbell-Abrams at a wedding tomorrow.”

Trent threw a pleading look at Joshua, who stood just behind Colin with a hand on his shoulder. Joshua remained silent. Trent sighed and patted Colin’s back as he turned away. “Great game today, Coach.”

Inside their cabin, Joshua helped Colin ease out of his clothes and settle into bed. As he drew the blankets over him, Colin grabbed his arm and pulled him down beside him. “I know you’re biting your tongue. Might as well just say it.”

“No.”

“Josh, it’s OK. Just say it.”

Joshua looked away, and his head gave a taut shake.

“I’ll take one .”

Joshua visibly wilted, collapsing against Colin until his head touched his husband’s chest. “Thank god !” When he lifted his head, his dark eyes were smoky with tears.

“You don’t have to do that,” Colin told him as Joshua moved to the dresser to grab one of Colin’s pain pills. “You don’t have to force yourself not to talk about it.”

“I promised you. I swore I’d never push you again.”

Colin shrugged and took the pill from his hand, reaching with the other for a bottle of water that sat on the bedside table. “Suggesting that Trent might be right isn’t pushing.”

“Colin, may I ask you something about this issue?”

Colin looked up at him as he swallowed the medication, eyebrows raised.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Colin didn’t look away, but something in his expression altered—an almost imperceptible crack in the warrior’s armor he wore so well. His fingers curled around the edge of the blanket, twisting the fabric like it might hold the answer for him. Finally, he exhaled a long, slow breath.

“Because if I told you, you’d worry.” His voice was quiet, rough at the edges. “You’d carry it too. And I didn’t want you to carry it too. It was enough that I carried it.”

Joshua’s lips parted, but Colin lifted a hand.

“No, let me finish.” He dragged that hand over his face before resting it on his stomach, eyes on the ceiling.

“Back when I got shot, when I was lying there in that hospital bed, you looked at me like … like your whole damn world was crumbling around you. I’d never seen so much pain and fear in a human face, and god knows, as a cop, I’d seen plenty of frightened, hurting people.

” He gripped Joshua’s arm and leaned closer.

“I—I never want to see that look on your face again.”

Joshua’s breath caught, his eyes staring into Colin’s.

“I know you, Josh. If I told you every time I was hurting, every time I struggled, you’d hold onto it like it was yours to fix.

And this is something that no one can fix.

Like you said, it’s part of my DNA.” He gave a tired half-shrug.

“So, I figured … why put you through it? If I could handle it myself, then maybe … maybe you wouldn’t have to feel that fear again. ”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with things unsaid.

Joshua’s hand slid to his cheek, guiding Colin’s gaze back to his own.

His dark eyes were wet but steady. “We’ll handle this part of your life any way you want us to handle it.

But know this: I’m always going to worry about you.

You can’t prevent that. And I don’t need you to protect me from it—what I need is that you let me carry it with you.

” He swallowed, his voice thick. “I don’t care if I can’t fix it.

That doesn’t matter. There will be lots of problems in our lives that can’t be fixed …

that have just to be endured because they are a part of life that can’t be changed.

What matters—what matters to me —is that whatever pain either of us has, we don’t have it alone. We share it.”

Colin searched his face for a long moment, then Joshua gave a small smile and leaned towards him. “Trust me. I can take it.”

Colin gave him a slow, soft smile, then nodded. “OK, bud.”

Joshua let out a breath—one part relief, one part something else. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and murmured, “OK.”

In the space between words, something unspoken passed between them—not an end to the struggle, but the promise that they’d face this together.