He would finally be free to leave with his mates, to set foot out of doors, to sleep in his own bed.

Ecstatic as Joey was about this news, he was also apprehensive, knowing that once he returned to the real world, he would be on his own. He would have to watch himself as closely as he’d ever had in his life. Due to the dramatic decrease in his physical condition, he couldn’t yet do all the things he used to do, and anything could happen that could land him in the emergency room in a heartbeat.

As Dr. Coleman said they would, they installed a central venous catheter—dubbed “CVC” for short—before Joey left. The small, curious device began just under Joey’s collarbone, ended a few inches above his right nipple, and the middle part went under his skin, right through the veins in his chest. In this way, in the words of Dr. Delaney, the catheter would remain more in place; plus, bacteria wouldn’t pass easily through the tube and into Joey’s bloodstream. As necessary and convenient as it was, Joey hated the catheter from the start. The only good he could say about the thing was that it could easily hide under his clothes.

As for clothes, it felt weird and wonderful to switch from the flimsy hospital garments to the more in-vogue stuff, though his shirt felt two sizes too large and he had to cinch his belt far tighter than usual. Even fully dressed, he still appeared pitifully thin and pale, and the other guys could tell from a distance. “It’s almost like your clothes are outgrowing you,” Justin once said in a lame attempt at humor.

“Definitely not something I’d recommend as a weight-loss routine,” Joey said, which brought out a few weak chuckles.

Although Joey could walk some, he had to lean on Lance’s shoulder as they made their way through the main doors, into the fresh air. He made Lance stop for a minute while he closed his eyes, lifted his face toward the sun, and drew in the deepest breath his lungs could manage.

“Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” Lance remarked.

“Oh, man, you better believe it,” said Joey as he opened his eyes again. “I never considered myself the outdoorsy type, but as of right now, I could very well spend the entire day out here.”

In that moment, he thought of Sheri and wondered how she reacted to those first few seconds of pure freedom. He wondered where the girl was now, what she was up to, if she was all right. As sorry as he felt for her, he was glad and grateful for the chance to have met her, if only for a little while, and he sent up a brief prayer on the spot that she would continue to do well; she deserved no less.

“Are you two foot-draggers coming or what?” JC’s voice called from the parking lot, cutting into Joey’s reverie.

“Keep your shirt on, Jace,” Lance called back. “We’ll be right there.”

“We haven’t got forever, you know. Hurry up!”

Rolling his eyes, Lance said, “Come on, Joe. Let’s hit the road.”

“Lead the way, Sir Lancelot.”

When they reached the car, Chris and Justin had already piled into the back. Lance joined them, and Joey settled next to JC at the front. During the drive, Joey cranked up the radio as loud as they could stand it and he and Lance belted it out with the music; even Chris and Justin joined in on a few songs. Only JC remained tight-lipped the whole time, his hands kept resolutely on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road aside from occasional sidelong glances.

At the condo, Justin helped Lance guide Joey in and out of the elevator and down the hall; they moved very slowly, step by step, while JC and Chris lingered behind. It took them at least fifteen minutes to reach their door, but no one said anything. When they finally stood at their door, Chris dug out the keys without a word and made an “after you” gesture when the door was open.

“Welcome home, stranger,” said Lance as he and Justin led Joey over the threshold.

Joey smiled. “Home,” he repeated softly. “I never thought that could sound so good.”

After Joey made himself good and comfortable on the living room sofa, Lance insisted they do something to celebrate. “Nothing outrageous,” he said, “but maybe a movie and a special dinner, right here?”

“Suits me fine,” said Chris.

“I’m cool with that,” said Justin.

JC merely nodded.

“What do you think, Joe?” Lance asked. “Do you feel good enough to eat something?”

“Yes, I do,” said Joey, surprised and thrilled at how genuinely hungry he felt.

“What would you like?”

“I don’t know. A big bowl of hot soup sounds nice.”

Lance suggested, “How about I whip us up a batch of some hearty, home-based soup? Old family recipe,” he added with a wink. “My mother claims it will fix anything. It’s got chicken, noodles, carrots, onions, sweet peppers, and all kinds of great stuff.”

Already Joey’s mouth was watering, and he nodded eagerly. “I could go for some of that. And maybe some crackers on the side, with peanut butter, and something else that contains chocolate—lots and lots of chocolate. For some reason, I have this crazy need for the sweet brown stuff.”

“You got it,” Lance said, and headed straight for the kitchen.

In a minute, Justin and JC decided to lend Lance a hand or two, which left Joey alone with Chris.

At first, Chris just stayed where he was, clutching his elbows and shifting his weight from leg to leg. His face gave off too many emotions for Joey to sort through, but his voice was mellow when he said, “I’m glad you’re back, Joey. I’m…glad.”

“Me too.” Joey ran his hand gently over the sleek cushion he sat on. “I can hardly believe I’m actually here. A part of me expects to wake up in my other bed in my old getup. I can still hear and smell the hospital, and it’ll take a while to get used to not having those sounds, smells, and sights around me.”

“Are you okay?”

Unsure of what Chris meant by that, Joey said, “For the time being, yeah.” He paused, then sent the question back. “Are you okay?”

Chris nodded, though his face spoke otherwise. “Do you want me to help you pick out a movie for tonight?”

“Actually, Chris, there’s something else I want first, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“What’s that?”

Joey opened his arms. “How about a hug?”

He expected Chris to turn away, to make some lame excuse.

But Chris, despite his bulging eyes, white face, and rock-rigid posture, just said, “O-okay.”

Slowly, the older man edged closer to the couch and took a seat. Joey wrapped his arms around Chris first, and Chris, as if convinced that it was all right to do this, sank into the embrace and his arms enfolded Joey in the same way. His forehead dropped against Joey’s shoulder. This close, Joey could smell his companion’s familiar and soothing scents, and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Though Chris never spoke, hardly made any kind of sound, his entire frame trembled like a leaf in a strong wind. He didn’t seem willing to let Joey go in a hurry—not that Joey was in any rush. It wasn’t until Lance brought in a tray laden with Ritz crackers, soft chocolate cookies, a carton of chocolate milk, and a new jar of creamy peanut butter that Chris broke away and excused himself; this time, Joey really could make out diamond trails on Chris’s cheeks before the older man shielded his face and turned away.