In a tight voice, the younger guy responds, “I’ll keep that in mind. Take care, Mr. Phelps.” The bell jingles. An engine roars past as a wave of hot hair blows in, before both are abruptly cut off by the door sealing shut once more. Heavy footfalls drag across the floor—

A throat clears loudly.

I dart my head up. I imagine my eyes are as wide as a fucking deer in headlights.

The clerk arches a bushy white brow.

Right.

I mumble an incoherent thanks to the man as he hands back my card. He slowly—too slowly—stuffs my purchases into a plastic bag. As soon as he hands it over, I hurriedly make my way outside.

Darting my wide gaze around, it doesn’t take me long to spot him.

Mason.

He’s standing only a few feet away, with his back to the store. His phone’s pressed to his ear and he doesn’t seem to have noticed me yet. I can’t make out anything he’s saying—if he’s talking at all—not that it’s really any of my concern. I’m too busy still trying to process what I just overheard.

It can’t be...I think, just as he slowly turns around.

He tenses when he catches me standing here, frozen, staring at him like I’ve just seen a ghost.

His brow furrows as he mumbles something into the phone before lowering it.

If I had any doubts before, I don’t anymore. His lip might be pierced and he’s got a full sleeve of ink; muscles where there were only lanky arms before, and hair a shade or two lighter than when we were kids—but I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere. They’re so pale, they’re nearly translucent.

“Mason?” I finally manage.

His frown only deepens. Just when I think he might not recognize me, those glacier blue orbs widen after doing a quick sweep of my features. “Holy shit, Will?”

I nod, a startled laugh escaping me.

What are the fucking odds?

A grin breaks across his face and he takes a step forward. Pulling me into a surprising hug, he pounds my back in a quick gesture that I’m a little slower to return. “What the hell, man? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Ditto,” I breathe as he pulls back.

He shakes his head in wonder. “What are you doing here?” I’m assuming he means Shiloh in general, not this gas station.

“Just passing through, I guess.”

He smiles curiously. “Passing through to where?”

I open my mouth, shut it, and frown. “Good question.”

He chuckles almost nervously, like he’s not sure what to make of me.

Me neither, pal. Me fucking neither.

Frankly, I’m a little surprised he did recognize me. But then again, I knew who he was, so it would only make sense he’d remember me right back.