Page 112 of If the World Was Ending

Colby grabbed his wrist and pulled him down on top of him. They kissed leisurely like they didn’t have any reason not to. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be. Until the phone rang again. “I know that was the best orgasm of my life, but did it give me a stroke? Because I keep hearing my song.”

Hunter fought a blush as he reluctantly got off the bed and walked toward his discarded jacket in a heap on the carpet in the hall by the door. “It’s my ringtone.”

Colby’s whole face brightened. “You fucking love me.”

Hunter didn’t respond. His eyes were glued to the screen display of his phone. It wasn’t Lorne or his friends. It was his dad.

Chapter 37

The damage is already done

He walked out of the makeup trailer and onto set sixteen days later with a script rolled up under his arm. He knew his lines, but lately he was forgetting his own name, so he figured it didn’t hurt to run them while he was in the makeup chair. Jack Byrne was sitting in his cast chair playing with his phone, not bothering to look up. The crew members who did look at him all flashed him sympathetic smiles. It didn’t make him feel worse, but it also didn’t make him feel better.

Andi walked away from the monitor she was looking at and came over to him with open arms. She smiled sympathetically too, and that filled Hunter with relief. Because it was her film he’d completely fucked with. “Hi Hunter. Welcome back. Thanks for doing this. I know it’s the worst possible time.”

Hunter blinked as his eyes got hot. “I’m so sorry I had to take off at all. I know it cost everybody money and I?—”

Andi was shaking her head, her dark brown bob bouncing around her ears. “Do not apologize. And for the record, I’m sorry you had to take time off too, but not because of the film or the money. Because of why you had to do it. How is she doing?”

Hunter shrugged and nodded at the same time, which was no answer at all, but he didn’t want to rehash the details of it. Not at work because he hadn’t been able to talk about it without breaking down. And also because people didn’t understand. His mother’s cancer had returned, but now it was in her brain. The night of the Oscars, she’d had a seizure in her sleep that thankfully woke up his dad, who called the ambulance. At the hospital, they discovered the tumor in her brain, and later that week, they found the tumors on her spine.

There would be no saving her this time, just maybe, if they were lucky, buying her time. But Catherine Gibson, Hunter’s stoic, worrywart, practical mother, didn’t see the point in more treatment. More time that would be riddled with pain and side effects, but that would never cure her. At best, doctors said she’d have less than a year with treatment. Less than six months without. She had applied for MAID, which was Canada’s assisted dying program. Hunter was furious and broken by the decision, even if, deep down, he understood it. He was mostly upset that his mother's dying was the only way this ended, no matter what path was chosen.

“Are we doing this?” Jack Byrne asked gruffly without even lifting his stupid blue eyes from his phone. “Or do we want to take more time?”

Hunter inhaled slowly and deeply and exhaled all the anger he could so that he didn’t take his rolled-up script and use it like a baseball bat over Jack’s head. He handed it to Brendan, who had come along for the end of the movie because Hunter couldn’t function on his own anymore. The world was blurry. Everyday tasks were overwhelming. Andi squeezed his shoulder, and he nodded. She let go and turned to Jack. “We’re ready. Thanks so much for your patience and understanding, Jack.”

He stood, dropped his phone onto the chair, and shot Andi a facetious smile. He walked onto the set, which was a sectioned-off piece of roadway, and Andi tucked herself back in front of the monitor under a canopy. Hunter walked to his mark. He closed his eyes and balled his fists. She’d want you to do good. Do your best. She wants nothing more than for you to succeed.

Hunter squared his shoulders, inhaled through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. He pulled up the character and shoved himself into a box in the back of his mind. Andi yelled action.

“This is fucking serious, Colby.” Burke’s brown eyes were pleading with Colby to do what? Be scared? Be embarrassed? Feel shame?

“I’ve seen the headlines. I get it,” Colby replied, sitting straighter in his chair across from Burke and Ford, who was leaning nonchalantly against a bookcase behind Burke’s desk. “But the media skews shit. Everyone knows that.”

“The endless Reddit threads and the fan fiction aren’t being written by reporters,” Ford added.

“There’s fan fiction?” Trevor interrupted, his bloodshot eyes wide. “Like Fifty Shades of Hunter and Colby?”

“Fifty Shades was fiction, fiction, not fan fiction,” Burke explained. “This is people writing pornographic love stories about Hunter and Colby because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other at the Oscars.”

“Actually, Fifty Shades started out as fan fiction based on another book,” Trevor interjected. “Granted, not real people. Who’s the top and who’s the bottom in the fics?”

“Trevor. I’m begging you. Shut the fuck up,” Kenner moaned, rubbing his forehead from where he sat beside Trevor on the couch.

“Fine. I’ll Google it,” Trevor muttered and folded his arms.

Burke shot him a withering stare and turned back to Colby with the same glare. “Look, we’re friends. Friends hug. You’ve never hugged a dude before, Burke? Sports stars pat each other’s asses, and nobody is accusing Patrick Mahomes of banging Travis Kelce.”

Ford let out a groan and shook his head.

“There’s fan fiction about them too,” Burke said. “I mean, there’s that shit about everyone. That can’t really be controlled. But the difference is, you know, that they’re both in very public hetero relationships. So we, and by we I mean the label, are putting that thing with you and Hannah back on.”

“No, they’re not.” Colby shook his head. He suddenly had a pounding headache. “I’m not fucking faking anything. And they don’t have to worry about Hunter. He’s off in Croatia.”

What Colby didn’t mention was that he’d already decided if Hunter’s mom died… well, when Hunter’s mom died, because that’s imminent now, Colby was going to Montreal. He would be there for him. He couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t. But no one needed to know that now. It would be something they could freak out about later. Burke pinched the bridge of his nose. “The damage is already done, Colby. And if you think I’m being dramatic, count the articles written about your win versus your bromance. All anyone is talking about is the bromance.”

“It’s just a plain old romance, Burkie,” Trevor said, and everyone turned to glare at him. He looked pale and wrung out, so the sassy smirk on his face stood out even more. “What? We can stop pretending in this room, right? Colbs is gay. Hunter is his boyfriend.”