Aaron’s fingers clenched at his sides. “It’s not right that Eric gets called out while I don’t. God, I wish so much that I could take it back. Fix it so Colin didn’t get hurt. But I can’t. And I feel fuckingawfulabout it!” His voice broke, and he blinked rapidly, struggling to compose himself. “I wish I hadn’t done it. And Iswear, I’ll never do it again.” His eyes flicked up to Alex’s. “I’m sorry, man. I really, really am.”
The tension in the air changed—it wasn’t gone, but it was no longer suffocating. There was a crack in the wall, a moment of possibility.
Alex stared at Aaron, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he let out a breath and shook his head. “What you said hurt a lot.” He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I wanted to hate you for it.” He let the words settle. “But the truth is … I’ve said things I wish I could take back, too. And if I hadn’t run off, Colin wouldn’t have had to chase me down and then get hurt.” He shrugged, then looked Aaron straight in the eye. “You messed up, but so did I.” His fist tapped Aaron’s shoulder. “We’re good.”
Aaron nodded and blew out a shaky breath. “Thanks, man.”
A murmur swept through the group, the hard lines of tension softening, morphing into relief.
Eric, standing beside Colin, gave a tight, uncertain nod. Then, gathering his courage, he took a hesitant step forward and extended his hand toward Alex. “Aaron’s not the only one who’s sorry,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “I’m sorry too.” He glanced around him to where the Thunder Bat team stood, listening. “Hope you guys can forgive me.”
For a beat, Alex didn’t move. Then, slowly, he reached out and clasped Eric’s hand.
A ripple of surprise spread through the campers, Timber Ridge and Camp Pride alike. The tension wasn’t entirely gone, but the ice had cracked.
Colin let the moment settle before clapping his hands once. “All right. We talk about sportsmanship all the time, and part of what that word means is being fair and generous in our treatment of others. We’ve just seen two brave young men ownup to what they did and apologize.” His eyes swept over his players. “What happens next is onus.”
Trent, sensing the moment was right, grabbed a baseball from the nearby equipment bag and tossed it in the air “Alright, so … we playing, orwhat?”
Greyson’s brows furrowed. “Playing? Playingwhat?”
Trent’s grin widened. “Mixed teams. Quick four-inning game. Timber Ridge and Camp Pride players on both sides.” He flicked a glance at Colin. “No coaches allowed.”
Colin grinned and eased his scooter backward, lifting both hands in surrender. “I’m out!” While Coach Tate waved his team forward. “Fine byme!”
At first, the players hesitated—but then, Mateo grabbed a bat and twirled it in his hand. “Let’s go!”
Alex nudged Aaron’s shoulder. “Come play!”
“But I’m not on the team!”
“Who cares?” Eric chimed in. “This is just for fun!”
And just like that, the ice shattered. Trent hand-picked the teams, mixing Timber Ridge and Thunder Bat players with more than a few campers thrown in, and they all trotted toward the field, grabbing gloves and pairing off in their new groups. The laughter and eager shouts were already bubbling up. Within moments, the first pitch was thrown, and the first crack of a bat sent them all running.
Colin, watching from the sidelines, leaned on his knee scooter, his arm draped around Joshua’s neck.
“You know what?” Joshua said, his head leaning against Colin’s arm. “This is the real victory.”
Colin exhaled, watching the players—and not just his, all of them—laughing, shouting,playing baseball.
He pressed a kiss to Joshua’s hair and murmured, “Yeah. It is.”
Trent’sfour-inning game concluded with a score of two to one, but more importantly, it wrapped up with both sides, along with their spectators, laughing, bumping elbows, and forming friendships. They returned to the picnic area and made short work of the burgers, hot dogs, and fries that Verdun’s cooks had provided. And as the afternoon sun dipped toward the Blue Ridge Mountains, the campers drifted toward the campfire area for an evening under the stars.
Nate took out the box of prizes and started distributing them to the players chosen as winners by the coaches from both teams. Alex won MVP, a title he had more than earned with his sharp plays and relentless energy on the field. Colin handed him the prize—a sleek, custom-engraved bat stating: Thunder Bats MVP – Camp Pride 2025, then ruffled his hair, grinning down at him. “Way to go, kid!”
Alex turned it over in his hands, letting the weight settle as he drew in a trembling breath. His life to this point had not included approval, praise, or awards. He was much more accustomed to anger, pain, and rejection. But this? His grin faltered, then returned as he glanced toward his teammates, who were waving glow sticks and cheering. His Timber Ridge opponents clapped in acknowledgment, whooping in approval of his well-earned reward.
And then … his gaze landed on Eric.
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 hateyourself 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.
