The Field of Love - 22. Chapter 22

Field of Love

Chapter 22

Andy had been through a lot of things in his young life, but nothing like being on the campaign trail as the son of a candidate running for Governor of a State. His father had been right in warning him that many people would be nice to him only to want something from him in return.

Case in point, one man cornered him at the horse ranch dinner when no one was close by to compliment him on his looks and perfect body shape. And then the man proceeded to ask if he was free tonight for a little fun. He went on to brag about how much he was worth and how much fun he could provide.

Andy had let him finish.

Then without embellishing or raising his voice, he made three things clear: he wasn't interested — though he was flattered; he had a boyfriend; and his own assets were considerably larger.

The man’s grin faltered, and Andy walked away without another word. He could feel his pulse in his throat, not from fear but from the sharp realization that his father had been right — charm could be a mask, and attention could come with a price.

Later that night, back at the Embassy Suites, Andy stood alone in his room. The city lights of Lexington shimmered through the window, painting faint gold lines across the carpet. He loosened his tie and stared at his reflection in the mirror — the same face that had smiled through handshakes and photo ops all evening.

He thought about the man’s words, about the way power and money could twist people’s intentions. Then he thought about Joey, about honesty, about the kind of love that didn’t need to be bought or bargained for.

Andy exhaled slowly. “Dad was right,” he murmured. “But I’m not him. I’ll handle it my way.”

He turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into soft darkness. Outside, the hum of traffic faded, and for the first time that night, Andy felt calm — proud of himself for standing his ground, and quietly certain that integrity was the one asset no one could ever take from him.

OOOOO

The smell of coffee and scrambled eggs filled the hotel dining area. Sunlight streamed through the tall glass atrium, catching the edges of the tables where guests chatted quietly. Andy sat across from Joey, a plate of pancakes untouched in front of him.

Joey noticed right away. “You didn’t sleep much,” he said softly.

Andy gave a small shrug. “Not really.”

Joey leaned forward. “Something happened last night?”

Andy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. At the ranch.”

Joey’s expression shifted — concern, not curiosity. “What kind of ‘something’?”

Andy took a breath. “One of the donors cornered me when no one was around. Started complimenting me — my looks, my body. Then he asked if I was free for ‘a little fun.’ Said he was worth more than anyone there and could show me a good time.”

Joey’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” Andy looked down at his coffee. “I stopped him right there. Told him I wasn’t interested, that I have a boyfriend, and that I’ve got larger assets than he does.”

Joey blinked, then laughed quietly. “You actually said that?”

Andy smiled faintly. “Yeah. It just came out. I didn’t want to make a scene, but I wasn’t going to let him think he could talk to me like that.”

Joey nodded slowly. He sat back, the tension leaving his shoulders, and the corner of his mouth lifted — just barely. "You handled it perfectly. That's exactly what your dad meant when he said people would try to use you."

Andy sighed. “I get it now. It’s not just politics — it’s people. Some see you as a name, not a person.”

Joey reached across the table, resting his hand briefly on Andy’s arm. “You did the right thing. You kept your dignity. That’s what matters.”

Andy looked up, meeting his eyes. “Thanks. I just needed to tell someone who’d understand.”

Joey smiled. “You’ve got me for that. Always. Besides, you know my background with my father. He wasn’t wrong about a lot of things. One of the points he liked to make and in this situation let me ask you. Even if five old men came up and propositioned you, who would still be the King of Kings? And if five men came up and complimented you, who would still be the King of Kings? The point being, no matter what happens to us in life, as long as we are right with ourselves and know who is in charge, nothing else matters.”

Andy nodded his understanding and smiled broadly. “I have my very own spiritual advisor and philosopher.”

Joey laughed softly, but there was something quiet behind it — the kind of calm that comes from surviving storms. Andy knew enough of Joey’s history to recognize that his strength hadn’t come easy. The words about being “right with ourselves” carried weight because Joey had learned them the hard way.

The tension eased. Andy finally picked up his fork, taking a bite of pancake. The morning chatter around them felt normal again — campaign staff talking schedules, the Judge greeting supporters near the buffet, Roger checking his phone by the door.

Andy glanced toward his father, then back at Joey. “Guess it’s another day on the trail.”

Joey grinned. “Yeah. But at least you’re starting it stronger than you ended the last one.”

Andy smiled, the weight lifting just a little. “I’ll take that.”

OOOOO

After his five‑mile run, Sammy’s muscles still hummed with energy as his father dropped him off at the bottom of the school hill. He eyed the ninety steep steps and decided to circle around the gym instead. The morning air was cool, and he could already picture Mike’s grin waiting at the top.

But as Sammy rounded the far corner of the gym, he nearly collided with Brent and two of his friends. The surprise froze all four for a heartbeat—then Brent sneered, stepping forward.

The three of them spread out near the gym entrance like they'd rehearsed it — Brent in the center, his two boys flanking wide. A classic pincer. Sammy clocked it immediately and didn't move. He just breathed

Chuluaqui. The word surfaced in his mind the way his uncle had taught him — not as a thought, but as a feeling. The primordial current running beneath everything. The earth under his feet wasn't concrete. It was alive. He let that energy rise through the soles of his shoes, up through his legs, settling low in his hips.

He dropped his center of gravity without anyone noticing.

Brent came first — always the alpha, always impatient. He threw a wide right hook, the kind that looked devastating in a mirror. Sammy didn't block it. He received it — stepping inside the arc, letting Brent's momentum carry past him like water around a stone. His left hand redirected the arm downward while his right elbow found Brent's jaw in a short, tight arc.

Not a punch. An extension of the earth's force, borrowed and returned.

Brent staggered. The flankers moved.

The one on the left — stocky, low center of gravity — came in with a grab. Sammy let him get the grip, then used it. He dropped to one knee, a ground-fighting transition so fluid it looked like a stumble until it wasn't. From below, he swept the stocky kid's lead leg and torqued his own body upward simultaneously, sending the kid over his shoulder and into the chain-link fence with a sound like a thunderclap.

Fighting from the ground isn't a last resort, his uncle had said. It's a weapon.

The third one hesitated. That half-second was everything.

Sammy rose from the ground in one motion — circular, unhurried — and closed the distance before the kid could reset. He didn't strike. He controlled. A wrist lock, applied with the precision of someone who'd drilled it ten thousand times, walked the kid backward until his back hit the gym wall and his knees buckled.

"Done?" Sammy asked quietly.

The kid nodded fast.

Brent was still on the ground, working his jaw, trying to figure out what had just happened. The stocky one wasn't getting up quickly.

Sammy stepped back, breathing steady, hands open at his sides. The warrior spirit his uncle had spoken of wasn't rage — it was clarity. The fight was over the moment it began, because he had never once lost his center.

He touched his lip. Split. He pressed his tongue against it and tasted copper. His ribs ached where Brent had landed a glancing shot during the clinch — he'd taken it to give the elbow, a trade he'd make again. He rolled his shoulder, catalogued the damage, and walked away from the gym without looking back.

With clarity the warrior in Sammy felt deep in his bones that Andy needed protecting. That was the mission. Everything else was just physics.

After it was all over, Sammy stood breathing hard, his lip split and ribs aching, but the other boys backed away, nursing bruises and pride. Sammy wiped the blood from his mouth, straightened his backpack, and walked toward the steps. He’d won, but the sting reminded him that even victories can hurt.

Sammy climbed the last few steps, his ribs aching with every breath. The sting on his lip reminded him of Brent’s wild swing, but the quiet victory gave him a strange calm. As he reached the top of the hill, he spotted Mike waiting near the lockers, waving like always.

Mike’s grin faded the moment he saw Sammy’s face. “Whoa, what happened?” he asked, rushing over.

“Ran into Brent and his crew,” Sammy muttered, pressing a hand to his side. “Didn’t exactly go for a friendly chat.”

Mike frowned, scanning the bruises. “You should’ve just come up the steps. I told you those guys hang around the gym.”

Sammy shrugged. “Didn’t plan on a fight. It just… happened.”

Mike sighed, pulling a water bottle from his bag and handing it over. “You need to get that lip cleaned up before Coach sees you. He’ll flip.”

Sammy took a sip, wincing. “Yeah, I’ll hit the nurse’s office. But Brent won’t be bothering anyone for a while.”

Mike smirked. “Guess you showed him what five miles before breakfast can do.”

Sammy chuckled softly, then winced again. “Next time, I’ll stick to the stairs.”

The two walked toward the school doors together, the morning sun catching the faint smear of blood on Sammy’s chin—a quiet reminder that strength sometimes comes with scars.

OOOOO

The morning light leaked through the thin motel curtains, painting stripes across the worn carpet. Judge Collins stood near the small table by the window, flipping through his folder while the boys finished breakfast from room service — eggs, toast, orange juice and milk.

“Alright, gentlemen,” he said, tapping the folder. “Here’s the plan for today.”

The boys looked up. Andy wiped his hands on a napkin, Joey leaned back in his chair, Roger stretched until the chair creaked,and JT and Cody finished their food quickly.

“First stop: Eastern Kentucky University in Richmond. We’ll meet some college students in the university gym — give a short speech, shake hands, and answer questions.” He glanced at Roger, “keep it friendly.”

“Got it,” Andy said.

“Second,” the Judge continued, “we head to Hazard for dinner with local and state officials and donors at The Prime Steakhouse.”

Roger grinned. “Now that’s the kind of politics I can get behind.”

“And then,” the Judge said, closing the folder, “we head home to Pine Hills. Long day ahead, so keep sharp.”

He looked at each of them in turn. “You boys represent me out there. Be respectful, be smart, and remember — people notice how you carry yourselves.”

Roger saluted. “Yes, sir. We’ll be saints.”

Joey laughed. “That’ll be the day.”

The Judge smiled faintly. “Let’s move.”

OOOOO

The university gym buzzed with chatter and echoing footsteps. Students gathered in clusters, curious about the campaign visit. Andy walked beside his father, Joey close behind, Roger and Sammy trailing like a small entourage.

Most of the crowd was friendly — handshakes, smiles, a few selfies. But near the bleachers, a group of young men leaned against the wall, smirking.

One of them called out, “Hey, look at the lovebirds!”

Another added, “Didn’t know this was a pride parade!”

A few laughed. The sound cut through the gym like a slap.

Andy’s jaw tightened, but he kept walking. Joey’s face flushed, eyes fixed on the floor.

Roger stopped cold. “You got something to say?” he shot back, voice steady but sharp. “Say it like a man.”

The boys blinked, caught off guard.

Roger stepped forward just enough to make them flinch. “You think mocking people makes you tough? It just makes you small.”

Robert touched his arm. “Roger, come on. Not worth it.”

Roger held their gaze a moment longer, then turned away. “Yeah. Not worth it.”

Andy exhaled slowly. “Thanks,” he murmured.

Roger shrugged. “Some folks need reminding of what respect looks like.”

The Judge, who’d seen the exchange from across the gym, gave Andy a quiet nod — proud, but cautious.

The Judge then stepped to the microphone. ““Good morning, everyone. It’s a privilege to stand here among the next generation of thinkers, builders, and dreamers.

“You’re at an age where the world feels both wide open and uncertain. You’re told to chase success, but rarely told what success means. Let me tell you — it’s not just about money or titles. It’s about character. It’s about how you treat people when no one’s watching, and how you stand up when someone’s being pushed down.

“You’ll make mistakes — we all do. But don’t let fear of failure keep you from trying. The people who change the world aren’t the ones who never fall; they’re the ones who get back up and keep walking.

“So study hard, yes. But also listen, care, and lead with kindness. Because the future isn’t waiting for perfect people — it’s waiting for you.”

Judge Collis looked out at the couple of hundred students that came to hear him and turned back to the microphone. “Now I would like to show you what I mean by and example. My sons and I will mingle and listen to you and learn your needs and what you would like to see the Governor of this Commonwealth do for you, your family, and your community.”

OOOOO

The van hummed along the mountain highway, the hills rolling past in shades of green and gray. Joey dozed against the window. Roger scrolled through his phone. Roger hummed tunelessly. Andy stared out at the horizon.

“You okay?” Joey asked softly.

Andy nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Roger put away his phone and turned down the radio. “Don’t let idiots ruin your day. You handled it right.”

Andy smiled faintly. “You handled it louder.”

Roger grinned. “That’s my specialty.”

The restaurant glowed with warm light and the smell of grilled steak. Local officials and donors filled the tables, laughter mixing with the clink of glasses. The Judge moved easily among them, shaking hands, trading stories.

The boys sat together near the front, plates piled high. Roger leaned back, satisfied. “If politics always came with ribeye, I’d campaign every day.”

Joey laughed. “You’d campaign for dessert.”

Andy smiled, finally relaxed. Roger just nodded, savoring his meal.

Across the room, the Judge caught Andy’s eye and gave him a small, approving nod — the kind that said you did good today.

By the time they reached Pine Hills, the night was deep and quiet. The full moon shone brightly outside. Andy stretched, Joey yawned, Roger groaned about his full stomach, and once out of the van, the boys carried everyone’s bags.

Judge Collins locked the van and looked at them. “You boys did well. I’m proud of you.”

Andy smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

The Judge nodded once, then headed inside. The boys followed, tired but content — the kind of tired that comes from standing tall when it mattered.

OOOOO

The clock on Sammy’s nightstand glowed 10:42 p.m. Outside, Pine Hills was quiet except for the hum of crickets and the distant sound of a car heading down Main Street. Sammy lay back on his bed, scrolling through messages until his phone buzzed — Mike calling.

“Hey,” Sammy said, smiling as he answered.

“Hey,” Mike replied. His voice was calm, familiar. “You hear? Andy, Joey, and Roger got back tonight.”

“Yeah, I saw the Judge’s post,” Sammy said. “Bet they’re wiped out. That trip sounded like a marathon.”

Mike laughed softly. “Roger probably talked the whole way home.”

“Guaranteed,” Sammy said. “Andy’s probably already asleep.”

There was a pause — comfortable, but weighted.

“Sammy,” Mike said, “I talked to James tonight.”

Sammy sat up a little. “You did?”

“Yeah. I told him about us — about how I feel. He said he’s okay with it. He even thinks our parents would be, too.”

For a moment, Sammy didn’t speak. Relief hit him like a rush of air after holding his breath too long.

“Mike, that’s… that’s huge,” he said finally. “You’ve been stressing about that for weeks.”

Mike exhaled, a quiet laugh in his voice. “I know. I thought he’d be weird about it, but he wasn’t. He said he just wants me to be happy.”

Sammy smiled, eyes soft. “That’s all anyone should want for you.”

Mike’s voice warmed. “It feels like things are finally okay.”

“Better than okay,” Sammy said. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

They talked a while longer — about the Judge’s chances, about the team, about how good it felt to have things back to normal with their friends back in town. When they finally said goodnight, both boys lay in their own rooms, miles apart but smiling into the dark, feeling lighter than they had in a long time.

OOOOO