Page 5 of Puppy Pride (Pride Camp 2025)

Chapter Five

Jai

“ P ride Camp, this is Jai.” I squinted at my laptop, debated getting up to close the blinds so the sunlight wasn’t hitting the screen at a bad angle, and then decided being able to see outside was more important.

“Jai…Prasad…?”

My skin prickled. Coming back to Mission City had always been a risk. In that instant, it didn’t feel worth it. I cleared my throat. “Yes. May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

“It’s Arnav!”

No missing the excitement.

“Arnav Mehta.”

I blinked. “Arnav?” I only knew one Arnav and his last name was Mehta. “How are you?”

“I was going to ask you that question. Like, how the hell are you ? As opposed to why the hell didn’t you tell me you were back in town? ”

A question he essentially just asked.

“I’m good. Busy, but good. I’ve only been in town for two months.” I both winced and held my breath.

“Right. Well, summer camp would keep you busy. I’m just surprised I didn’t know.” With just the slightest tinge of hurt.

“I haven’t really told anyone. I wanted to get settled first, you know? My focus has been on the campers. This is our first year in operation, so plenty of kinks to work out.” Really? I just used the word kinks for fuck’s sake.

“Understandable. And I haven’t spotted you—but then I wasn’t looking either.

Back then…we drifted… My bad, really. I was so focused on law school, and I just wasn’t paying attention, and then one day I realized we hadn’t spoken in a while and I tried calling, and your number was disconnected.

I seemed to recall you’d gotten a job with a big finance company, but I couldn’t remember which one—”

“All good.” Because I wasn’t going to explain the weird journey my life had taken.

Or what had me turning tail and running from Vancouver.

From British Columbia. To the other side of the country.

But I could provide an explanation for my return.

“Pride Camp was hiring a new director, and I figured I could put my finance degree to good use.”

“Yeah, they’re lucky to have you. I can barely add.”

A bit of an exaggeration—but math hadn’t been Arnav’s strength. No, his ability to smooth talk anyone had been his gift. I’d always thought salesperson would’ve been an exceptional backup career if this law thing didn’t work out. “How’s lawyering?”

“Good. Keeping me out of trouble. Hey, I saw your parents last month. They didn’t say anything about you coming home. Of course they were too busy putting down gay people. You know before I could even say anything, Samara was right there, standing up for her baby brother and his husband. ”

“I remember Samara, and wait—” I rubbed my forehead. “Did you just say you’re married?” I wasn’t even going to try to explain why my parents hadn’t said anything to him. Something about me being dead to them. If they knew I was running Pride Camp, they’d lose their ever-loving shit.

Arnav chuckled. “Yep. Almost six months. Go figure, right? An older man, at that. A gorgeous, sexy, slightly older man who’s glaring at me right now.”

Slightly older? I wasn’t going to ask. And somehow I’d envisioned him alone as we spoke. I hadn’t said anything I was uncomfortable with, but I found the idea of him having someone there listening vaguely disconcerting.

“Oh, sorry, I should’ve mentioned Foster before now. Look, why don’t you come over? Say Monday night?”

“The camp…”

“You don’t get a night off? We can make it another—”

“It’s fine. Actually, I’m only here for emergencies at night. I live on the property. But one night away will be fine.”

“Great. I have a new house. Yes, I finally moved out of my parents’ basement.”

A distinctive chuckle quietly reverberated through the phone.

“Oh hush, you.” Arnav again laughed. “Foster’s one to watch. He comes across all quiet and shy, but beware. Once he knows you, he’s got a wicked sense of humor.”

“Really?” I didn’t know a Foster .

“Yes. So consider yourself warned. Can I text you my address to this number? Or do you want to write it down? Oh, or I can send an email—”

“Text is fine.” This time, I chuckled. Arnav always had a lot to say. And had to say it quickly, given how many sisters he had .

I’d spent a lot of my youth in that house.

A pang for having left my friend behind resonated in my chest.

You could’ve told him. He would’ve understood. He wouldn’t have judged.

All things that were very true. And water under the bridge at this point. Still… “Uh, Arnav?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gay.”

“Uh, Jai?”

“Yeah.”

A long pause. “I want to say I figured because you’re the director of Pride Camp—although we both know any qualified person could do the job.”

“True.”

“But I’ve sort of mostly and yeah kind of known since you were about fifteen.”

My stomach plummeted.

“I never said anything. I didn’t figure it was my place. And you didn’t do anything specific…” He cleared his throat. “Foster is amazed at my inarticulateness.”

I still held my breath.

“I wasn’t attracted to you. And you were clearly, firmly in the closet. And I also might’ve been wrong. I wasn’t willing to screw up a friendship. I hoped, if you ever came out, that you’d feel comfortable telling me.”

“Yeah.”

“And you just have, so we’re good. Right?”

“Yeah.” See how simple that was? You could’ve done it fourteen years ago and saved yourself the heartache .

Except if I’d come out in high school, there would’ve been hell to pay.

When my secrets had been revealed, the shitstorm I’d expected had materialized.

Only it had been so very much worse than I expected. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Oh, we have a friend coming over as well. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Even as I said the words, though, I longed to pull them back. Truly, I couldn’t think of a single person I wanted to see. Well, his sisters would be okay, but he’d said friend and not family . “What can I bring?”

“Yourself. Oh, and be prepared for puppies.” With that, he cut the line.

Dogs?

Oh God, does he know?

Breathe.

Who would’ve told him? And if he did know—because of some painful quirk of the universe—wouldn’t he have said something?

Again, I reminded myself to breathe.

Not so easy to do.

I logged out of the system, shut my laptop, and gazed out the window.

Grey and Makenna were down by the water with the campers. The plan was to do some canoeing tomorrow.

Cody sat on a picnic table with his feet on the seat. His arms were spread behind him, and he had his body pointed to the sun. The guy had fair coloring and so always applied SPF 60.

You could join him. Enjoy a moment’s quiet before dinner.

I planned to eat dinner with the group tonight, but then aimed to generally make myself scarce at night from now on. Everyone knew where to find me.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text .

An address and a photo of two adorable-looking dogs. Both actual pooches and neither was of a breed I recognized. Possibly mutts?

Shot back a thumbs-up and tucked my phone into my back pocket. I grabbed my sunglasses and ball cap and headed out.

I tried to be quiet, but Cody clearly heard my feet on the gravel as he sat up straighter and turned his head in my direction. “You going to join me?”

“Sure.” Casual. Like this wasn’t always the plan. I sat on the table with him. “I won’t ask how it’s going…”

He chuckled. “Nothing to report. I have no idea, at this point, how much I’m going to be useful.”

“You’ve got times set aside for each camper, right?”

“Yep. Every couple of days. We’ve let them know there’s nothing wrong with wanting more and it’s also okay if they feel they need less.”

“Yeah?”

“Brielle, Francis, and Elliott all come across as really settled and content. We both know first impressions might be misleading.” Cody scratched his nose.

“True.” I considered. “And you’re worried about?”

“Keegan for sure. The young man has some kind of underlying issues. Even putting aside the fact he’s an orphan—his word, not mine.” His file painted a bleak picture of a kid in pain.

“You met his stepfather.” The memorable guy.

“Mr. Fulton? Seems like a nice guy. Keegan had good things to say. About the gentleman stepping up when his mom got sick, marrying her, and then adopting him and his sister.”

“That’s a lot.”

“There are good people in the world. I would definitely put Chris’s parents in that category.”

“Yeah? ”

Cody nodded. “Chris says their parents are completely supportive. Excited, even. Well, of their child feeling comfortable enough to attend camp. High school next year is a whole other thing.”

“They’re from West Vancouver, right?”

“Yeah. Very conservative area. Their parents are worried about how they’ll do in high school.”

“Well, we’ll do our best to see they’re prepared, right?” I slanted a glance at Cody.

“I counseled several nonbinary teens during my practicum. Each kid is unique, though. All four of Chris’s grandparents insist on gendering them.”

“Ouch.” Of course if I’d been nonbinary or trans, my parents would’ve done the same damn thing.

“Yeah. So all the aunts, uncles, and cousins feel free to do the same. Chris is hanging in there, but it’s not easy on them.”

“I’d say not. I was reviewing the applicants for the next session. Two trans teenagers.”

“Just as tough.”

I nodded. “Both have parental consent to attend, and sometimes that’s the highest hurdle.”

“This would be the session at the end of July?”

“Yes. Looks like a good group of kids. Sorry, teens.” This next group were fifteen- to seventeen-year-olds.

“There’s plenty of space for more teens.” Cody sniffed. “Dinner smells amazing.”

“The camp is designed to hold twenty-four campers. I worried we might have problems if we waited until the last minute, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

“Part of that is the tough economy. Not as many jobs for teenagers. ”

“True.” And LGBTQ kids tended to have higher unemployment rates. Which just sucked.

“And I’m sure some is because of the special nature of what you’re doing.”

“That’s also entirely possible. Twenty-four would be almost impossible for you to manage.”

He shrugged. “If we have campers with serious issues needing major interventions? Yes. Alessandra’s offered to step up. She loves being a mother, but she’s also got that must be helping people all the time gene.”

“I believe you have the same one.”

He burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s so true.

Kennedy recognized it in me immediately and was happy to direct my interest toward counseling and the PhD program at Simon Fraser University.

I just thought…” He cleared his throat. “I knew I could be gay. I knew I could be a psychologist. I knew there were gay psychologists….”

“You just hadn’t pieced it together for yourself.”

“Right. During my undergrad, I met Justin Bridges—a gay counselor. One of Kennedy’s other successful mentees. He’s amazing at his job.”

“Did she say he’s pursuing a PhD?” I seemed to recall that coming up in conversation.

Cody chuckled. “He tells me he looks up to me because I actually had the guts to do the program.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not cheap. I think that was one of the reasons he told himself he couldn’t do it.

I’m not speaking out of turn when I say he lacked confidence.

As I progressed through my studies, he came to see he could do it as well.

He’s just finished another year. Pretty soon, Kennedy and Denise won’t be the only psychologists at the ranch. ”

Dr. Denise Lang was a psychologist who specialized in counseling children in trauma.

“Kennedy attracts the best.”

“That she does.”

“She trying to get you to sign on?”

Cody shot me a glance.

I shrugged. “I would, if I were her. And as much as I love Pride Camp, we only operate during the summer. As long as she’s willing to let you come back every summer—for as long as you want—I think you should go for it. Unless working for your mentor would be stifling.”

“Oh God, working for her would be the opposite of that. She’s brilliant, Jai.

And I’m not just saying that…” He waved his hand around.

“She took care of me when I was at my most vulnerable. Then turned that empathy into a kick in the pants. She knocked me right out of my apathy and onto the path I’ve chosen. ”

“Well, we’re glad you found your calling.” I waved in response to Makenna’s gesture. “Dinner?”

“Hell yeah, I’m starving.”

Despite my stomach being in knots for most of the day—with worry about whether or not we could pull this off—I was as well.