Mac woke to pain and the sound of beeping and odd, annoying smells. When he opened his eyes he thought he was dreaming.
“Dad?” His voice was rough and hoarse. “Is it really you?”
Dylan smiled, his eyes filled with tears. He was covered in scratches and had a splint on his ankle, but he had never looked better to Mac.
Dylan held Mac’s hand. “It’s me. I’m here. I’m here. And I’m never, ever leaving…
And…” he laughed, “boy, are you grounded!”
“That’s good, Dad. I know…stupid trick. Really stupid. But now…you’re home!”
“Home. For good.”