Rhys had only been browsing his Instagram feed for three minutes when his plate of lasagna arrived, the ceramic burning hot to the touch.

The waitress had already moved on to the next table by the time he looked up, the lettuce on his plate beginning to wilt from the heat.

He picked up a fork, prodding the lasagna. Either they’d already had a lasagna in the oven when he ordered, or…

As Rhys pulled the center apart a billow of steam erupted, almost searing his face.

Microwaved.

He’d just paid nearly eight dollars for a microwaved meal.

Once more, Rhys found his thoughts drifting back to Hidden Creek. The food at Phoenix was streets ahead. And Rocket beat them by a mile, especially their peanut butter cream pie.

He let his ‘meal’ cool before swallowing down the wet mixture of canned tomatoes and soggy beef, the sheets of pasta like clumps of wet tissue paper in his mouth.

“How’s your food?” his waitress barked as she paused by his table, the moment after Rhys had put a large mouthful in to chew.

“Oh, great,” Rhys lied once more, not wanting to make a fuss.

The waitress wandered off, leaving Rhys to finish what barely passed as food.

He might have felt emboldened after his gas station face-up, but he wasn’t going to kick up a fuss everywhere he went from now on.

When Rhys clattered his knife and fork on the plate, he decided he didn’t want to stay around. He grabbed a ten from his wallet, leaving that by his plate along with some loose change. More than the standard twenty percent tip — it wasn’t the waitress’s fault the food was so abysmal.

As he made his way to the car, his phone vibrated, just the once. He’d received some likes on his Instagram feed. He paused, his notification bar showing a picture of Mason.

Rhys stood perplexed in the middle of the parking lot.

He opened Instagram, double-checking. Mason had indeed made an Instagram profile and had liked some of the pics of his made-over shop.

Rhys was brought out of his thoughts by a car horn.

“Get outta the way, buddy!” the angry driver called from behind the wheel.

“Sorry!” he replied, jogging to the edge of the sidewalk. His red Impala was on the other side of the street. The driver sped past as Rhys moved out of the way.

He headed back to his Impala, jumping behind the wheel. As Rhys looked in the mirror, he caught himself grinning from ear to ear.

Even if it was just a little heart symbol on Instagram, hearing from Mason made him feel all better. Like he was still watching over him.

Rhys double-checked both streams of traffic before pulling out, heading back toward I-45. He’d be on that highway all the way to Dallas. Two hundred miles away.

He drove toward the interstate, wondering what Mason would be up to. Probably stopping to grab lunch sometime soon.

Rhys wished he could drive back, share one last meal with him.

But he needed to get home.

He paused at a red light, looking at the sign ahead. Right led north on the freeway. Left, back south.

He imagined what taking either road would feel like.

To the right — his family. Who he got along with, loved in his own way. But deep down, he knew he would never truly be in sync with.

To the right — his new job. Deputy manager of a hardware supply store. He could put his business degree to good use and his horticultural knowledge — really get the business going. A job he could do well in. Make some good money, needed more than ever in today’s economy.

To the right — nothing that made him truly excited. That made his eyes widen in joy. That made him excited to get in the morning.

To the left — Mason.

The car behind honked their horn. The light had turned green.

Rhys turned on his indicators, pulling out into the road.

Within minutes, he was back on I-45. This time he put his music on, and Queen blasted out of his phone in its cradle.

He didn’t need the GPS. He knew the way back to Hidden Creek.

Rhys pulled up outside of Mason’s Body Shop. The tow truck was still outside, so Rhys knew Mason wouldn’t be out on a call. He double-checked how he looked in the mirror. A little worse for wear, but he had been crying for half the morning.

He paused in the car, his stomach suddenly sizzling with nerves.

Had he honestly just driven nearly fifty miles back into town just because Mason had left a like on some Instagram pics?

He’d just abandoned his life, the one laid out for him, because of one little heart symbol.

But Mason had left it there for a reason. It was a risk, like the ‘getting to know you’ night on the rooftop. There was no way he could feel worse than he had that morning. He had to find out how Mason felt.

He practically leaped out of the Impala, rushing into the shop. All he saw was Lily, filling up a watering can in the sink.

“You’re back fast. Did you find him?” Lily looked up as she saw Rhys, her eyes widened in delight. “Rhys!” she squeaked, almost dropping the can. “Mason found you?”

Rhys frowned, looking up the stairs to the apartment. “He’s not here?”

It was Lily’s turn to frown, putting down the watering can and turning off the tap.

“You haven’t seen him?” she asked, her eyes widening even further, this time in worry.

“Not since I left this morning,” Rhys told her. “Do you know where he is? I really need to talk to him.”

“He went out looking for you,” Lily said. “Said he was going to win you back.”

Rhys almost gasped, feeling lightheaded.

Mason had gone and done the same thing he had. At the same time.

He began to chuckle. It quickly turned to a hearty laugh, his cheeks hurting from the grin.

“What?” Lily asked, still concerned.

“He headed out the same time I decided to come back,” Rhys explained, the laugh releasing the tension in his shoulders. “We probably passed each other without realizing!”

Rhys composed himself as Lily barked out a laugh. “You couldn’t have just called one another?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t be dramatic enough,” Rhys explained, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed up Mason, the call quickly connecting.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end asked. Rhys frowned once more. That definitely wasn’t Mason. He double-checked the caller ID to make sure he’d dialed the right number.

“Err, hi, I’m looking for Mason? He’s a friend of mine. I really need to talk to him.” Rhys began to pace the garage. Lily raised her eyebrow, clearly wondering what was going on.

“This is Kyle Harris. I’m a nurse at Hidden Creek Memorial,” the man on the phone informed him. “Your friend was admitted about a half hour ago. He was in a traffic accident. I think you should get down here.”

Rhys stopped dead in his tracks.

Turns out he’d been wrong.

He absolutely could feel worse than he had that morning.

Rhys’s hands were shaking so much he could hardly type the hospital address into his phone.

Mason had been hit by a drunk driver.

He was in the ER.

What if the last thing Rhys did to him was drive off without looking back?

What if…

Someone gently lowered Rhys’s hands.

Lily. Lily was still here.

“I’ll drive,” she told him.

“But…” Rhys looked around the shop.

“We only have a few customers tonight, but I don’t even know if I’m legally allowed to sign them in without Mason’s approval,” she told him. “And you’re in no condition to drive.”

“I can…” He looked up at Lily, who looked blurry from the tears in his eyes. “…okay.”

“I’ll lock up. We’ll go. I’ll come back, feed Socket, call the clients for today and explain, then drop by to see how y’all are doing.” She laid out her plan as she gently guided Rhys to the door.

Socket. Rhys had forgotten all about her in his panic.

Within minutes, Lily had done exactly what she’d set out to do. The doors were locked, and they were in her purple Saab on their way to Hidden Creek Memorial, the radio off.

The drive was less than ten minutes, but every second Rhys could feel his chest getting tighter, his worry turning to anger. Why the fuck had this happened right when he’d decided he needed to be with Mason?

If he’d realized that this morning, Mason wouldn’t have gone out to follow him. Then he wouldn’t be in the god damn ER.

This was all Rhys’s fault.

Lily screeched to a halt in the ambulance bays.

“I’ll find parking later. Go!” she barked at him, an aging security guard already waddling over to her purple Saab.

Rhys tore out, slamming the car door behind him as Lily sped off. He rushed past the security guard, entering the building. He headed directly to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Mason O’Neil. He was in a traffic accident.” Saying the words out loud made Rhys almost choke.

The receptionist typed on the keyboard, her acrylic nails clanking every time they hit a key. Rhys was amazed she was able to type at all.

“He’s just been moved to his own room,” she told him.

“Is that good or bad?” Rhys had no idea. “What room is he in? Can I see him?”

“Are you family?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Rhys grunted in frustration. He didn’t have time for a receptionist to question his whole life story or relationship with Mason.

“I love him,” he curtly told her, leaning over the desk.

“Hey!” she snapped at him.

Room sixteen.

He leaned back up as she scowled at him.

“Thank you for your time,” he replied, looking for a sign or building map.

The plaque read Rooms 10-21 next to a big black arrow.

Rhys darted down the corridor, almost crashing into the gurney being wheeled down the corridor.

“Sorry!” he called out as he headed further into the hospital, the smell of disinfectant almost overwhelming his nostrils.

He came through an area filled with patients, beds on either side.

“So you confirm that this is your bottle of vodka in the car? The same one you were drinking this morning?” a commanding voice asked one of the patients.

Rhys paused.

Mason had been hit by a drunk driver.

“You got nothing on me, pal,” a smug voice replied.

Rhys felt every muscle in his body tense at once, his fists so tight his nails dug into the palms of his hands. He let go, seeing crescent moon indents in his skin.

He slowly turned around to the bed behind him.

There was a police officer standing next to it, the patient handcuffed to one of the railings. It took Rhys a second to recognize him in a hospital gown instead of a blue coverall.

“Tristan!” Rhys bellowed as he glared at him, everyone in the room now looking at him. For the second time that day.

Rhys marched over, fury coursing through him.

“You know this man- WHOA!” The officer stepped in front of Rhys, blocking his path to Tristan.

“You crashed into Mason on purpose?” Rhys accused Tristan.

“No, that granny was going ten below the limit. I had to overtake her,” Tristan shot back. “Wasn’t my fault he pulled out like a maniac.”

“We’ve already got you on a traffic cam going above the speed limit.” The officer turned to tell Tristan.

“…Oh,” Tristan meekly replied.

“Mason, room sixteen, where is it?” Rhys turned back to the officer. He’d deal with Tristan later.

“Just down there, son,” the officer told him. Rhys glanced down his name badge. Officer Steve Marcus.

“Thank you, Steve,” Rhys said sincerely as he headed further into the hospital, down toward some cornered-off rooms.

As soon as he found room sixteen, he burst in through the door, startling the young male nurse by their side.

“Yikes, you scared me,” he told Rhys.

Again, he looked at the name tag. Kyle, the nurse was called.

Rhys turned to Mason. Instead of his usual tight white T-shirt or blue coverall, he was wearing a hospital gown. Lying back in the bed, he was staring off at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over. For the first time ever, he looked small to Rhys, like he was being swallowed by the bed.

“Mason?” Rhys choked out a sob.

Mason turned to face him, smiling sweetly at him.

“Rhys!” Mason excitedly replied. He sat up in his bed before clutching his side.

“He’s got a couple bruised ribs,” Kyle told him. “And we’re keeping an eye out for a concussion. He let go of the brakes so the car took most of the force. Clever move.”

Kyle’s pager beeped. He sighed as he pressed a button on it.

“You could help, actually. Make sure he stays conscious, at least until I get back,” Kyle instructed Rhys before heading out the door.

“Thank you,” Rhys faintly called out, long after Kyle had left the room.

He then turned back to Mason, still smiling at him.

“Look, every mile I drove away from you, the worse I felt,” Rhys began. He’d been thinking about what to say the whole fifty miles back, but now all those words had gone out the window. “I’ve got my whole life laid out for me. But I can’t imagine a second without you.”

Rhys grabbed the chair on the side of the room, dragging it over to sit next to Mason. As he sat down, he grabbed Mason’s hand, squeezing tight.

“Mason O’Neil, I love you. I couldn’t bear to think of you leaving me without hearing that. I love you,” Rhys proclaimed, staring into Mason’s eyes.

Mason gleamed up at Rhys before gently sliding his hand out from Rhys’s and reaching forward.

He stopped, glaring at his hands.

“Mason, you all right?” Rhys asked.

“Fingers are weird,” Mason declared before looking at Rhys. His eyes widened with delight. “Rhys! You’re here!”

“Err, yeah, didn’t you hear what I said?” Rhys asked, confused.

“I’m so glad you came back. My life is so much better with you in it,” Mason told him.

Rhys smiled, happy to hear it, as Mason leaned back in his bed. As he did, Rhys saw the IV drip hanging next to his bed, along with another medication. Rhys could just read the label.

Morphine.

Mason was high as a kite.

Rhys sighed in relief before sitting back down next to Mason. Who probably wouldn’t even remember a word of their conversation.

He took Mason’s hand again. He turned around to face Rhys, his eyes lighting up once more.

“Your flowers, I need to find them!” Mason leaned forward to get up, gasping, clutching his ribs.

“We’ll find them later,” Rhys assured him, internally wondered what he meant. Had he bought flowers for Rhys?

“You’re a good man person,” Mason told him sincerely as he lay back down. “I’m glad you came back.”

“So am I,” Rhys truthfully replied.

Rhys looked into Mason’s piercing turquoise eyes once more.

How could he have ever left?