*Hunter's POV*
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There were multiple things wrong with what I did next.
I drove.
The issues were a) I didn't know how to navigate the Houston area, compounded by the fact that b) my phone was dead, which could've been a problem because c) the fuel gage was teetering dangerously close to E and d) it was dark.
All of those things I knew, and all of those things crossed my mind at least once as I sped into the darkness. I generally followed the motive to put the lights in my rearview. My digital compass indicated I was headed west. As building density got a little more sporadic, I finally decided to stop and get gas.
Mostly to symbolically give myself more of a chance to get as far away, geographically, as I could from my emotional conflict -- which, in my mind, lie with Christy -- and to avoid the potentially frustrating issue of, say, finding myself without any gas in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar area with a dead and useless cell phone.
After pumping the gas, I pulled into a parking spot in the gas station and stared into the distance. There wasn't much to the surrounding area: a few bushes and trees, but not enough to completely block the moonlit view of open land that extended into as far as the night would let me see.
I rested my arms on the armrest of the door on one side and the console on the other. Except when I pushed down on the console, it budged a little.
I looked down, mostly out of subconscious concern that it was broken, only to find that it wasn't completely closed because something was wedged into the slot.
An iPhone charger.
"How convenient," I said the nonexistent others in the car with me.
So, when my phone finally lit up and I knew I had a full tank of gas and a charging phone, I took back to the roads and continued in the direction I was headed.
I drove and drove and drove. I didn't bother with the radio. Pure silence, I figured, would be a little more therapeutic than running the risk of having a song come on that would trigger more emotion.
Ultimately, though, it got the best of me. I was craving some sassy country music, and, figuring Miranda Lambert was about as close to that as I could get, I grabbed the auxiliary cord from the glovebox and reached for my phone.
When I pressed the home button, I realized it must've been on silent.
From a number I didn't recognize, I had 17 total notifications: 11 texts and six missed calls.
I opened the texts first.
'This is Ally. Don't know where you went, but you should probably turn around.'
'Child. Answer your phone.'
'Hunter, I know you're getting these. Ignoring me isn't helping.'
'HUNTER HAYES. ANSWER YOUR PHONE.'
'Christy is out of the ICU.'
'Lord, have mercy. Please turn around Hunter. I have no idea what happened, but running away, if that's what you're doing, isn't the right move. I don't know how far you've gotten, but you need to come back.'
I pulled over and stared at the screen, unsure if it was worth the earful I was certainly due on the other end.
Ultimately I decided to call her back... regardless of the fact that at that point it was almost one in the morning.
It rang two and a half times before a muffled shuffle rang into my ear followed by Ally's quiet voice.
"Hello?"
