The Field of Love - 20. Chapter 20

Field of Love

Chapter 20

 

The afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the baseball field as practice wound down. Without Andy’s booming laugh, Joey’s constant chatter, or Roger’s sarcastic commentary, the dugout felt strangely hollow. The team was quieter, more focused, but also… less alive.

Sammy noticed it. Mike noticed it. Even James noticed it.

Coach Parker blew his whistle. “Wrap it up! Good hustle today.”

Sammy tossed his glove into his bag and glanced over at Mike, who was wiping sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. Sammy swallowed hard. How did Mike make something so simple look so unfairly attractive?

James jogged over, smirking. “You two heading out together?”

Sammy felt his ears warm. “Uh… yeah.”

Mike bumped Sammy’s shoulder lightly. “We’re grabbing dinner.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Dinner, huh? Just make sure you’re both back before curfew. And Sammy—” he pointed a finger at him, “—if my brother comes home with hickeys again, I’m telling Mom.”

Mike groaned. “James!”

Sammy laughed, cheeks burning. “We’re just eating, James.”

“Uh-huh,” James said, clearly unconvinced but amused. “Look, with Andy and Joey gone, Coach is watching everyone like a hawk. So, keep it clean.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “He acts like he’s our dad.”

“He’s worse,” Sammy whispered.

Mike leaned closer, voice soft. “But you like me anyway.”

Sammy’s breath caught. “Yeah. I do.”

Mike’s grin softened into something tender. “Good. Because I like you too. A lot.”

They walked toward the parking lot, the gravel crunching under their cleats. The silence between them wasn’t awkward — it was warm, comfortable, full of unspoken things.

Halfway to the car, Mike stopped. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

Sammy turned. “Sure.”

Mike’s voice lowered. “Are you okay with… all of this? Us? I know things got weird with Tony, and James keeps teasing, and the team’s different without Andy and Joey. I just don’t want you feeling pressured.”

Sammy stepped closer, close enough that Mike’s breath brushed his cheek. “I’m more than okay. I’m happy. You make me happy.”

Mike’s shoulders relaxed, relief washing over him. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Sammy laughed softly. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

Mike reached out, gently taking Sammy’s hand. “Then let’s go eat. And maybe… after… we can talk. Really talk.”

Sammy squeezed his hand. “I’d like that.”

They climbed into Mike’s car, the engine humming to life as the sky shifted toward evening. For the first time in days, Sammy felt the world settle. No drama. No tension. Just him and Mike, figuring out what they were becoming.

And it felt right.

Dinner at the Pine Mountain Grill ended quietly, both of them lingering over empty plates, neither wanting the night to end. Mike drove them back to his house, the sky fading into a deep blue, cicadas humming in the trees. The porch light glowed softly as they stepped inside.

James wasn’t home. The house felt still.

Mike locked the door, then turned to Sammy with a shy smile. “It looks like nobody is home. We can hang out in my room, I reckon… if you want.”

Sammy nodded. “I want.”

They climbed the stairs, brushing their shoulders, and neither pulling away. Mike’s room was exactly what Sammy expected — baseball posters, a half-finished homework assignment on the desk, a hoodie tossed over the chair. Lived in. Comfortable. Mike.

Sammy sat on the edge of the bed while Mike kicked off his shoes and dropped beside him, close enough that their knees touched.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Mike exhaled softly. “It’s weird not having Andy and Joey around. The school feels empty.”

Sammy nodded. “The team feels empty too.”

Mike looked at him, eyes warm. “But… I don’t mind tonight being quiet.”

Sammy’s heart fluttered. “Me neither.”

Mike reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Sammy’s forehead. His fingers lingered, gentle, almost hesitant. “You always look away when I do that.”

Sammy swallowed. “I’m not used to someone touching me like… like they care.”

Mike’s expression softened. “I care.”

Sammy met his eyes, really met them, and something inside him loosened. “I know.”

Mike shifted closer, their shoulders touching fully now. “Can I… hold you?”

Sammy didn’t answer with words. He leaned into Mike’s side, letting Mike wrap an arm around him. It wasn’t dramatic — just warm, steady, safe. Sammy rested his head on Mike’s shoulder, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath.

Mike whispered, “This okay?”

Sammy nodded against him. “More than okay.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the quiet filling the room in a way that felt peaceful instead of empty. Mike’s thumb traced slow circles on Sammy’s arm, not asking for anything, just being there.

Eventually Sammy lifted his head, their faces inches apart. Mike’s eyes flicked down to Sammy’s lips, then back up — a silent question.

Sammy answered by leaning in, pressing a soft, slow kiss to Mike’s lips. No rush. No urgency. Just tenderness.

Mike kissed him back, just as gently.

When they parted, Mike rested his forehead against Sammy’s. “I really like you.”

Sammy smiled, breath shaky. “I really like you too.”

Mike pulled him close again, holding him like he was something precious. And for the first time in a long time, Sammy let himself believe he was.

 

OOOOO

 

Earlier the same day the Pikeville courthouse buzzed with energy. Through the tall windows of the waiting room, the boys could see the crowd gathering outside — families, coal workers, teachers, retirees, students — all waiting for Judge Collins to step out and speak.

Inside, the room felt smaller than it was. Andy, Joey, Roger, JT, and Cody stood together near the long wooden bench. Robert and Firestone were posted near the door, both in quiet, alert stances that said they were already working while the rest of the security team was outside mixed in with the growing crowd.

Judge Collins adjusted his suit jacket, then turned to face all of them.

“Alright, boys,” he said, voice steady but warm. “Let me explain how this is going to go.”

Everyone straightened — even Roger.

“The crowd out there is friendly,” the judge continued, “but it’s still a crowd. People will want to shake hands, ask questions, and take pictures. I’ll be giving a short speech on the courthouse steps, and I want you boys with me.”

Andy blinked. “With you… up front?”

Judge Collins nodded. “Yes. Andy, I want you right beside me. You’re part of this. People know you, they respect you, and they’ll want to see you there.”

Joey nudged Andy gently, a small smile forming. Andy’s cheeks warmed, but he nodded.

The judge looked at the others. “Roger, JT, Cody — I want you three standing just behind us. Not on display, but present. You’re family. And people should see the family I’m proud of.”

Roger puffed his chest a little. JT smiled shyly. Cody shifted closer to Andy.

Then Judge Collins turned to Firestone and Robert.

“Tyler, Robert — once the speech is done, the boys will mingle with the crowd. Shake hands, thank folks for coming, ask for their support. I want them to enjoy it, but I want them safe.”

Firestone gave a crisp nod. “We’ll be watching every angle, Judge.”

Robert added, “I’ll stay close to the boys. No one gets near them without us seeing it first.”

Judge Collins rested a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “This is a good day. A big day. And I want you all to be part of it.”

Andy swallowed, nerves and pride mixing in his chest. “We’re ready, Dad.”

Joey stepped beside him. “We’ve got him.”

Roger chimed in, “And if anyone gets rowdy, I’ll just glare at them.”

JT whispered, “Please don’t.”

Cody giggled.

Firestone opened the door, sunlight spilling in. “The crowd's ready, Judge.”

Judge Collins took a breath, squared his shoulders, and smiled at the boys — his boys.

“Let’s go make a memory.”

They followed him out into the bright Pikeville afternoon, the courthouse steps waiting, the crowd rising in applause as the Collins family stepped into view.

Judge Collins stepped up to the microphone, Andy at his right side, the other boys standing proudly behind him. The crowd quieted, waiting.

He looked out over Pikeville — the courthouse lawn, the coal trucks rumbling in the distance, the families gathered shoulder‑to‑shoulder — and began.

“Folks… Thank you for being here today. I stand before you not just as a judge, not just as a candidate, but as a father, a neighbor, and a son of Eastern Kentucky.”

A ripple of applause moved through the crowd.

“We all know the truth. Our region has been hurting. The coal industry — the backbone of our towns for generations — has been shrinking. Policies from Washington have accelerated that decline, and families here have paid the price. Jobs lost. Paychecks gone. Futures uncertain.”

He paused, letting the weight settle.

“But I’m not here to point fingers. I’m here to say what we all know: Eastern Kentucky deserves better. We deserve leadership that doesn’t forget us after election season. We deserve a state government that shows up when disaster strikes — not weeks later, not with half‑measures, but with real support.”

A few people shouted agreement.

“When the floods hit our hollers, many of you were left waiting. Waiting for help. Waiting for answers. Waiting for someone in Frankfort to remember that Pike County exists. That Letcher County exists. That Floyd County exists. That our people matter.”

He rested a hand on Andy’s shoulder.

“I’m running because I want a Kentucky where no family feels abandoned. Where no child wonders if their home will be rebuilt. Where no worker has to leave the state just to find a job that pays a living wage.”

He glanced back at the boys.

“And I want a Kentucky where every young person — every one — can stand proud. My son Andy is here with me today. He’s gay, and he’s one of the bravest young men I’ve ever known. I want a Kentucky where he never has to hide who he is. Where every kid can grow up safe, supported, and respected.”

The crowd erupted — cheers, applause, a few people wiping their eyes.

Judge Collins raised his voice over the noise.

“We can build a future that honors our past without being trapped by it. We can bring new industries, new training programs, new opportunities right here to Eastern Kentucky. We can rebuild stronger after every storm. We can make sure our state government works for all of us — not just the folks in the big cities.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice warm.

“But I can’t do it alone. I need your help. I need your trust. I need your vote. And after this speech, my boys and I will be out there among you — shaking hands, thanking you, listening to you. Because this campaign isn’t about me.”

He smiled.

“It’s about us.”

The crowd roared as he stepped back, the boys gathering around him, Firestone and Robert already scanning the edges of the crowd as the judge prepared to walk down into the sea of supporters.

The judge’s speech ended to loud applause, and the crowd surged forward as he stepped down from the courthouse steps. Andy stayed at his father’s side just like he’d been asked, Joey close beside him, Roger, JT, and Cody forming a loose line behind them.

Firestone and Robert moved with the group, scanning faces, watching hands, reading the crowd the way trained men do.”

People came up smiling — shaking Andy’s hand, patting Joey on the shoulder, telling Judge Collins they were proud of him. It felt good. It felt hopeful.

Until one man pushed through.

He was thick‑shouldered, sunburned, wearing a faded camo hat and a shirt with the sleeves torn off. He looked Andy up and down with a smirk that wasn’t friendly.

“So you’re the one,” the man said loudly. “You the—”

He didn’t finish the slur, but the ugly tone made it clear what he meant.

Andy froze. Joey stiffened beside him.

Before the man could say another word, Robert stepped in — smooth, quiet, controlled. He didn’t shove. He didn’t threaten. He simply placed himself between Andy and the man, posture relaxed but unmistakably firm.

“Sir,” Robert said calmly, “this is a family event. Let’s keep it respectful.”

The man opened his mouth again — but Roger was suddenly there too, standing just behind Robert, arms crossed, expression flat and unimpressed.

Roger didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

The man’s eyes flicked between Robert’s steady stare and Roger’s silent warning. His bravado cracked. He muttered something under his breath and backed away into the crowd.

Andy let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Robert turned to him, voice low. “You’re alright. He’s gone.”

Roger bumped Andy’s shoulder lightly. “Guy’s not worth your time.”

Joey slipped his hand into Andy’s for a second — quick, subtle, supportive. Cody and JT moved closer, forming a small protective cluster around their friend.

Judge Collins, still shaking hands a few feet away, glanced over. He saw the boys together, saw Robert and Roger standing guard, and gave Andy a small nod — proud, steady, reassuring.

The moment passed. The crowd moved on. And Andy stood a little taller as they continued greeting supporters.

 

OOOOO

 

The black SUV rolled out of Pikeville, climbing the winding road toward Prestonsburg. The courthouse crowd faded behind them, replaced by the thick blooming trees lining the highway. Inside, the air was quiet — not tense, just thoughtful.

Andy sat beside his father, staring out the window. Joey sat close enough that their shoulders touched. Firestone was in the front passenger seat, scanning the road. Robert sat behind him, angled so he could see all four boys at once.

Judge Collins finally broke the silence.

“Andy,” he said gently, “I saw what happened back there.”

Andy swallowed. “I’m fine.”

Joey gave him a look — the kind that said you don’t have to pretend with me.

Judge Collins didn’t push. “I know you’re strong. But you shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of ignorance.”

Andy nodded, eyes still on the window. He turned to look at his father, “Dad, I knew when you first talked about running things like this or worse was possible. I’m fine. I won't let a stranger that doesn’t even know me determine how I feel about myself or those I love.”

Firestone turned slightly in his seat. “Judge, the boys handled it exactly right. No escalation. No scene. Robert stepped in cleanly.”

Robert added, “And Roger backed him up perfectly. The man backed off fast.”

Roger smirked. “He wasn’t that tough. Just loud.”

Andy finally looked up. “It’s just… he didn’t even know me. He just saw me standing there and decided to hate me.”

Judge Collins placed a hand on Andy’s knee. “Son, people fear what they don’t understand. But you didn’t back down. You stood tall. And that matters.”

Joey squeezed Andy’s hand. “You weren’t alone. You’ll never be alone.”

Andy’s eyes softened.

Firestone spoke again, voice calm and professional. “Judge, when we get to Jenny Wiley State Park, we’ll adjust the security pattern. Crowds at state parks can be unpredictable. We’ll keep the boys close.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll stay within arm’s reach of Andy and Joey. Roger, JT, and Cody will stay in the second ring.”

Judge Collins looked back at the boys. “You’re not just campaign props. You’re my family. And your safety comes first.”

Roger leaned forward between the seats. “We know, Judge. And we’ve got Andy’s back too.”

Andy smiled faintly. “Thanks, Rog.”

The SUV curved along the ridge, the lake at Jenny Wiley coming into view — bright blue water tucked between the mountains like a secret.

Judge Collins exhaled, looking at the boys with a mix of pride and worry.

“Today was a reminder,” he said quietly. “This campaign is bigger than speeches. It’s about showing people who we are. And sometimes… that means facing the ugly parts too.”

Andy nodded. “I can handle it. Especially with all of you.”

Joey rested his head briefly on Andy’s shoulder. “We’re a team.”

Firestone glanced back with a small smile. “A damn good one.”

Robert added, “And a protected one.”

The SUV rolled down toward the park entrance, sunlight flashing across the hood. Whatever waited at Jenny Wiley — supporters, speeches, handshakes, or more challenges — they were ready to face it together.

 

OOOOO

 

The SUV rolled down the last curve of the mountain road, the trees opening to reveal the quiet blue water of Dewey Lake. The lodge sat just above the shoreline — long wooden beams, stone pillars, and wide windows reflecting the afternoon sun. It looked peaceful, almost too peaceful after the chaos in Pikeville.

Judge Collins stepped out first, stretching his back. Andy, Joey, and Roger followed, taking in the view. JT and Cody with the rest of the security team climbed out of the second SUV behind them, while Firestone and Robert immediately scanned the area.

“Beautiful place,” Joey murmured.

Andy nodded. “Yeah… feels like we can breathe here.”

Judge Collins smiled at them. “That’s the idea. We’ll meet supporters inside the lodge ballroom in about an hour. Until then, stay close.”

Firestone gave a crisp nod. “We’ll sweep the perimeter.”

Robert added, “I’ll stay with the boys.”

The group headed toward the lodge entrance, gravel crunching under their shoes. The lake shimmered behind them, quiet and calm.

Before going inside, Andy tugged Joey’s sleeve. “Come here. Just for a second.”

Joey followed him down the short path toward the lake’s edge. The others stayed near the lodge, talking with Judge Collins.

Andy stood at the water, hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think that guy in Pikeville would get to me… but he did.”

Joey stepped beside him, close enough their shoulders brushed. “He tried to make you feel small. But you weren’t. You stood there with your dad, with all of us. That’s strength.”

Andy looked at him, eyes soft. “I’m glad you were there.”

Joey smiled. “I always will be.”

Andy leaned his head briefly against Joey’s. The lake breeze moved around them, quiet and gentle — a moment that felt safe.

Up near the lodge entrance, Firestone was finishing a perimeter check when something caught his eye — a man standing near the side of the building, half‑hidden behind a column. He wasn’t part of the staff. He wasn’t dressed like a tourist. And he wasn’t watching the lake.

He was watching Andy and Joey.

Firestone’s voice dropped low. “Robert.”

Robert moved instantly to his side.

“Column at two o’clock,” Firestone murmured. “Man’s been watching the boys since we arrived.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed. “I see him.”

The man shifted, pretending to check his phone, but his gaze kept drifting toward the lake path.

Firestone didn’t approach aggressively. He walked toward the man casually, as if heading to the lodge door. Robert angled around the opposite side, creating a quiet pincer without alarming anyone.

When Firestone reached him, he spoke calmly. “Afternoon. Lodge event’s private. You here for the campaign?”

The man startled slightly. “Uh—no. Just… looking around.”

Firestone’s tone stayed polite, but firm. “Then I’ll need you to move along. This area’s reserved.”

Robert stepped into view behind the man — not threatening, just present.

The man swallowed, nodded quickly, and walked off toward the parking lot.

Firestone watched him go, then tapped his earpiece. “Judge, we had a watcher. He’s gone. No escalation.”

Judge Collins glanced toward the lake, worry flickering across his face. “Thank you, Tyler.”

Firestone nodded once. “Always.”

Andy and Joey walked back up the path, unaware of the incident. Roger met them halfway.

“You two good?” Roger asked.

Andy nodded. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

Joey added, “It’s really pretty here.”

Roger grinned. “Well, don’t get too relaxed. We’ve got a room full of people waiting to shake your hands.”

Andy groaned. “Oh joy.”

Judge Collins clapped his hands once. “Alright, boys. Let’s head inside.”

Firestone and Robert fell into position — one ahead, one behind — as the group entered the lodge together, ready for whatever the next stop on the campaign trail would bring.

 

OOOOO

 

The lodge ballroom had been rearranged for the event — round tables pushed to the sides, a refreshment station near the back windows, and a long line of supporters waiting to greet Judge Collins and the boys. The lake shimmered through the glass, giving the room a calm backdrop that didn’t quite match the nervous energy inside.

Judge Collins stepped forward first, shaking hands and thanking people for coming. Andy and Joey stayed close, Roger, JT, and Cody forming a loose semicircle behind them. Firestone and Robert moved like shadows along the edges of the room — unobtrusive but unmistakably present.

Most of the crowd was warm and friendly.

“Judge, we’re proud of you.”

“Andy, you’re a fine young man.”

“Joey, you boys stick together — that’s what matters.”

Andy smiled, Joey squeezed his hand once, and Roger even managed to behave.

But then the line shifted, and a man stepped forward who didn’t match the mood of the room.

He was tall, wiry, with a trimmed beard and a stiff posture. His eyes didn’t go to Judge Collins first — they went straight to Andy. Not curious. Not friendly. Focused.

Judge Collins extended his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

The man ignored it.

His gaze stayed locked on Andy. “So you’re the one causing all the fuss.”

Andy stiffened. Joey moved half a step closer.

Judge Collins’ voice stayed calm. “Sir, this is my son. If you have a question—”

The man cut him off. “Question? No. Just wondering why you’d parade him around like this.”

A few people nearby turned, sensing the shift.

Andy’s breath caught. Joey’s jaw tightened.

Before the man could say anything worse, Firestone appeared at his left shoulder — silent, steady, and close enough that the man noticed immediately.

“Sir,” Firestone said quietly, “this is a family event. Keep your comments respectful.”

The man scoffed. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

“No,” Firestone replied, voice still calm, “you’re saying what you’re thinking. And you’re done.”

The man opened his mouth again — but Robert stepped in from the right, posture relaxed but unmistakably firm.

“Let’s walk,” Robert said softly. “Now.”

The man looked between the two of them — Firestone’s controlled stare, Robert’s quiet readiness — and his bravado cracked. He muttered something under his breath and backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Judge Collins exhaled slowly.

Andy swallowed. Joey touched his arm gently. Roger glared at the man’s retreating back until JT nudged him.

Firestone leaned in. “He’s gone. No further issue.”

Robert added, “We’ve got you.”

Judge Collins placed a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “You handled that with more grace than he deserved.”

Andy nodded, still shaken but steady. “I’m okay.”

Joey whispered, “I’m right here.”

The crowd, sensing the moment had passed, began moving again — supporters stepping forward, offering smiles, handshakes, and encouragement. The warmth returned, slowly but surely.

And the boys — together, protected, and stronger than ever — continued greeting the people of Eastern Kentucky.

 

OOOOO

 

Andy’s room at the Jenny Wiley lodge was cozy — two beds, a small balcony overlooking the lake, and the soft hum of the air conditioner. The boys filed in after the event, still buzzing from everything that had happened.

Judge Collins stepped in last, closing the door behind him.

He looked at all of them — Andy, Joey, Roger, JT, Cody, Robert standing quietly near the wall, Firestone just inside the doorway — and his expression softened.

“Boys,” he said, voice warm, “I want to talk to you for a minute.”

Everyone settled. Andy sat on the edge of the bed. Joey sat beside him. Roger dropped into the desk chair. JT and Cody sat cross‑legged on the carpet.

Judge Collins took a breath.

“I want you to know how much I appreciate you today. All of you. The way you stood with me… the way you supported Andy… the way you handled yourselves in that crowd.”

He looked directly at Andy.

“Son, you showed courage. Real courage. And I’m proud of you.”

Andy’s eyes lowered, cheeks warming.

Judge Collins turned to Joey. “And you — thank you for being steady for him. You’re a good young man.”

Joey nodded, quiet but grateful.

Then the judge looked at Roger, JT, and Cody. “You three stood together like brothers. You didn’t let anything shake you. That means something.”

Roger tried to hide a smile. Cody beamed. JT ducked his head shyly.

Finally, Judge Collins glanced at Firestone and Robert. “And you two… thank you for keeping them safe.”

Firestone nodded once. Robert gave a small, respectful smile.

Judge Collins stepped toward the door.

“I’m proud of every one of you. Rest tonight. Tomorrow’s another big day.”

He opened the door, paused, and added softly, “You boys are my heart.”

Then he left.

For a moment, the room was quiet.

Then Roger stood, clapped his hands once, and said, “Alright. Group huddle. Now.”

Andy laughed. “Roger, what—”

“Nope,” Roger insisted. “Get up.”

Andy stood. Joey followed. JT and Cody scrambled up from the floor. Roger pulled them all into a loose circle — arms over shoulders, heads close.

Andy looked around at them — Joey beside him, Roger grinning, JT smiling nervously, Cody leaning into Andy’s side.

Roger spoke first, unusually serious. “Listen. Today was rough. People said stuff they shouldn’t. But we handled it. Together.”

Joey nodded. “We’re not letting anyone tear us apart.”

JT added softly, “We’re family.”

Cody squeezed Andy’s waist. “Always.”

Andy swallowed, emotion rising. “I… I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys.”

Joey bumped his forehead gently against Andy’s. “You don’t have to deserve us. We choose you.”

Roger tightened the huddle. “And we’re sticking together. No matter what. Campaign craziness, rude people, whatever comes next — we’re in it as one.”

JT whispered, “All the way.”

Cody echoed, “All the way.”

Andy felt his chest loosen — the fear, the tension, the sting of the man’s words in Pikeville — all fading under the warmth of the boys around him.

“Okay,” Andy said quietly. “All the way.”

They tightened the huddle one last time — a messy, teenage, perfect knot of loyalty — before breaking apart with soft laughs and tired smiles.

Outside, the lake shimmered under the fading light.

Inside, the boys felt stronger than ever.

 

OOOOO