“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 youwantme 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 loudcrack—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 rantowardthat 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.
Thwack! The bat connected, sending the ball screaming past third base, bouncing fair down the line. A shout went up from the dugout as Alex tore down the base path, his cleats kicking up dust. He rounded first, but the third baseman had already recovered the ball.
Colin scooted forward, hands cupped around his mouth. “Hold!” Alex skidded to a stop, planting himself on first.
Joshua released a slow breath.
Grayson stepped up. The Timber Ridge infield moved slightly to the left, ready for him.
First pitch—a ball.
Second pitch—Grayson swung and sent a sharp grounder up the middle. The Timber Ridge shortstop lunged, snagging it in one smooth motion. A quick pivot—a sharp throw to second. Alex barely had time to slide before the second baseman’s glove dropped onto him.
“OUT!” the ump called. And before the groans had settled, the second baseman fired to first—beating Grayson by half a step.
Three outs
Camp Pride’s dugout deflated.The early excitement of Alex’s hit faded, replaced with the frustration of being shut down so quickly. Trent sighed from his place in the dugout, afraid Colin would be fuming. Except … hewasn’t. He wasn’t pacing. He wasn’t swearing. He wasn’t questioning the calls. Notebook inhand, he jotted something down, nodding slightly to himself as if the inning had gone exactly to plan.
Trent frowned. This was new. He’d seen Colin push through PT, fight for his recovery, refuse to let his pain or injury define him. He’d seen himstubborn, determined, relentless. But this? This was different. Colin was calm. Analytical. Completely in control. Trent, still watching him, murmured, “You good?”
Colin replied with a curt nod. He finished writing and tapped the notebook with his pen, then turned to his players. “Let’s hit the field. Remember what you learned in practice! Eyes on the ball. Back up as it’s hit, then charge forward and set your stance. Call out your catch!”
