Chapter 1: The Day Arrives
The gravel spat and crunched under Nick’s sneakers as he hefted another heavy-duty cooler towards the open hatch of the SUV. Sweat already prickled his temples despite the early morning coolness clinging to the mountain air. Pine resin and damp earth filled his nostrils, thick and clean.
"Easy there, champ," Tony called out, grinning as he tossed a bundle of fishing rods into the back with a careless clatter. At twenty-five, Tony was pure dense muscle, his dark chest hair visible above the collar of his faded grey tee. "Don't wanna break the beer before we even get there." He winked, the motion exaggerated under his thick brows.
Mike, leaner at twenty-two but just as strong, leaned against the SUV’s bumper, effortlessly holding two sleeping bags under one arm. "Cut him some slack, T. It’s his first pilgrimage." He smirked at Nick. "Nervous?"
Nick shoved the cooler into place, the plastic scraping against the cargo liner. "No," he lied, maybe a little too quickly. He adjusted his sweat-damp t-shirt, feeling the familiar bulk of his rugby-honed shoulders. "Just… packing heavy. Didn't know we needed enough supplies to invade a small country." He eyed the overflowing cargo space: tents, coolers, tackle boxes, stacks of firewood, bulging duffel bags. The sheer volume felt excessive for a weekend in the woods.
Tony chuckled, a low rumble. "You'll understand. Tradition ain't light, little brother." He slapped Nick firmly on the shoulder, the impact making Nick rock slightly. "It’s about shedding more than just city dust, y’know?"
Before Nick could process the cryptic comment, their dad Frank came out of the house, a bear of a man. His dark, slightly greying hair was escaping its usual messy style, his jaw shadowed with salt-and-pepper scruff. He wore work boots, jeans worn thin at the knees, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves hacked off roughly, revealing thick, hairy arms. A grin split his broad face as he slammed the house door.
"Alright, men!" Frank boomed, his voice cutting through the quiet mountain morning like a power saw. He strode over, radiating a tangible energy. "Ready to earn your stripes, kid?" He zeroed in on Nick, clapping a massive hand onto his back. The force nearly knocked the wind out of him.
Nick grinned back, the familiar weight of his dad’s approval warming him despite the surprise impact. "Ready as I'll ever be, Dad."
Frank squeezed his shoulder, his eyes crinkling. "Good. ‘Cause there’s no turning back now." He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur thick with amusement. "Hope you're ready to see the family in their natural state." He winked, an echo of Tony’s gesture but carrying decades more knowing.
Nick blinked. Natural state? Like… unshaven? Covered in fishing slime? Mike and Tony exchanged a glance, identical smirks playing on their lips. Tony coughed into his fist, disguising a laugh.
Frank turned towards the SUV, surveying the packing job. "Looking good. Mike, shift that tackle box forward. Tony, secure the firewood properly before it takes out the rear window on the first pothole." He moved with practiced efficiency, rearranging items with confident shoves. He grabbed a heavy cooler Nick had struggled with moments before and hoisted it effortlessly deeper into the cargo bay.
As they finished securing the last duffel bag, Frank slammed the hatch shut with a satisfying thunk.
The satisfying thunk of the hatch echoed in the quiet driveway. Frank clapped his hands together, sending a puff of dust motes swirling in the morning light. "Alright, pile in! Daylight's burnin'!" He gestured towards the SUV like a general commanding troops.
Tony slid into the front passenger seat without hesitation, stretching his legs out. Mike climbed into the middle row, leaving the window seat open. Nick hesitated for a fraction of a second before ducking into the space beside Mike, the worn leather upholstery creaking under his weight. Frank hauled himself into the driver’s seat, the entire vehicle rocking slightly on its suspension. He turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and cranked the AC. Cool, pine-scented air blasted from the vents.
Before they’d even pulled onto the main gravel road leading away from the house, Tony twisted around, a wide grin splitting his face. "So, Nicky-boy," he started, his voice thick with implication. "You packed extra socks?"
Nick frowned, confused. "Socks? Why?"
Mike snorted beside him. "Trust me, little bro. You’ll wanna have ‘em. Especially after… you know." He waggled his eyebrows dramatically.
Frank chuckled, steering the SUV onto the paved county road that wound up into the mountains. The dense pines closed in, casting long, cool shadows. "Ignore ‘em, Nick. They’re just bustin’ your balls. Standard procedure." He shot a glance at Nick in the rearview mirror. "But they ain't entirely wrong. This trip… it’s different."
He settled deeper into the driver's seat, one thick forearm resting casually on the open window frame. "Been doin' this since my old man brought me up when I turned eighteen. Every year, without fail. Just the Romano men. Grandpa Sal started it back in the day, after Nonno Vincenzo settled here." Frank’s voice took on a familiar, storytelling cadence. "No women. No phones buzzing. No bullshit rules. Just us, the woods, the lake, and… well, tradition."
Nick shifted, the leather sticking slightly to his thighs. "Tradition like… fishing? Campfires?"
Tony barked a laugh. "Oh, we fish. We build fires. We drink beer till we can't see straight." He leaned further back, his gaze sharp on Nick. "But the main tradition? Bein' free. Completely free. No fuckin' constraints."
Frank nodded, his expression serious for a moment before easing back into its usual gruff warmth. "Exactly. It’s about shedding everything that ain't essential. City life. Jobs. Expectations. Up at the cabin, you’re just a man. Among men." He paused, letting the rumble of the engine fill the silence for a beat. "And for you, Nick, this year’s special. Your initiation year."
Nick’s stomach did a slow flip. "Initiation?" He tried to keep his voice casual, but it came out a little thin.
"Relax," Frank said, a reassuring rumble. "Nothin’ scary. Just… rites of passage. Things every Romano man does when he joins the fold. Helps you adjust." He flashed a quick grin. "You’ll enjoy yourself. Guaranteed."
Mike nudged Nick’s shoulder. "Yeah, ‘adjust’ is one word for it." He smirked. "Remember your first time, T?"
Tony grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. "Oh, I remember. Nearly jumped outta my skin. Course, now I know Uncle Marco’s got nothin’ on Dad’s low-hangers when he’s been choppin’ wood all day in the sun."
Frank snorted. "Watch it, smartass. Respect your elders." But there was no real heat in it.
Mike leaned closer to Nick, lowering his voice conspiratorially, though everyone could hear. "Seriously, Nick. Be prepared. The… openness… takes some gettin’ used to." He gave Nick’s arm a meaningful squeeze. "No hiding anything up there."
Tony chimed in again, his voice dripping with crude amusement. "Yeah, no point tryin’ to be modest. Ain't no locker room stalls in the woods, kid. You shower, you piss, you scratch your ass… it’s all out in the open. Part of the deal." He laughed. "Hope you packed your confidence along with those extra socks."
Nick stared out the window at the blur of green pines, feeling a slow heat creep up his neck that had nothing to do with the sun warming the glass. The easy vulgarity, the casual mentions of nudity, the word "initiation" hanging heavy in the air… it painted a picture far removed from the fishing trip he’d vaguely imagined. His brothers’ knowing smirks felt less like teasing and more like warnings.
Frank caught his eye in the mirror again. His gaze was steady, understanding the whirlwind in his youngest son’s head. "Like I said, Nick," he repeated, his voice firm but kind. "You’ll adjust. And you’ll enjoy it." He gave a slow, deliberate wink. "Trust me." The wink lingered, heavy with unspoken promises and the weight of generations of Romano men who’d made this same drive, facing the same unknown threshold. The SUV hummed onward, climbing deeper into the mountains, carrying Nick towards a weekend that suddenly felt vast, unfamiliar, and charged with something primal he couldn't yet name.