Everything Changes (23 page)

He gripped Jase’s hand in his. “But is that enough to build a lifetime on? How can I ask you to give up one single thing about your life here, Jase, when I’m not—”

“I understand what you’re trying to say, Carey,” Jase said, and the pain washing through him made him want to throw up. But he’d opened this door, and now they both had to go through it and see where that led. That old cliché rolled through his mind:
If it’s meant to be, it will be. Give him time, dumbass.

Jase stood up and pulled Carey into his arms, holding him tightly. “Take the time you need, Carey. I’ll be here.”

They clutched each other for a few beats of silence, and then Carey pulled away. “I’m gonna get on the road, okay?”

Jase turned toward the front door, discreetly wiping his eyes. “I’ll carry your bags down.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jase.”

They walked slowly down the stairs to the sidewalk and up the block to where Carey’s SUV was parked at the curb. Every step felt to Jase like his legs were made from leaden weights, and his skin felt too tight on his bones, like it wanted to split open and spill everything inside him out onto the ground. He could feel his lips quivering and pressed them together tightly, stealing a look at Carey, noticing how pale he was. Jase was strangely gratified to see leaving wasn’t easy for Carey either, no matter what he’d said about needing space.

As they approached Carey’s car, the roaring in Jase’s ears got louder, and all he wanted to do was get back into his apartment before he fell completely apart. Carey popped open the back hatch, and Jase set Carey’s large duffle bag inside, plus the crutches Carey always brought with him on extended trips. Jase shut the hatch, trying to hide how his hands were shaking, and turned to face Carey.

He smiled, hoping the gesture didn’t look as ghastly as it felt, and said, “Drive safe, okay? Call or text when you get home?”

To his surprise, Carey took two steps forward and caught Jase in another tight hug. Jase clutched at him, burying his face in Carey’s sweet-smelling hair for a few precious seconds before forcing himself to let go and step back. They stared at each other for a moment before Carey slipped his sunglasses on, hiding those beautiful eyes, then caught Jase’s hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go and climbing into his car. Jase stood and watched until Carey’s taillights had disappeared around the corner.

And just like that, it was over.

C
HAPTER
12

C
AREY
STOOD
and saw the couple to the door, accepting their grateful hugs before stepping back into the small conference room and shutting the door. He’d been home in Colorado for a little more than a month now, back in the swing of things at the ranch. There was a marriage retreat in progress, and Carey’s peer counseling schedule was full.

He’d just gotten done talking to a former Marine and her husband. She had lost her right arm and right leg in Afghanistan and was having a difficult time being intimate with her husband, afraid he didn’t see her as beautiful anymore. The intense professional therapy and marriage counseling sessions at the ranch had already worked wonders in a few days, opening up the lines of communication and making it easier to get things out in a safe, neutral environment.

Carey provided the icing on the cake, so to speak, talking with the two of them about the continued realities of life as an amputee, letting her express her fears and frustrations to someone who could understand as no one else could. It appeared the couple’s marriage was finally on the right track to healing, and once again it brought home to Carey how important his work was and how fulfilled he was by it. He’d made the right decision in leaving Jase and coming home, home to where he was needed by so many. It wasn’t about being selfish; it was about what he needed to do for others.

But he missed Jase fiercely, with an intensity that he’d never experienced before. If Carey wasn’t working, he was thinking of Jase. Thinking of talking with him, laughing with him, making love with him. There was nothing about Jase that Carey didn’t miss, and it was a low, constant ache. He and Jase talked on the phone a couple of times a week, texted almost daily, but it didn’t ease the pain much. In fact it honestly made it worse since they’d fallen more or less into a routine of keeping it light, talking about their work, their friends, superficial things. Carey missed
Jase,
the intimacy and closeness they’d carefully built over the last few years. But now it was all about self-preservation. It hurt too much to be so close. They had to impose some sort of distance or they couldn’t move on.

Carey’s phone rang, and he looked down at it, reading the caller ID with some surprise.

“Hey, Layla,” he answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Why does everyone always think something’s wrong when I call them? Can’t I just call a friend to say hi?” Carey smiled at the exasperation in Layla’s voice.

“That’s because you
never
call people just to say hi,” he teased. “You always have an agenda.”

“Do not,” she grumbled. “Well, okay, I do. Usually. What can I say, I’m not a phone chitchat sort of person.”

Carey smiled again, enjoying the banter. He knew nothing was seriously wrong or she would have come straight to the point.

“So what’s up, Red?” he asked, sitting down at one of the conference table chairs and getting comfortable. His next counseling session wasn’t for fifteen minutes, so he had the time to spare.

“How are you doing, Carey?”

“Fine,” he answered slowly. “How are you?”

“Oh, not bad. Can’t complain.”

“This is getting dangerously into chitchat territory here, Layla,” he said cautiously.

“Okay, fine. I’m worried about Jase.” Carey sat up straight at those words, his mind going to scenarios of Jase flashing back on stage, panic attacks….

“Is he going to counseling? He promised me he would—”

“I’m sorry, Carey, yes, he’s going to counseling. He’s doing great with that. I just meant I’m worried about him emotionally. He’s hurting, Carey.”

Carey blew out a breath. “I know he is, Layla. So am I.”

“I don’t understand why, Carey. I hate seeing him like this. And before you say it’s none of my business—” Carey bit his tongue on those very words, his lips clamping shut. “—let
me
just say that, as Jase’s manager, everything about him is my business.”

“Is the band suffering?” Carey felt a wave of guilt at that. He’d comforted himself with the thought that Jase’s work would help him get through it, just like his own was doing.

“Not the music, no. In fact, he’s on fire, some of the songs he’s been writing have been breaking my fucking heart, they’re so good. But Carey… Jayden has been sniffing around again and—”

Carey felt a wave of pain go through him, pain so sharp and stabbing it took his breath away for a minute. He remembered that first night when he’d arrived in San Diego, standing in the doorway of that back room at the club after the concert, seeing Jase’s hand on the blond man’s hip, their lips teasing each other’s. Oh God.

His voice was hoarse when he was finally able to speak. “I never asked him to put his life on hold, Layla. I—”

“Jayden is not what he wants,” Layla said fiercely. “But Carey, I think he’s been waiting for you to change your mind and—he’s starting to lose hope.”

Carey felt anger replace the pain. “It’s only been a fucking month, Layla, and he agreed to give me time. Did he ask you to call and try to manipulate me? Because so help me—”

“No!” Her voice was sharp. “You know better than that, Carey. Don’t be an asshole. This is all my idea. You and I have never talked about this, and I just—I wanted you to know that you two have the support of everyone in the band. If it’s about coming out, worrying about what we might think, don’t. You two belong together and everyone knows it.”

“It’s not about that, Layla, though I appreciate it.” Carey sighed. “It’s about being at different places in our lives, and about putting others’ needs ahead of my own.”

“And Jase’s needs?” Layla said quietly. “Jase needs you.”

“He’ll always have me,” Carey said, his voice equally as quiet. “I will
always
be his friend. He’ll never lose that.”

Layla blew out a breath. “Okay, Carey. I’ve said what I needed to say. Just one more thing: you don’t know how lucky you are to have fallen in love with your best friend. I’ve always said that the best kind of love is friendship that has caught fire. It’s rare, Carey, and I don’t want either one of you to let that slip through your fingers. Just think about it, okay? Promise me you’ll just think about it before you throw the love of your life back to the Jaydens of this world. See ya, babe.”

And with that she hung up, leaving Carey staring at his phone in bemusement, his chest tight and aching. Jase, the love of his life? He was the person who meant the most to Carey, the only one he could say with certainty he would die for without question. And he loved him the way people loved their best friends, their family. Romantic love? What did that look like, anyway? Carey didn’t think he would even recognize it, and while he could accept a man could want to fuck another man, the concept of being in love with one was so foreign to him that he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He knew he loved Jase, but he wasn’t
in love
with him, right? He couldn’t give Jase what Jase said he needed. Right? There just wasn’t enough there for Carey to justify giving up his work, his home, his life in Colorado, or asking Jase to do the same. But fuck, he missed Jase so much.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Carey tamped down his feelings, putting a reassuring smile on his face as he ushered his next appointment in. One look at the tight misery on the man’s face as he maneuvered his wheelchair into the room, the legs of both of his pants pinned closed at the knee, his wife hovering anxiously behind him, her eyes desperate for any sort of hope, helped Carey to close his mental door firmly on thoughts of Jase. He was needed here, and here he would stay.

J
ASE
CLOSED
his eyes, the music washing through him. Dimly he could hear the cheers of the crowd swell as the music rose to a crescendo, and he took a slow breath, using the powerful muscles of his diaphragm to pull the notes from deep in his chest. His voice soared, the poignant words from one of his favorite songs washing across the room.

Tonight he and Eloquent Isolation had played several of their new original compositions for the first time to wild acclaim, and Jase felt, he knew in his bones, the band was on the verge of the breakthrough they had been waiting for for years. The music was good—no, it was spectacular, and it was relevant and cutting edge. Jase knew they had “it,” and the time was finally right. The excitement in the air was palpable, and yet to Jase it all felt hollow.

As they’d waited backstage to come back out for their encore, Jase had whispered to the guys he wanted to mix up the song they’d already chosen for one they knew like the back of their hand. He just felt the need to sing it tonight for Carey, the man he loved, wanting to pour his heart out into those familiar and meaningful words.

It was a powerful rock ballad, a song about fighting for love through adversity. The club was hushed as Jase’s rich voice wove a spell over all those listening. Servers froze in place; people stopped talking, stopped eating or drinking, stopped everything just to listen, several visibly affected by the emotion that rang so clearly through Jase’s words.

His already raspy voice grew hoarse as he sang his favorite line, the one that brought Carey’s face so brightly, so clearly to his mind, words about fighting through the worst of it, about getting through the toughest part of the day.

A tear tracked down Jase’s cheek unseen as he remembered Carey clinging to life on that dusty, bloody ground as Jase had whispered to him, “Carey, this is the toughest part of the day. Make it through. Please, Carey.”

The last notes died away, and the club remained quiet for one electric second before exploding in wild applause. Through his tears, Jase saw Layla standing next to the label exec she’d been courting, tears streaking down her own cheeks as she looked at Jase, love and sympathy in her eyes. He felt gratitude swell through him at her unwavering support and understanding. Jase would be okay. Carey was alive; he’d made it through the toughest part of the day. He was happy and fulfilled, doing work that he loved, work that made him feel needed and important. He was
alive
. And in the end, that was all that truly mattered.

C
HAPTER
13

S
IX
WEEKS
later Carey looked at his watch for the third time as he waited for his date to arrive. He’d met Jodi about a month ago when she’d moved into Carey’s building on the ranch, a brand-new occupational therapist Bill had hired on full-time. As a permanent full-time employee, she was entitled to housing, and there happened to be a vacant apartment right above Carey’s.

He’d come home from an afternoon of counseling sessions to see a pretty girl with brown hair and sparkling brown eyes struggling to carry an armload of boxes up the narrow concrete steps. He’d immediately sprung to her aid, taking the load from her and following her up to her apartment. They’d made three more trips, chatting amicably about life on the ranch after introducing themselves, and she’d invited him in for a Coke afterward as a thank-you.

Carey had sat down on the barstool at the counter, extending his prosthetic leg and wincing a little as the stump protested all the stairs Carey had just subjected it to. He saw Jodi’s eyes track to where the metal of the artificial ankle showed above the top of his boot, and winced again, waiting for the stammered apologies and protests: “Oh, I never would have asked you to help if I had
known
! Why didn’t you say something? Oh, you poor thing!”

But there was none of that. She just picked an ottoman up from in front of the small couch and plopped it in front of him, saying, “I’ll just put this here if you think you need it.” He’d gaped at her, and she’d winked at him before grabbing them their Cokes.