Chad hurt. It had been a while since he’d hiked out with all his gear on his back. He’d tried to stay active since he left the service. Sitting in a hospital for two weeks hadn’t been conducive to any activity other than staring at the beeping monitors and the slow drip of the pain meds as his father deteriorated before his eyes.

He’d get up in the mornings and go for a run. He signed up with a gym near his dad’s house. He didn’t use it. He spent his free time going through his father’s things, trying to get his life in order. His dad was an anal bastard; he kept meticulous records. Everything was handled. He’d left a long letter with a lawyer that had kicked Chad’s ass when he’d read it.

There was to be no service in Virginia. He didn’t want to go back to SoCal. Or his hometown. He had nothing left in any of those places. Just Chad. An entire life lived and all he had left was Chad and an old car. He’d left Chad a life insurance policy that embarrassed him. As if money made up for thirteen years of absence.

The last four years had been Chad’s fault. He forgot that sometimes. When he’d turned eighteen, he could have gone to see his father. Maybe try to find some forgiveness in his heart. He hadn’t. He went into the service because his parents would never approve.

He’d left the service to fix his mistakes. But it was too late.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been out. He still wore the uniform because he wanted the familiar in a world that was turned upside down. He thought about going back in now that there was nothing in the civilian world for him. He promised he’d make sure his father was laid to rest first.

He’d do that one last thing for the man he didn’t know.

And he hurt like a bitch for it.

“There’s no fish in this lake,” one of the older men shouted from the side of the small lake where they’d stopped for the night.

“You say that every year,” one of the women shouted back. The soccer mom one.

“And every year there’s no fish in this lake,” the same guy shouted back. He tossed the line out again as he waded in. Chad smirked. No wonder there were no fish. They’d all swam away in terror.

“Here.” Someone tapped him on the shoulder and dropped a baggie into his lap. His voice was deeper than it should be. Chad moved over on the fallen log to make room for Skip to sit beside him. “It’s homemade jerky. I have some dried fruit in my pack if you prefer. We’ll starve waiting for these idiots to catch anything.”

Chad opened the bag and took out a piece of the dried meat. He wasn’t hungry. He had a couple of MREs still in his pack. He needed to keep his hands busy. He handed the baggie back to Skip, who shook his head. “Keep it. I have more. I think Lucinda brought the makings for s’mores and Rose has hot dogs. Someone will have boiled eggs. Canned fish. I hate canned fish. Personally, I’m not fond of fresh fish either, but being from the coast no one believes me.”

The sun was setting over the ridge, and Chad shivered. The night would be cold. He’d enjoyed the chill during the day. But now, he wasn’t prepared for a night out in the cold. “Thank you, Sir.”

Skip snorted and dug his elbow into Chad’s side. “All that, sir and ma’am shit, man, you can drop that. This isn’t the military, and we’re not your parents.”

Chad tried not to react to the touch. Even if it was through several layers of fleece and flannel. He chewed the tough meat and thought calming thoughts until his body relaxed.

It had been years since he’d reacted this way to anyone. Years of forcing away the urges he didn’t understand. He’d succeeded, but now… He’d spent the day watching the man’s ass from behind as they climbed slowly upwards along the trail. The cargo pants Skip wore weren’t exactly tight, but they weren’t loose either. And one thing was for damned sure, Skip had a nice ass.

Chad tapped his feet in time to the song that came from a tinny radio. He hadn’t looked at a man’s ass in years. He’d tried to find appreciation for the female form… he’d failed.

“I might be wrong, but wading out in the water and shouting is not going to get the fish to bite,” he pointed out as the argument over by the shore grew louder and more heated.

“I’ve been saying that for years, but what do I know.” Skip laughed, the husky timbre of his voice sent chills all over Chad’s body. “Between you and me and this log, it’s better this way. I’m not sure they’d know how to clean one if they caught it.”

“But you would.” Somehow, Chad knew Skip could do just about everything most of these people were clueless about. He didn’t remember him all that well, but he remembered that he quietly went about getting things done, while the other grownups had argued over petty crap… just like now.

“Don’t tell them that, goes back to the whole, ‘I don’t eat them, therefore I’m not killing them’, thing. And if I wanted to eat one, I’d do like every other logical person.”

“Go to Red Lobster and order off the land lubbers’ menu,” Chad said, and Skip’s face broke into a huge grin just before he laughed.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Skip said still laughing. He looked up at the darkening sky. “There are clouds moving in. It’s going to be cold tonight. I don’t see a tent in that rig you have.”

Chad looked up too. The clouds didn’t bother him. The cold was going to be tough. He’d slept in worse conditions. “I’ll manage.”

“Well, not trying to make it sound weird or anything, but I brought the two-person tent. Colt never remembered to bring one. I think he did it on purpose. He always bunked with me. So, if you want… there’s room.” He sounded incredibly uncomfortable issuing the invitation. Almost as uncomfortable as Chad felt hearing it.

“No, Sir, it’s just one night. I’ll be fine by the fire.” He looked at the thin clouds again while the two by the lake shouted about how they’d scared the fish away and someone else shouted that the hot dogs were ready to go into the fire and to get their asses out of the water.

“If there are bears in these woods, they all ran for the fucking hills,” Skip said shaking his head. He clamped his hand on Chad’s thigh and pushed himself up. The area where his hand had been seemed to burn like he’d been touched by the sun itself. “You want a hot dog, or do you want to stay over here in the dark like some haint in the woods?”

“Guess I could stand something solid to eat. I have a couple MREs left, if we’re talking worst-case scenario.” After they laid his father to rest and made it back down the hill he was going to catch a ride back to the tavern and move the hell on.

“I’ll trade you my hot dog for your MRE,” Skip offered. Chad couldn’t tell if he was joking. “Come on, Kid. Let’s get food, such as it is.” He held his hand out and Chad took it without thinking. Skip pulled him to his feet and stood holding his hand for a long moment before letting go. Chad noticed that there was no height difference. Skip’s green eyes glimmered with surprise before he let go and looked away.

“Hey, Skipper, grab a stick, impale a dog.” The one who’d been in the water shouted, his voice carrying over the lake. They laughed like it was funny.

Maybe it was funny. Chad didn’t understand these people. They were all so mismatched it was odd. Like landing on some island with a bunch of strangers and he was the only person without a script. He had no part in this show. He just didn’t understand how they all fit together. Especially Skip.

He was younger. Maybe he wasn’t younger chronologically, but he looked younger. His face was tanned and for the most part unlined. Just the laugh lines around his eyes that would crinkle up when he smiled. He didn’t seem to be burdened with life like the others. If he had a job, he didn’t complain about it. If he had a family, he didn’t gush about them. He didn’t talk about much. He’d stopped to check on Chad and talk to him as the day wore on. They stayed behind the others. Slowing when they slowed. Resting when they rested. Chad was sure Skip could keep going when the others collapsed against each other every hour. He didn’t even take the pack off while he waited for them to catch their breath and get back on the trail.

He’d set up most of the tents and did most of the fire building while the others pitched in. Badly. The others would be lost without him, of that Chad was certain. Yet he never complained while the other men did nothing but complain.

Chad grabbed his pack, and walked over to the fire taking a plate and a stick from the woman with the gray spiked hair. Rose, he was sure her name was Rose. Or Rosie. Sam was the soccer mom. Lucinda, don’t call her Lucy, was the biker chick. The biker dude would be her husband, but there were two of those. They both looked alike. Then Skip, with his brown and green striped knit cap that set his eyes to blazing. The leader guy, Blake. And Darren, the former football player who didn’t know shit about fishing. There had been more people on his father’s list, but he didn’t know how to get in touch with them. A Jimmy and a Norah who weren’t part of their online group. Their contact information obsolete. The rest were spouses who couldn’t come. He looked over the group and wondered how they’d all met, and why his father came to the northwest year after year to meet these people.

“That climb gets higher every year,” Lucinda said as she approached Chad where he sat on one of the many logs that circled the big stone fire pit.

“Or you’re just old, Lucy.” One of the biker’s slapped her ass just before she sat down.

“Fuck you, Phil, and keep your goddamned hands to yourself. Rosie, god help me, if he slaps my ass one more time, I’m going to make you a widow.”

“Go, ahead, hon, and make it fast while it’s still light enough to dump him in the lake.” The gray-haired woman laughed along like it didn’t bother her that her husband manhandled another woman.

The soccer mom walked over to the fire and sat down on the ground beside Skip.  She leaned back on him, surprising everyone by the looks of it. Especially Skip. “Hey, Skipper, you’ve been quiet this trip. What’s up with you?”

He glanced up as if the question startled him. Maybe he wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Maybe he wasn’t used to being the focus of Sam’s attention. Chad couldn’t tell. He speared his hotdog and held it over the fire trying to avoid Skip’s gaze.

He slid down onto the ground to lean against the log and wrap the woman in his arms. “Not much. I’m still trying to absorb Colt’s death. I was in Virginia last Halloween and he didn’t tell me. Maybe I should have noticed, you know. He seemed fine. Makes me wonder, you know.”

Sam looked down at the ground, and patted his knee as she snuggled next to him. “I’m sorry, hon. I forgot the two of you were close. God, he loved you. I think he fell in love with your sunshine the very first time we saw you. Colten Mayes was probably the love of my life up to that time, but the moment you walked in the door… it was like he’d found religion or something.”

Skip blushed and looked away. Chad’s hands shook. His skin seemed to grow tighter. He wanted to get up and leave. He didn’t want to hear that his father and this man were lovers. There was nothing in his dad’s life to give Chad the slightest inkling that his dad might like men. Maybe that’s why his mother had successfully ejected him from their lives.

“His brain fascinated me. I’d never met anyone as smart as Colt.” Skip picked at the hotdog someone handed him. “I never understood what he saw in me. Just some hippie dropout kid, not even old enough to drink.”

“You were our lost puppy, and our sunshine, Sunshine.” Rose chimed in from her side of the fire. “You with your long red hair and your surfer-boy charm. I think we all fell in love with you that week. You’ve been our glue, Skipper. You came to all of us at one time or another when we were at our lowest points. And you’ve never asked for a damned thing in return. Colt loved you, especially. Probably because you were free. And he never would be free.”

“Well, I loved him,” Skip mumbled the words the first time, and wiped the corner of his eye before saying it louder, and with more feeling. “We have his son with us. We haven’t lost him. He’s sitting right there looking at us from those eyes, taking it all in, just like Colt always did.”

“I’m sorry, Skip, but… if Colten Mayes had looked like that thirty years ago, I would have jumped his bones and rode him until he couldn’t walk.” The long-haired biker chick smiled wickedly at Chad over the fire, winking at him to show she was kidding. Or maybe not kidding. He never could tell with women. “He blushes. Oh, honey, you are going to make some girl really happy one day.”

“Stop embarrassing him, Lu,” Skip said quietly as he blew the fire off his scorched hotdog. “He’s not nearly ready to trade barbs with you.”

“Don’t listen to him, hon, just because he couldn’t handle me doesn’t mean I’m hard to handle. You just have to know where to put your hands is all.”

“Oh my god, Lucinda.” Skip sputtered as the rest of the group laughed at his discomfort. “I was not that damned crazy, woman. I liked my body parts to stay attached, thank you very much.”

“Your loss, sugar.”

“When are you due back at base, Chad, if it’s okay to ask?” The big guy, Darren cleared his throat nervously as he looked back and forth between Skip and Lucinda. He was probably wondering, just like everyone else sitting around that fire, if the two of them had hooked up. Chad just wanted to know about Skip and his dad.

“I’m out, Sir. I got out in January,” he replied and set the burnt dog aside. He’d lost his appetite.

“And came home in time to bury your father. Must be rough,” Blake said from his shadowed perch behind the fire. Chad felt no sympathy from that corner. He let his gaze flick over the man’s shadow with disinterest. His dad had never spoken highly of the man. Not that Chad ever had the feeling that there was bad blood between them. Just that… he wasn’t high on Colten Mayes’ list of favorite people. Skip Simpson damned sure was, and now he was left to wonder about secrets and lies, and the father he never had the chance to know.

“Like I said, I got to say goodbye.” He shrugged and climbed to his feet. He needed to get away for a bit and clear the cobwebs from his head. He hadn’t signed on to take his father’s place in their circle. And he damned sure wasn’t going to sign on to take his father’s place in their beds.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He grabbed his jacket and flashlight and left them to their memories.