Chapter 1
When he felt the vibration in his pocket, Rhys Sutton pulled out his phone and checked to make sure it wasn’t from someone else on the crew sending him a message about the biggest, most ambitious fight sequence ofPlague Z’s entire three season run, which involved a confrontation between most of the cast and the biggest throng of zombies they’d ever encountered. A glance showed his mother’s name on the screen, however, so he tucked his phone back in his pocket and turned his attention to the practice run in progress. He watched both the actors and the stunt people with hawkish intensity, wanting to be certain that everyone had the choreography down and all the props were in good working order. Given the scope of the scene and the sheer number of people involved, he had assistants watching from all angles, but he was the lead stunt coordinator, and if anything went wrong, he would bear the responsibility for it.
Part of Rhys longed to be in the thick of the action like he used to be, but at forty-five, those days were behind him. He’d sustained an injury bad enough to require knee replacement surgery on his left leg several years ago, and he’d made the transition from stuntman to stunt coordinator after that. Yoga kept him limber, and spending time in the gym kept him in good shape, but he knew his limits.
Still, he would have enjoyed a participant rather than an observer of this particular sequence, which was an epic scene for the season finale. Unfortunately for the fans, the episode ended with a cliffhanger with a fan favorite character in danger of dying. But the show was an unexpected hit that pulled in good money for the cable network it was on, and it had already been renewed, so the fans would get a resolution in the premiere of season four.
Filming ended well after dusk, and then there was a wrap party in Red Rock, the small New Mexico town that the show used as home base. The locals had seen the cast and crew often enough over the past three years that they were treated like any other resident — which technically they were from April through early October. Rhys and a couple of other guys on the stunt crew rented an apartment together, but some of the cast had bought property in Red Rock, and Rhys had heard a few people were considering living there year-round just because they liked the area so much.
The director had reserved the entire dining room and bar of Miguel’s, which was a favorite hangout spot for the cast, and Rhys was halfway through his green chile cheeseburger before he thought to check his phone again. He was surprised to find he had text messages from about ten different relatives and a handful of missed calls, and he quickly checked the message from his mother, wondering what had happened to make them blow up his phone.
I’m so happy for you! This was a wonderful surprise, but why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone? You should bring him with you when you come home!
“What the fuck…?” Rhys stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the message. Maybe his mom had sent it to him by mistake?
But no, all the other messages were congratulations as well, sprinkled with happy face and thumbs-up emojis.
“What’s up?” Thomas Monroe leaned over to peek at his phone, and Rhys let him.
Thomas was one of the lead actors on the show, and his character was a fan favorite — although not the one whose fate was up in the air. He was a good six inches shorter than Rhys, who was 6’2. He looked skinny, but he possessed a wiry strength, and his slender build was made of lean muscle due to his workout regimen. He kept his light brown hair long for the show, and it hung in a glossy curtain past his shoulders when he didn’t twist it up in a messy bun to keep it off his neck, as he had tonight. His eyes were the biggest and bluest Rhys had ever seen, and Rhys had quickly learned Thomas knew how to use those gorgeous eyes both on and off camera. Thomas wore a beard as well, which he claimed was to adhere to the original design concept for his character, but Rhys suspected it was because he would look much younger if he were clean shaven.
“I have no idea,” Rhys said, frowning as he scrolled through the messages, trying to figure out what was going on.
He found a message from his cousin Lydia that simply read, “Congrats!” but she included a link that opened to a well-known celebrity news website — and there was the answer.
Underneath the headline — “Thomas Monroe’s new mystery beau!” — was a photo of some of the cast and crew. Rhys recognized it at once; it had been taken by the show runner, who had visited the location set when they began filming the last episode of the season. The show runner had taken photos — some posed, some candid — and posted them to the show’s official Instagram account.
“Aw, hell.”
“What?” Thomas’s eyes filled with concern.
Rhys held up his phone so Thomas could see the article and its accompanying photo, which was a casual behind-the-scenes shot. Since they were on location, the crew had set up tents where the cast and crew could hang out when they weren’t filming. They were filming mostly character-driven scenes that day rather than action sequences, so Rhys had a fair bit of down time, which he’d spent in the main tent. It had room for only ten or twelve chairs, which filled up as soon as the director cut the scene. At one point, Thomas came in after his colleagues had already claimed the available seats, so he sat on Rhys’s lap instead.
Rhys hadn’t thought anything about it at the time, not even when the show runner came in and took a picture of the group. He and Thomas were comfortable enough with each other for a certain amount of physical contact. It wasn’t even the first time Thomas had sat in his lap either, although it didn’t usually happen until Thomas had a couple of beers in him first.
But looking at the photo with an objective eye, he could see why people might put a romantic spin on it. Rhys was lounging in the white plastic folding chair with one long leg stretched out in front of him and the other leg bent so Thomas could perch on his thigh. Thomas sat sideways, his posture relaxed, and he was laughing with one of his costars. Rhys had rested his arm across Thomas’s lap, partly because he had nowhere else to put it and partly to help keep Thomas securely seated. Thomas was out and proud, so anyone who didn’t know Rhys had been off the market since his partner’s death might very well mistake them for lovers instead of friends.
“Shit, Rhys, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, the concern in his eyes shifting to worry. “Did they identify you?”
Rhys skimmed the article, relieved to see that while it speculated that he was part of the crew, they hadn’t dug up his name yet, so he wouldn’t be getting any invasive calls or emails about their “relationship.”
“No, but my mom knows all about it,” he said, grimacing. “She wants me to bring you home to meet the family.”
Thomas let out a sound that was half-laughing and half-choking. “Seriously?”
“It’s a pretty big deal to her,” Rhys said, tossing his phone on the table so he didn’t have to look at the photo or the congratulatory messages anymore. Just seeing how happy his friends and family were for him over a non-existent relationship made his gut turn squirmy. “She’s wanted me to start dating for a while now.”
“Well, it’s been five years,” Thomas said, his voice soft and cautious. “You’re allowed to move on.”
“You’re assuming I want to.” Rhys folded his arms and stared at the wall.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Thomas rested his hand lightly on Rhys’s arm. “Do you think Andy would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone?”
Andy would have come back from the grave if he could have to kick Rhys’s ass for closing off his heart. But opening his heart to someone else meant opening himself to the possibility of another loss, and Rhys didn’t want to experience that kind of grief and pain again. Once was enough.
Besides, he doubted he’d find anyone like Andy again. When they met, Rhys had offered his hand, and as soon as Andy’s warm palm touched his, he’d felt as if a missing piece of his heart had clicked into place at last. They’d meshed so well on both a professional and personal level, and he didn’t think anyone could possibly fill the void Andy’s loss had left behind.
“What Andy would want doesn’t matter, because Andy isn’t here. That’s the problem.”
