Page 97 of Muscle Cub

We hoped.

Maybe it was my hope that everyone saw and cheered.

The final round of applause felt like “Happy Birthday” on steroids with my crew of Bloody Mary drinkers, lumberjacks, and pool boys chanting “Prof! Prof! Prof!” Being claimed by them—not just by Austin but by all of them—mattered more to me than the title ever would.

Best Daddy. What did it even mean? It was glamour, myth, projection. The reasons why people found you attractive were about them. The labels they gave you were out of your control. But sometimes their stories about you were wonderful, and your wins were theirs too.

Jim proclaimed me the winner, and Smokey crushed my fingers in a gesture I’d have been pressed to call a handshake. My head cheerleader, who was yelling like he’d lost his ever-loving mind, nearly tackled me in a hug and dragged me back to the cabana where I was greeted with backslaps and congratulations.

By the time my ears stopped ringing and my heart rate slowed, Jim was calling the winner of the final category, Best Bear. The man reminded me of what Austin might be like twenty years from now. As Jim presented him with a leather sash that read Mr. Bear Mountain Lodge the first drops of rain hit the metal roofs.

It was like a starting gun had gone off. The guests ran for cover, Jim hurriedly thanked everyone, and the guys on staff leapt into action. Sawyer yelled for Luke, who took off running, and moments later, they were speeding up the road in some kind of badass ATV.

“They like to fuck in the rain up at the waterfall,” Austin said, grinning as he padlocked the beer cases.

“There’s a waterfall?”

“I’m only half-kidding. There’s also a dam up there Sawyer tinkers with. I’ll take you up there tomorrow.” He came out from behind the bar and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m gonna go grab some tarps.”

“Do you need my help?”

“Hang tight for a minute. When I get back, we’ll go rescue some tent campers. On the way down earlier I noticed some poor soul had set up in the cursed site. I’ll be right back.”

I looked around at the people waiting out the storm in the cabana. The Bloody Marys had gathered around an ashtray to smoke, Barry declaring he was too drunk to run through mud, and—

Christ.

Charles was pushing through the crowd toward me wearing board shorts, a blue lanyard, and a smirk. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said.

I drew myself up to my full height and squared my shoulders. “I thought it was time for a change.”

“Well, you look great. And congratulations on your… latest achievement.” He chuckled. “I voted for you, for what it’s worth.”

“Thanks,” I said, managing to not roll my eyes.

“Speaking of titles, I meant to ask you last weekend. How’s the new book coming along?”

“It’s coming,” I said, nodding. “It’s a… departure from my previous work. I’m trying something different.”

“Intriguing.” Charles narrowed his eyes. “You seem happy.”

Living well is the best revenge, I thought. I’d never put that in a book, though. It was too cliché. Besides, true happiness didn’t need revenge. “I am,” I confessed.

Austin returned with tarps under each arm, his soaking wet T-shirt clinging to his torso.

“I can definitely see why,” Charles murmured. “He’s very impressive.”

“He is,” I said. In ways you can’t even see.

“Charles! Bro!” Austin calling the dean bro amused me even more than him ignoring his preference for Charlie. “You came!”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Charles said, all smiles. “I wasn’t sure about tent camping, but I found the most amazing site right on the creek. Someone must have had to leave early or something. I can’t imagine why it would’ve gone unclaimed.”

Austin and I shared a look.

“Didya have a chance to set up some weather protection?” Austin asked.

“The tent came with a rain fly.” Charles waved dismissively. “Took less than a minute to pop it on.”