Mitch was a nervous wreck by the time he finally found a place to park at the hospital. More than once, he thought about driving right up to the front doors and just leaving his truck there. Getting a ticket or even towed was really the least of his worries at the moment.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d seen the parking lot so full, so why now? On a random Monday in August?

It didn’t make any sense to Mitch, but again—no time to worry about that shit.

He just needed to get to Jonah.

Finally, in one of the last parking spots so far away he might as well have been on the other side of town, Mitch was able to turn off his truck and check his phone again.

Still no more messages or calls from Jonah.

Nothing to tell him what was going on or if Jonah was even okay.

Mitch started to type a reply to the earlier message but gave up when his hands started shaking.

Fuck it.

He didn’t have time to waste on this, anyway.

Putting his phone away, he started walking toward the hospital, ignoring everything else around him.

Except…

Had someone just called his name?

Mitch turned his head to the side and took a quick look, but didn’t see anyone and didn’t stop walking.

“Mitchell, wait!”

He stopped in the middle of the parking lot and turned around. There was no way he’d imagined it that time, no way his mind would fuck with him by conjuring that voice.

And then, like a bad dream come to life, his dad pulled up and popped out of his shiny black pickup.

“I’ve been following you all over this damned place,” Franklin huffed. “Get in the truck. I’m going to talk some sense into that thick head of yours come hell or high water.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Mitch asked, looking around as if someone else might appear from behind a row of cars to tell him he was being pranked. Maybe he was on one of those hidden camera shows. That was the only reasonable explanation for why his dad thought there might still be a chance in hell that Mitch would want to speak with him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ve gotta get to Jonah. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“I don’t want you to see him again, Mitchell.” Mitch could see the muscles tighten in Franklin’s jaw as he clenched his teeth. “I mean it this time. If you go in there, you can forget about the deal I offered you earlier. It’ll be completely off the table.”

Mitch could barely believe what he was hearing, but he was too worked up about Jonah to let his dad get to him now. That house wasn’t important. Mitch didn’t care about it or anything that was in it.

“This is a new low, even for you, Dad.” Mitch shook his head. “I’m going in there, and there’s nothing—do you hear me?—nothing you can say or do that will stop me. You want to take your deal back? Fine. Great. Keep that fucking house. It’ll never be a home without Jonah in there with me.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Mitchell. You—”

“No.” Mitch held up a hand to cut him off. “I made the mistake when I thought you ever gave a damn about me. But I see you now, and I see through your bullshit. You’re a mean old man with a cold heart. Mom had the sense to leave you a long time ago, and now you’ve finally pushed me away, too.” Mitch could feel the hot prick of tears behind his eyes but he wasn’t about to let himself start crying now. He wasn’t going to give Franklin that satisfaction. “So yeah, you go ahead and keep that house. I hope you can fill it up with things that will make you happy. God knows I’m tired of trying.”

Mitch didn’t wait for a response. He turned and started running toward the building, anxious to make up the precious minutes he’d wasted talking to his father.

Besides, the sound of his dad’s truck speeding away behind him was the only reply Mitch needed.

He hated that it had come to this—that he would have to cut his dad out of his life after so many years of trying to bridge their differences.

But this was too much, too wide a gap to get over. If his dad couldn’t at least meet him halfway, if he couldn’t at least attempt to understand where Mitch was coming from or what he was feeling, well… Mitch was probably better off without him in his life.

Someday, maybe it wouldn’t feel so shitty.

Whatever.

Mitch could feel sorry for himself later. This moment was about Jonah.

Jonah’s health. Jonah’s needs. Jonah’s well-being. Nothing else mattered.

Not Mitch. Not Franklin.

Nothing.

Mitch fidgeted and looked around impatiently while he waited for the lady at the front desk to get off the phone. Judging from the side of the conversation Mitch could hear, the person on the other end of the line was just as agitated as Mitch felt.

He felt a moment of sympathy for the front desk employee. There were three other people next to Mitch who were clearly distraught, and there were half a dozen other lines flashing on the phone. “No, ma’am,” the front desk lady stifled a sigh as she looked up and quickly back down again, avoiding eye contact with everyone in front of her. “Yes, the story in the paper is correct. We are closing. But not today. Not right now. You will still be able to be seen by a doctor… yes, ma’am… no, ma’am… okay, I just need to put you on hold for a moment.”

“Jonah Riley,” Mitch said, waving to get her attention as soon as she put the caller on hold. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry…” she looked understandably flustered as her gaze shifted from Mitch to the other people waiting and then back again. “Who? What was the name again?”

“Jonah Riley,” Mitch repeated, then stopped himself before he could say anything else. He needed to take a breath. He needed to stay calm if he wanted her to help him. Berating the hospital staff was probably never a good idea, especially when they had the information he needed. “I just need to get to him, please. Can you please help me?”

She typed his name in and frowned, then typed again before giving Mitch an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have a Jonah Riley here. Do you know when he would have been admitted?”

“Today. Just now… just… maybe twenty minutes ago?”

Mitch was quickly forgetting about his resolution not to start giving the front desk lady a hard time. If she couldn’t help him, he’d find someone who could. He’d run up and down the halls shouting Jonah’s name if he had to.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, searching again. “I wish I could help you, but there’s nothing I can do if he’s—”

“Where is the emergency room?” he asked, cutting her off. “Can you help me with that?”

“Around on the side of the building.” She shot him an annoyed look, and he felt a pang of guilt for snapping at her. “You’ll see the signs.”

“Thank you,” he said, already starting to walk away. “Sorry for… thank you.”

It wasn’t the best apology he’d ever given, but it would have to do.

If he couldn’t get to Jonah this way, he’d have to go directly to the source. Surely someone in the emergency room—a nurse, a doctor, an ambulance driver… someone… would be able to tell him what was going on.

He resisted the urge to run down the busy corridors as he followed the signs that led to the emergency room. Jesus, how could this hospital seem like a normal-sized building on the outside but be so impossibly fucking big on the inside?

He walked and walked, searching signs and doors and faces, looking for something or someone who could give him some answers. It didn’t help that there were people everywhere.

Then Mitch turned a corner, and he was in the emergency room waiting area, among what felt like a sea of people.

He did a quick scan of the crowd to find the admitting desk and made a beeline toward it, tunnel vision blocking out everyone around him.

It wasn’t until he was halfway across the large, filled-to-capacity-and-then-some waiting area that a voice penetrated the fog in his brain.

A familiar voice.

“Mitch?”

He stopped and looked around. Had he really heard it?

No.

Maybe?

No.

“Mitch, over here.”

“Yes,” Mitch whispered, turning in the direction of that beautiful, familiar voice. “Yes, I’m here, babe. I’m here.”

The crowd of people in front of him parted just enough for Mitch to get through, and he followed the sound of that voice until he could finally confirm with his eyes what his brain and his heart already knew.

Jonah was here.

Here.

Standing in front of him, smiling and crying and looking disheveled but all in one piece and holy shit so fucking beautiful that all Mitch could do was scoop him up into his arms and hold him close for a minute.

Jonah was here.

Jonah was okay.

Everything was okay.