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 youeverwant 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’reboys, 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. “Whatdidhurt…,” he said quietly, gesturing toward Joshua, “… was thinking I might not make it back tohim.”
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 topthatstory?” 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.
“TheWORST!” 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 allthatmuch … except when you were around.” He indicated Trent, and then the group. “Who’s next forTwo 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 plainfear!” 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, saygood-byeto 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 brieflywith 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.
