Page 11 of Embers Glow After the Fire

“Coffee’s in the pot if you’d like some.”

“Mmm, —yes please!” His sleepy eyes brighten, and an extra pep kicks up his step as he trots toward the machine. He gathers a mug from the hanging rack under the cabinets and fills it with steaming brew.

Bacon sizzles in a frying pan and the toaster pops four slices of golden bread.

His stomach rumbles a plea and he answers with a hefty pinch of blueberries.

Dennis pours perfectly uniform mounds of spotted batter onto an electric skillet. “Do me a favor?”

“Of course!”

“Grab the pitcher of juice in the fridge and some glasses for the table?”

He sets his coffee on the island and does as requested.

Robbie waddles into the room, damp from a shower, and heads straight for the coffee pot, stepping in to kiss Dennis’ hairy cheek before taking the first sip.

Papa Bear pats his husband on the butt when Robbie turns to walk toward the patio table.

Jamie and Nathan round the side of the house to join them, with the little gray cat on its leash. Shortly after Perry, Eli, and lastly, Phoenix emerge from their caves. Everyone helps themselves to the late breakfast spread, while Nathan shares a story about forgetting to bring Rosy into the motorhome last night. The couple had nearly fallen asleep before realizing it. She was sitting on the hood, glaring at him, when he finally let her in. The sweet little cat happily gnaws on slabs of bacon, listening along with everyone.

***

The early afternoon sun radiates down on the party as they lounge about the grassy knoll in the backyard. Dennis, Jamie, and Matthew are chatting on a row of lawn chairs while sipping from-scratch brewed sweet tea with lemon wedges. Robbie, Phoenix, Eli, Nathan, and Brendon are all playing a game of horseshoes and laughing at Phoenix's inability to come anywhere near hooking the steel post with his aim. Sweet Eli scurries to the tree line to gather the foul horseshoes every time his darling crush fumbles a throw. Perry had excused himself, after brunch, to go read in his air-conditioned room.

The group can’t resist sneaking occasional glances at the bronzed blonde twink sporting another barely-there cropped muscle tank and hot pink painted-on swim trunks, printed with a scattering of bright yellow bananas. Phoenix loves every bit of the attention, arching his back, flexing his assets, and winking at each guest under turquoise aviators, when he catches them ogling him.

Matthew is the only one whose attention is focused elsewhere.

Brendon’s eyes meet Nathan’s and they both burst into laughter when Phoenix trips over his own feet, attempting to pose and toss another wildly off-target turn.

Eli chases the rogue horseshoe into the bushes.

Phoenix scowls and knots his arms over his chest. “Brendon, let's go swimming?” He prances up and hangs off Brendon’s arm. “This is boring—and I’m hot.” His eyelashes flutter. “Aren’t you?”

Eli’s face drops on his way back

Nathan winks.

Brendon resists rolling his eyes. ”Sure. Let's go.” He notices Matthew watching with little empathy.

Matthew mouths, "Have fun,’" tilting his sunglasses and jeering.

“C’mon El," Brendon says. "We’re going swimming.” He hopes a tag-along will be a good buffer between Phoenix and himself.

Eli’s face lights up, trotting behind. The trio follows a ruddy path that winds down to the lake at the base of the valley. It's part of a large stream that cuts through the forest and serves as a shared beach for the handful of cabins connected by a web of trails jetting off in all directions.

Brendon steps cautiously over occasional sprouts and exposed tree roots jutting up from the impacted soil. Phoenix stomps ahead, unphased by obstacles, peering back to check if his backside is getting the attention he's vying for but discouraged when only Eli’s hungry eyes are taking the bait.

The tree cover and dense shrubbery end at the beach. A family of ducklings quack an alert and flap across the glassy surface for a quieter spot down-shore.

Phoenix wastes no time ditching the strip of fabric he considers a shirt and stretching his sculpted torso. Running hands over tight abs and pumped pecs, his fingertips tease tiny nipples erect as he kicks away his banana-yellow flip-flops and runs toward the water. “Come on boys,” he calls back.

Brendon plops down on the mossy log bench laid across the beach. Eli sits a few feet to his side.

“Not joining him?” Brendon asks.

“Nah.” Eli shrugs.

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