Page 32 of Redemption

The smell of charcoal and cooking meat fills the air, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass. It's a perfect day for a cookout, and everyone seems to be in high spirits. Levi is expertly managing the grill, flipping burgers and rotating the hot dogs with precision.

"Hey, save some of those for me!" Renegade calls out as he strolls over, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Don't worry," Levi laughs. "I’m saving you a whole plate."

I help set up the sides on a picnic table: bowls of potato salad, bags of chips, and all the fixings for the burgers and dogs. Stella is nearby, setting up drinks and laughing with some of the kids.

Just as we're settling in to eat, Ransom decides to crank up the portable speaker he brought. The familiar beat of a song starts thumping through the air, and it doesn’t take long for me to recognize it. I glance over at Stella, already anticipating her reaction.

The unmistakable opening of "Pony" by Ginuwine blares out, and I can’t help but chuckle. Renegade is swaying to the beat, clearly having the time of his life messing with Stella. She's turning a delightful shade of pink, trying to keep a straight face.

"Really, Ransom?" she calls out, her voice teasing but with a hint of exasperation. "This again?"

The kids are giggling, and even Caleb has to snort back laughter. "He's a fucker, but it's funny," Mason says, shaking his head as he pops a chip into his mouth.

Stella rolls her eyes but can’t help smiling. She quickly shifts the focus back to the food, asking who needs what. But every now and then, her foot taps just slightly to the beat.

It's moments like these that remind me exactly why I love our chaotic crew. We might be ridiculous, but we’re ridiculous together.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the laughter around me feels almost electric. We've polished off most of the food, and the drinks are flowing easily. Caleb and Mason are deep in conversation, discussing the upcoming football season while I throw away what's left of the food.

"Who’s up for some s’mores?" I call out, drawing everyone's attention.

"Fuck yes," Ransom replies, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

The kids have scattered into little groups, some chasing each other around the yard, and others are just content to sit and watch the adults.

We start constructing the bonfire, everyone contributing in their own way. Levi and Ransom gather firewood, while Caleb takes care of arranging the seating around it. I can feel the evening cooling down, a slight breeze making the leaves rustle softly. It’s comforting, the way everyone naturally falls into place, no instruction needed.

Stella sets up the s'mores supplies on a small table near the fire: marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers stacked high. "Alright, who's first?" she asks, holding a long skewer.

"I'll go!" one of the kids yells, bouncing over with excitement. Soon, marshmallows are roasting over the vivid flames, turning golden and deliciously gooey.

"You know," Mason says, reaching to help one of the younger kids, "this always reminds me of summers when you were a kid." He nods toward Caleb.

"I'm all for stories," Stella pipes up.

"I've got one," Levi grins, the marshmallow all over his mouth. He uses his stick to prod the fire. "Remember the time we all went camping and Ransom forgot the tent?"

Renegade groans, rolling his eyes. "You just can't let things go, can you? You're not even old enough to set up a tent and you can't let me live this down, can ya?"

The story bounces back and forth between them, each adding exaggerated details, making us all erupt with laughter. Stella is nearly doubled over, her s’mores forgotten in her hand.

As the night deepens, the stars begin to dot the sky. One by one, the kids start nodding off, wrapped in blankets or leaning on a familiar shoulder. The adults continue talking, embersglowing softly in the darkness, a backdrop to our laughter and shared stories.

“There’s something really incredible about this, isn’t there?” Caleb muses quietly, sipping his drink. “Just being together. No big plans, no schedules.”

I nod in agreement. “It’s the simple stuff. Like those corny framed quotes that talk about friends being the family you choose.”

“Corny, but true,” Mason agrees, a smile playing on his lips.

Renegade raises his nearly empty glass, a solemn but joyous look crossing his face. “To chosen family then.”

“To chosen family,” we all echo, our voices mingling with the crackle of the fire and the murmur of the night wrapping around us.

Now and again, as the conversation drifts from topic to topic, I find myself savoring the quiet moments in between, when it's just the sound of the fire and the occasional rustle from the trees. It's peaceful, grounding, a stark contrast to the laughter and stories that filled the earlier evening.

Molly, half-asleep but still stubbornly participating, leans her head against my shoulder. "We should do this more often," she murmurs, her breath slow and even.

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