Everything Changes (2 page)

“Hey, hot stuff,” he grinned, setting her back on her feet. “Good to see you too.”

He picked up his beer, turning his back on Jayden and following Layla when she grabbed his hand and led him over to where Quinn slouched on a leather sofa, a plate of food balanced on his knee and his phone to his ear. He nodded at Carey, grinning at his wife as she perched on the arm of the sofa next to him, waving Carey to a chair.

Just then Jase walked by, clapping Carey on the shoulder as he passed. Jayden was suddenly there, intercepting him, planting himself right in Jase’s path.

“Come on, Jase,” he said with a whine. “I drove all the way from IB to be here tonight, and you don’t even seem to care!” Carey wouldn’t have been surprised if Jayden stamped his foot, and he turned slightly incredulous eyes on Jase, wondering why in the world he would put up with this kind of behavior. Jase grimaced and caught Carey’s eye, leaning down to murmur in his ear, “Dude can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.” Carey snorted, shaking his head in mock disgust.

Jase smirked, then whispered, “Lemme get rid of him. Be back in five.” He gripped Jayden by the biceps of one arm, hustling him out of the room.

“Where’d Jase go?” Quinn asked, ending his phone call and leaning toward Carey to bump knuckles in greeting.

Carey gestured vaguely toward the doorway. “Getting rid of some groupie who wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Jayden, ugh. He’s getting to be a real pest,” Layla complained. “He’s convinced himself he’s in love with Jase, and Jase is just using him like he does all the rest.”

“Quiet, honey,” Quinn said. “Not our business, remember?”

“I just hate seeing him fuck around with all this trash, and he doesn’t even
try
to find anyone halfway decent. He’s such a great guy, and I’ve tried who knows how many times to set him up with someone, both male and female. He’s always polite about it, but he’s never interested, and I
hate
seeing him waste time with these skanks who show up here.”

“No one can be as happy as we are, baby,” Quinn murmured, rolling his eyes discreetly at Carey as Layla leaned over to kiss the top of his head. Carey smiled, knowing how much the big muscular drummer adored his petite wife. He was the only one of the band who was married, and Layla seemed to have made it her mission in life to get the other three settled. They were all good-natured about her attempts, knowing it came from a big heart and a desire to see them happy.

“God, Carey, how long has it been since we saw you last?” Layla asked, leaning against her husband’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, about six months or so? I’ve been really busy at work, and time just gets away from me. Congrats on the long-term gig, by the way. This club is really nice, and it was a good crowd out there.”

“Thanks, man,” said Quinn, leaning up to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Or actually, thanks to this little bulldog. I think the club manager just agreed so that she’d go away and stop bothering him.”

Layla gave Carey an impish smile and a wink. “It helps that I just don’t take no for an answer.” Quinn grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap, growling something into her ear and making her squeal.

Carey watched them fondly for a moment, but then his gurgling stomach reminded him he still hadn’t eaten anything, and the two beers he’d already had were making him a little light-headed. He pushed to his feet, then staggered and caught himself on the back of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“Whoa. You okay, dude?” Quinn asked with concern, lifting Layla off his lap and half-rising, one arm outstretched as if to steady Carey.

Carey waved him off with a quick smile, saying, “Yeah, I’m fine. Please don’t worry,” he added when he saw Layla’s frown. “I just need to grab a little something to eat. It’s been hours, and I’m feeling the beers.”

He moved toward the refreshment table and filled a small plate with some cheese and crackers and some fruit, snagging a bottle of water to wash it down with. When he retook his seat, he noticed Layla still watching him with a furrowed brow.

“I’m fine, Layla,” Carey said gently.

“But you were limping.” Layla bit her lip and her eyes fell to Carey’s right leg, which he’d stretched out in front of him. “Does it—does it hurt?”

Carey rubbed his thigh, trying not to grimace. “I’m a little stiff from two days of driving, that’s all. It’s really not a big deal.”

Layla moved over to sit on the chair next to him, watching him narrowly as he ate a few crackers topped with cheese.

“It’s amazing. Looking at you no one would ever know that you don’t have a leg.”

Carey was used to Layla’s bluntness, and he smiled. “I have both legs, hot stuff,” he teased. “One is just made of plastic and titanium.” He pulled up his pant leg to show Layla the metal ankle above his athletic shoe.

“You sure it doesn’t hurt? I can have Quinn drive you back over to Jase’s—”

“I’m sure,” Carey said firmly. “Now go work your magic with the label execs and let me finish my snack while I wait for Jase.”

“Come on, honey.” Quinn drew Layla to her feet, then steered her away with his arm around her waist. “He’s a grown man and been taking care of himself for a long time. He don’t need a mama.”

Carey watched them go, warmed by Layla’s concern, knowing it stemmed from genuine affection. He hadn’t had a whole lot of that in his life, not until he met Jase and eventually was drawn into his circle of friends.

Jase. Carey wouldn’t be where he was today if it weren’t for him. Hell, he wouldn’t even be
alive
today; he would be just another statistic on the battlefields of Afghanistan, another shattered body sent home on a military transport in a coffin draped with a flag.

As Carey absently ate a fistful of grapes, he remembered the first time he’d seen the man who would become his lifesaver… and best friend.

Four years ago—Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, California

C
AREY
STOOD
nervously on the parade field, itchy and sweaty in his camo fatigues, trying not to shift from foot to foot. It was his new unit’s first day after officially reporting for duty, and they were all assembled, ready to meet the unit leaders. It was early morning, but the sun was already beating down, adding to the general air of discomfort and nervousness.

As Carey did his best to stand at attention, he heard laughter and a husky voice from somewhere off to the right. No brass was there yet, so Carey dared to turn his head to find the source of the voice. He caught sight of a man, tall and lean, eyes sparkling with humor, making the rounds and introducing himself to the newbies. Finally he got to Carey and stopped, his eyes tracing Carey’s face.

“Hey, kid,” he said at last, sticking his hand out for Carey to shake. “I’m HM1 DeSantis, the unit corpsman.”

“PFC Everett, sir,” Carey mumbled.

“Okay, Everett, you and me are gonna get to know each other real well. Athlete’s foot, jock itch, aches and pains, you come see me day or night, got it? My door’s always open.”

“Yes, sir,” Carey said, feeling shy and strangely tongue-tied. DeSantis clapped him hard on the shoulder and moved on to the next guy, repeating the same spiel.

During the next two months of predeployment workups, Carey barely had time to breathe. Combat training, weapons training, physical training…. It all ran together in one big blur. Carey was surprised to see DeSantis out on the field training right along with the rest of the unit, running combat drills and earning weapons qualifications.

When he asked his sergeant why the medic was training with them, the guy looked at Carey like he was crazy. “How the fuck is he supposed to go out on the battlefield with the unit if he don’t know how to take care of himself out there? You gonna be the one to babysit him? Got any more stupid questions? No? Then get the fuck out of my face, Private!”

One day during an obstacle course run, Carey ran afoul of a piece of barbed wire fencing, receiving a deep, painful cut on his forearm. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he finished the course with blood pouring down his arm, dripping off the ends of his fingers. His sergeant took one look at it and ordered him to “Go see Doc, then get your ass back here on the double.”

Carey found DeSantis, who led him to the command center tent, pulled out his medical bag, gloved up, and examined the wound.

“Gonna need some stitches, Private,” he said. “You ain’t afraid of needles, are ya? I forgot my smelling salts in my other bag.” He looked at Carey with a lazy smirk, green eyes sparkling.

Carey flinched a little at the thought of stitches. “You can do that out here?” he asked skeptically, waving his uninjured arm around the tent. “Don’t I need to go to the clinic for that, see a doctor?”

DeSantis snorted. “Don’t know much, do ya? You think I just hand out Band-Aids and then send you on to someone else, a ‘real’ doc?” It must have been clear from Carey’s expression that was exactly what he’d thought because DeSantis snorted again.

“Doctors are officers, aren’t they? You’re just an enlisted guy like me,” Carey said defensively.

DeSantis raised his eyebrows, his look inscrutable. “I’ve also been through two years of medical training, including combat medicine and trauma care. I’ve already done one tour in the Sandbox, taken care of guys shredded by bullets and IEDs. I think I can handle this.”

While he spoke, he drew up some lidocaine in a syringe and efficiently injected around the wound, numbing it up. Carey shut up then, letting him work, watching as the medic first thoroughly irrigated the wound with saline, then threaded a suture needle and closed the gash with a series of tiny, perfect stitches. He slathered it with antibiotic ointment and bandaged it tightly. It took all of five minutes.

“Come find me in seven days and I’ll take the stitches out. If you have any redness or swelling, see any pus, come back sooner.”

Carey nodded.

“I mean it, Marine. Don’t try to be a tough guy; you don’t fuck around with infection. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Carey mumbled, chastened and a little ashamed of the assumptions he’d made.

“Cut out the ‘sir’ bullshit unless there’s an officer around. I’m just Doc, or Jase,” the other man said easily as he packed up the bloody gloves and gauze in a red biohazard bag.

A week later Carey found Jase, presenting him with an arm wrapped in a pristine bandage. The wound was clean and pink, no signs of pus. Jase raised his eyebrows.

“Wow, good hygiene, Marine. Most guys come back and the wound is in almost worse shape than when they got the fucking thing.”

Carey just smiled faintly and shrugged, watching as Jase gracefully snipped the stitches loose with a pair of surgical shears and gently teased them free of Carey’s skin with some tweezers. There was a faint railroad track-looking scar, but other than that, it had healed perfectly.

“Thanks, Doc.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Jase said with a wink.

A
BURST
of laughter from a nearby group of people brought Carey back to the present with a jolt. He stood up to throw his snack trash away, looking at his watch and wondering where Jase was. Carey thought briefly about going to find him and then thought better of it. Jase knew he was here, and he’d be back when he could. Carey grabbed another bottle of water and settled down to wait.

C
HAPTER
2

J
ASE
GROANED
,
arching his back, his head thumping against the wall. His hands were buried in Jayden’s thick blond hair, holding him still as Jase fucked his mouth hard. Jayden was gripping Jase’s thighs, bracing himself, his fingers digging into the bunched muscle.

“Gonna come, Jay,” Jase panted, and Jayden redoubled his efforts, his head bobbing faster as he increased the suction, one of his hands sliding between Jase’s thighs to fondle his heavy balls. “Christ,” Jase moaned as he came hard, hot come flooding the condom sheathing his cock.

He pulled out abruptly, collapsing back against the wall on shaky knees. No matter how annoying the little fuck actually was, he could
really
suck a dick. Jase blew out a breath, the orgasm releasing the tension and adrenaline that always flooded him during and right after a concert. Jayden looked up at him worshipfully from his position on his knees, his mouth reddened and swollen from the blowjob.

Jase pulled off the full condom, tying it off and pitching it at a nearby wastebasket, then yanked on some clean boxer briefs and jeans, leaving the sweaty leather pants in a heap on the floor. He lifted Jayden to his feet, grimacing as he flung himself into Jase’s arms, clinging.

“It was good, wasn’t it, Jase?” he whispered in Jase’s ear, and Jase hugged him briefly before pushing him gently back.

“Yeah, it was good, Jay,” he said. It was true enough, and it had served its purpose. Eventually Jase would have to nip this in the bud. He had no intention of ever taking it further than a casual fuck, and it was obvious Jayden was starting to have hopes.

Jase put his arm around Jayden’s waist and steered him toward the dressing room door, eager to have him gone.

“I have my friend here tonight, and I haven’t seen him in a while,” Jase said, opening the door and subtly, he hoped, pushing the other man through it. “I’m gonna finish changing and go spend a little time with him.”

“Okay, Jase. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Jayden stood on his toes, lifting his mouth for a kiss, but Jase pretended not to see it and shut the door right in Jayden’s face.

Jase collapsed onto a nearby chair, really needing to get back out there, but he didn’t want Carey to see him with the obvious sex flush on his face, the sheen of sweat on his forehead making it clear what had been going on.

Carey Everett. Jase scrubbed his hands over his face as he blew out a huge breath. He’d known Carey for four years and had been in love with him for at least half that. The first time he’d laid eyes on the kid with the sexy Black Irish looks, Jase had been lost. He still remembered his first glimpse of Carey on that training field back at Pendleton, the lean but muscular body, the black hair and blue eyes with lashes so thick and lush it almost looked like the kid had been wearing eyeliner. Jase had fallen in instalust, couldn’t take his eyes off the young Marine private with the shuttered expression and wariness in his eyes that said, “Back off.”