Chaotic, jumbled images crowded Jase’s brain. The sharp retort of a rifle, the pink mist, the crumpled figure…
He forced the mental images away, aware of Carey’s narrowed gaze. Pasting a smile on his face, he said, “It relaxes me to take a few puffs every now and then. No biggie. It’s legal, yeah?”
After another long pause, Carey said, “Yeah, of course it is. Just wondering.”
“It’s just every now and then,” Jase repeated. “Haven’t you ever tried it? You live in Colorado, after all.”
“Yeah, I’ve tried it. It’s gaining traction as a treatment for post-traumatic stress.” He paused. “That’s why I asked. Is it—”
“Me? Nah. Purely recreational.” Jase wondered if his nose would lengthen with the lie, and he resisted actually reaching up to feel it.
Why not be honest with him? The thought sprang to mind unbidden. He’d understand.
“But he has his own shit to deal with,” Jase scolded himself firmly. “He doesn’t need yours.”
Carey didn’t say anything more about it, and for some reason Jase got the feeling he was disappointed in him. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the feeling away. The last thing Carey needed was another burden, someone else to worry about.
“Hey,” Jase said, grabbing his arm and giving him a tug. “Wanna ride the carousel?”
Ten
Tinny carnival music filled the air, the smell of popcorn making Carey’s tummy rumble.
He leaned against the railing surrounding the carousel, watching Jase go ‘round and ‘round, the little girl he was standing beside bouncing exuberantly up and down on her zebra. Next to him, the girl’s mom supported an even younger boy, who was cackling with glee.
Carey smiled. It was so like Jase, to offer to be the stand-in for an absent dad so the little girl, not much more than four, could ride, too.
“My husband’s on deployment,” the blonde woman had said apologetically, her face red with embarrassment at her daughter’s disappointed screams. “I’m sorry, Bella. I can’t take you and your brother. We’ll come back another time.”
That’s when Jase had stepped in, and now he was chatting with the young mom as they stood across from each other on the carousel, the bobbing animals in between them.
He’ll be such a good father someday.
The thought sent a wistful pang through him. Carey wondered what that would be like, to get that phone call from Jase telling him he’d finally met someone and fallen in love. How would it feel to hear about the milestones—moving in together, maybe marriage, then family?
Carey swallowed. It’d be hard, harder than he’d realized.
“You should move here.”
For one breathless moment, he let himself imagine it, moving here to this beautiful city, where he’d see Jase often, possibly every day. They’d live, work, play, their lives growing more and more intertwined…
Until what?
Try as he might, he couldn’t see beyond that. He’d learned—the hard way—not to plan too far into the future. Planning, hoping, wanting, they almost always led to disappointment and heartache, so it was best to keep the uncertainties to a minimum, to keep everything in his world under tight control.
“Carey!” As Jase went around again, he waved and smiled, looking so beautiful that Carey’s knees went a little weak.
The wistful pang turned into a sharp ache. Also, how could he turn his future on its head and move here to be close to someone who didn’t fully trust him? Who wouldn’t be honest with him?
His lips tightened. Jase’s pot use wasn’t just recreational; Carey felt it in his bones. After everything Carey had shared, everything of himself he’d trusted Jase with, Jase still couldn’t seem to give Carey more than his usual breezy bullshit.
“I wish you’d let me in,” he thought to himself as Jase lifted Bella down from her zebra and waved goodbye to the little family. “Really let me in.”
He let out a sigh, then smiled when Jase trotted toward him, beaming.
“Hey, Uncle Jase,” Carey teased. “Cool as usual.”
“Oh, man, that was awesome,” Jase said enthusiastically. “I miss those little buggers of mine.”
“How many nieces and nephews do you have?”
Jase started counting on his fingers, and Carey stopped him when he got to eight. “Okay, a lot,” he said, laughing. “You must really have your hands full when you go home.”
Before Jase could reply, Bella pointed at Carey and shouted, “Look, Mommy! He has a funny leg!”
If a sinkhole opened up in the ground right then, Carey knew Bella’s mom would gladly hurl herself into it. Her face went scarlet. “Bella!” she hissed. “That’s not polite!”
The little girl looked bewildered. “But it’s funny,” she insisted. “Hey, you. Man.” She pointed at Carey again. “Why do you have a funny leg?”
Chuckling, Carey walked over to her. “It’s okay,” he mouthed to the mom, then turned to the little girl. “Your name is Bella, right?”
When she nodded, wide-eyed, he said, “My name is Carey, and I have this funny leg ‘cause my regular leg got hurt.”
She crouched in front of him, her eyes darting back and forth, comparing the two. “Does the funny one hurt, too?”
“Sometimes, but not too bad. I’m just glad I get to use it to help me walk.”
Bella nodded, then reached out her hand. She paused. “Can I touch it?”
“Yes, you can, and it makes me happy that you asked first,” he praised, chuckling as she poked tentatively at first his hairy shin and then his titanium one. “And listen.” He bent down to her level. “If you have a question, you can always ask it, okay? People with ‘funny’ legs and arms usually don’t mind when kids ask questions.”
“But don’t point and shout, Bella,” her mom interjected, her cheeks still pink.
“Right,” Carey agreed. “Pointing and shouting might make the person feel embarrassed, so it’s better to just go up to them and say, ‘Can I ask you a question?’ and if they say it’s okay, then ask.”
When Carey straightened, her mom said, “Thank you, Carey, for being so gracious. I’m so sorry.”
“No worries, really,” he said reassuringly, and waved as the three of them headed toward the zoo.
By silent agreement, he and Jase turned and walked back toward the park.
“You’re gonna make a wonderful father someday,” Jase said quietly.
“Ha. I was thinking the same thing about you.” Carey nudged him with his elbow, a tingle of warmth going through him when Jase bumped him back with his shoulder. They ambled along that way for a while, upper arms brushing.
“Do you get a lot of kids at the camp?” Jase asked.
“Oh, yeah. We have a really robust family program.” Before he knew it, Carey was telling him all about it, the licensed therapists, the peer mentors, the outdoor activities that helped bring hurting families together.
Through it all, Jase listened quietly but attentively, and a surge of some undefined emotion made Carey say, “Will you come visit sometime? And bring your guitar? I’m sure there are other vets who’ll bring theirs, and you could jam together.”
The enthusiasm in Carey’s voice made Jase chuckle, and he slung his arm around his shoulders. “You know I’d love to,” he said softly. “Just say the word.”
Warmth settled in the pit of Carey’s stomach when Jase left his arm where it was, his hand hooked casually in the junction between his shoulder and neck. Carey glanced over at him, drinking in the way the golden afternoon sun lit his profile. He cleared his throat. “Have you worked anymore on your song?”
“Nah. Haven’t had time.”
“What’s it about?”
Was it his imagination, or did Jase stiffen a bit?
He shrugged. “Nothing yet.”
Carey waited, but Jase didn’t elaborate, so he tamped down his frustration and tried again. “I like how all your songs are about the emotions of war, instead of war itsel
f. It must be—”
“Yeah.” Jase dropped his arm. “Hey, you hungry? I’m starving. Didn’t have any lunch, you know. How about ribs? You like ribs?”
Swallowing his hurt, Carey said, “Yeah, I like ribs.”
“Great. Layla was telling me about this place the other night. In fact, why don’t I text them and see if they all want to meet us?”
“Sure.”
Trailing behind Jase as he started texting furiously, Carey wondered at the deflection. As open as Jase was about all other aspects of his life, why he was so closemouthed about this part was a mystery.
You can’t force him to open up, the peer counseling side of him argued, but the side that cared deeply for Jase longed for him to confide in him, to lean on him—to trust him.
“They’re all in, and meeting us in an hour.” Jase turned to him, his eyes unfathomable, yet beautiful in the waning light. “You okay with that?”
Carey nodded. “Anything. I just want to spend time with you.”
The quiet honesty seemed to loosen something inside of Jase, and he smiled. “Me, too. C’mon, buy you a drink, Marine.”
The restaurant-slash-bar was loud, and busy for a Tuesday night. It was the kind of place with buckets of peanuts sitting everywhere, the cracked shells freely discarded on the floor by patrons who grabbed them by the handful. Contemporary country music echoed from the speakers, line dancers and two-steppers kicking up their heels on the dance floor.
And overlaying it all, the mouthwatering smell of roasting meat.
“Carey!”
Spinning around, he bent with a grin to receive Layla’s exuberant kiss on the cheek. “Wow, you look great.”
She did, in her tight jeans, button-up Western-style shirt, and red cowboy boots, a jaunty bandanna tied around her neck. Quinn was dressed similarly, and even Jase fit in with his jeans and black T-shirt. Carey looked ruefully down at his cargo shorts and sneakers.
Oh, well.
Already the sight of his prosthetic had attracted some attention, and sure enough, a few minutes later, a beaming server trotted up bearing a pitcher of beer. “From a gentleman at the bar, who says, ‘Thank you for your service.’”
Carey lifted his glass toward the bar with a polite smile. Scenes like this were par for the course, especially in a military town, and he was used to it, even if the attention made him uncomfortable.
After Pete and Rusty arrived with their wives, huge platters of ribs were ordered, along with onion rings, fries, and corn on the cob.
“Carey, did you hear?” Layla hissed in his ear. “Wellman wants to meet with us on Thursday, up in L.A.”
Carey glanced across the table where Jase was obviously receiving the same news from Quinn.
“Fuck yeah!” Jase’s happy exclamation was accompanied by high fives all around. “This calls for a toast!” He raised his glass. “To Carey, who made the phone call that I think is gonna change all our lives.”
“To Carey!”
“Yeah, dude.”
“We love you, baby!” Layla pinched Carey’s burning cheek with a mischievous smile. Then she kissed it. “Ha ha, you remind me so much of my son. He’s always embarrassed by me, too.”
With a smile, Carey slid his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.
The food arrived not long after, mountains of it. Bibs around their necks, they dove in. It was one of the messiest meals Carey had ever eaten, with the tender ribs, the butter-soaked corn, and what seemed like a million different sauces.
It was also one of the most fun meals in recent memory. The band members’ chemistry extended off the stage, too, and for a while, Carey felt like he was in the barracks again, laughing at the stories about dudes who’d done stupid shit, or commanders without a clue, or the myriad boring and hilarious things that always happened on deployment.
At last they sat back, stuffed to the gills. Layla and the other wives coaxed Jase into taking one of the line dancing lessons, and soon they were completely absorbed in learning the moves to “Old Town Road.”
Carey couldn’t take his eyes off Jase, his lithe body and lean hips, thumbs hooked in his front pockets. His easy smile lit up the room, his enthusiasm and good humor spreading to everyone around him.
What was it Layla had called him? The “heart and soul” of their group? Well, it was certainly true, and not just for the band, but for his family, his platoon…
Me.
Jase saw him watching and winked, the flirtation behind it unmistakable. Carey rolled his eyes—then winked back.
“Hey, man.” Quinn clapped him on the shoulder. “Play some darts?”
“Sure.” With one last wistful glance at Jase, Carey pushed back his chair and followed.
It wasn’t long before the dancers migrated over to their part of the room. More beer was poured, more toasts drunk to Wellman, to the future of the group, to Carey, and to Lil Nas X.
Luckily, they were all happy drunks, and the mood remained high, even as the other couples started to drift away to their prudently ordered Ubers.
“I’ll drive us,” Carey said. “I only had the one beer at dinner.”
In the truck, Jase continued the country theme and sang along to all the songs on the satellite radio, and at home, he cued up “Old Town Road” on his audio system.
“C’mon,” he coaxed. “I’ll teach you the line dance.”
Carey tried, but he didn’t have Jase’s rhythm, and after the third time he’d turned the wrong way, he gave up laughing. “How ‘bout I just watch you instead?”
“Nope.” Moving up behind him, Jase settled his hands lightly on Carey’s hips. “Like this.”
After a lot of missteps, some tangled feet, and muffled giggles, they settled into a semi-smooth rhythm.
“By George, I think you’ve got it,” Jase rasped in his ear. “Whoops, you do the lasso here.”
Carey raised his arm like he was twirling a rope, then lost the count, and fell back against Jase’s chest.
“Enough,” Carey chuckled. “That’s the best you’re gonna get out of me.”
“Mmm.” Jase wrapped his arms around Carey’s waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. “That was pretty darn good. No. Better than good. Beautiful. Sexy.”
“Ha. I think you have beer goggles on, my friend.”
“You…are…so…” Jase punctuated each word with a brush of his lips to Carey’s cheek, “…beautiful it hurts.” Then he took Carey’s earlobe between his teeth, worrying it lightly. “And you’ve got me twisted in all kinds of knots.”
“You’re not the only one,” Carey rasped. “Knot city, here.”
“Mmm, I can tell.” Jase splayed his palm over Carey’s chest. “Your heart’s beating like a drum.”
Carey couldn’t help the tiny sound of protest that escaped when Jase let go of him, but all he did was grab the audio remote and change the song to a slow, poignant country ballad. Then he held out his hand. “Dance with me?”
Time slowed down as Carey gazed at him, the sands of change shifting precariously beneath his feet. Fear and uncertainty welled up in his throat, but the patient understanding in Jase’s eyes and the steadiness of his hand made Carey reach out and place his fingers in his.
Jase didn’t pull him in, only squeezed him gently, his thumb moving in caressing circles on Carey’s wrist.
His lips trembling, Carey took a tiny step closer. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.
“Never.”
“I’m a little scared.” He took another step. “A lot scared, actually.”
“I know.”
One more step, until Jase’s chest was just inches from his. Carey sucked in a breath. “Jase, I—”
“Hey. It’s only a dance, okay? Nothing more. Just dance with me.”
Hesitantly, Carey rested his open palm on Jase’s shoulder as Jase slid his arm around his waist. Free hands clasped between them, they started moving slowly around the living room.
“I love this song,”
Jase said quietly. “Don’t you?”
Carey had never heard the song in his life, and he didn’t hear it now, as loudly as his heart was hammering in his ears. “Mm-hmm.”
They fell silent, swaying together, the warmth of Jase’s nearness and the soft music relaxing Carey bit by bit, until he found himself almost melting into him.
There was no demand to Jase’s touch, no sense of being caged in, or coaxed, just warmth, safety, and peace. Jase sang along quietly to the song, his lips moving against Carey’s temple.
Carey leaned back a little to look at him. “I think you must know the words to every song ever written.”
“Maybe. Music’s always been an outlet for me, even as far back as high school.”
“Your shitty garage band days?” Carey teased, pulling his hand from Jase’s grasp only to slide his arms up around his neck. With a muffled groan, Jase pulled him closer, his own hands smoothing along Carey’s hips.
“Yeah. I was always scribbling lyrics down—on napkins, my palm. Or humming or tapping.” He drummed his fingers lightly against the small of Carey’s back to demonstrate. “Drove everyone nuts.”
Carey studied him in the moonlight streaming in through the blinds. “I don’t remember you doing that when we lived together.” He winced. “But then again, I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention.”
“Hmm. Guess you were kinda busy being a Marine.” Jase dropped a kiss on the tip of his nose. “And then kinda busy getting better.”
“No, I was selfish. Caught up only in myself, not seeing you for the—” Carey sucked in a breath. “For the talented, caring, wonderful person you are.”
“Carey—”
“You’re my best friend, and I always love being around you, but now I want to be even—closer.” He dropped his forehead to Jase’s shoulder. “I don’t understand it. It scares me, but here we are.”
There they were. Slow dancing, wrapped in each other’s arms, nuzzling, and it felt so good, so right, that Carey was almost dizzy with it.
“I’m yours, you know.” Jase’s voice was just a whisper of sound. “Body and soul.”
His arms didn’t tighten, although Carey could see his pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat. If he pulled away, Jase would let him, without any recriminations, or guilt.
Everything Changes Page 11
