Striding away, Carey pushed through the doors into the club, the sound wave from the music almost knocking him down.
He’d intended to go back to his beer, but a quick glance at the dance floor made him freeze in his tracks.
Jase was visible again, except he wasn’t alone. A woman in a bright red minidress, her long blonde hair falling over one shoulder, was moving with him in perfect sync, her back to his front. One of her slim arms was crooked up behind his head, Jase’s hands resting lightly on her hips. They looked beautiful together, her face dreamy, Jase’s mouth curved in a lazy smile.
Jealousy punched Carey in the gut with a white-hot fist. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pushing his way into the crowd toward them. The pounding bass, the flashing lights, all of it washed over him in an overload of sensation. As he drew near, the woman caught his eye with a sexy smirk, and in one graceful motion, moved into his arms, her lithe form undulating against him.
She smelled amazing, her thin dress silky under his fingertips, and yet all he wanted to do was push her away.
Then the crowd shifted and the woman was gone, borne away by the tide. For a moment, Carey lost sight of Jase, too. He spun in a wild circle, looking for him, and suddenly he felt heat along his back.
“Dance with me,” Jase breathed hotly in his ear. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
Carey had never been much of a dancer, even before losing his leg, yet the music seemed to throb in his blood, pounding through his veins in the rhythm of Jase’s lean, muscular body pressed against his. They ground together in the strobe-lit darkness, their fingers linked and resting on Carey’s hips.
Mindless with his need to be closer, he let go of Jase’s hand and reached back, splaying his palm against rough denim and warm, shifting muscle.
They both groaned, and Jase buried his face in the side of his neck, mouth open against the straining tendon there. The rasp of stubble, the hint of teeth on his skin, dragged another groan from Carey’s chest.
He wasn’t thinking, just feeling. Jase dipped his fingertips lower, underneath Carey’s shirt and along his abs, to flirt with the waistband of his jeans. He toyed with the button, thumb stroking the bare skin right above it, the touch pebbling Carey’s nipples and thickening his cock.
Snapping his eyes open, Carey tilted his head back to meet Jase’s gaze, only to find so much heat there, he couldn’t look away. He licked his lips as Jase’s eyes dropped to his mouth.
In spite of the want that suffused Carey’s entire body, the need that had him straining against the zipper of his jeans, the sudden burst of panic washing through him banished it all.
With an oath, he broke away from Jase, turned, and strode off the dance floor.
Cursing, Jase ran after him.
“Carey, wait!” he called, but Carey didn’t stop as he pushed through the doors leading to the patio. It was almost empty, the chill of the late-night air having driven most everyone back inside.
Abruptly, Carey whirled and grabbed onto Jase’s T-shirt with both fists.
Bracing for a shove, or a blow, Jase staggered when Carey instead yanked him into the shadows just outside a soft pool of light.
“Damn you,” he hissed, his eyes glittering. “Damn you, Jase.” Despite the harshness of his tone, Carey didn’t let go of him, his fingers twisted in the fabric of Jase’s shirt. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in pants, spots of color high on his cheekbones.
His heart thudding painfully in his ears, Jase deliberately took one step closer until their bodies were only inches apart. Carey turned his head away, but still didn’t let go, his grip tightening.
“Damn you,” he said again, but the words were without heat, softer, more like an exhalation. He dropped his head back to the wall, pulse throbbing visibly in the hollow of his throat. “Oh God. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” His voice was barely audible.
Blood racing, body trembling, all Jase could do was wait him out. At last Carey opened his eyes, the normally brilliant blue dark with emotion. His gaze clung to Jase’s, his lips parting as Jase started to close the last few inches of distance between them…
Gasping, Carey shoved him back, then yanked him close again in an abrupt motion that had Jase slamming his palms against the wall to keep from crashing into him. He looked down at Carey’s fists, still twisted in his shirt, and met his eyes once more.
“Let me go,” Jase said softly. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, push me away.”
For one heart-stopping second, Carey’s grip loosened, then tightened again. Leaning in until their lips were only a whisper apart, Jase breathed, “Let me go. If you don’t want me to kiss you—”
The rest of his words were muffled by Carey’s mouth, crushing his. Hot, slick, eager, Carey’s tongue slid deep, almost devouring him. With a hoarse groan, Jase slanted his head, his own tongue thrusting, parrying. They bit and licked at each other, their bodies straining…
Then Carey ripped his mouth free. “No.”
Struggling to focus, Jase staggered a bit when Carey pushed him away. For the space of several heartbeats, they stared at each other, chests heaving, Carey’s body tense and coiled, as if ready to flee.
Seeing it, Jase forced himself to blow out a long, slow breath, and crammed his hands in his pockets as he deliberately took another step back.
“I’m sorry,” Carey whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” With an effort, Jase kept his voice low, calm. “I was a more than willing participant.” He waited until Carey met his eyes. “You think I don’t want this? Want you?”
Carey shook his head wildly. “I can’t risk it. I can’t.”
“Oh, Carey. Risk what?”
His throat worked. “Losing you.”
“Losing me?” Jase took a step forward, but Carey put up a hand to hold him back.
“Three years ago, I did almost lose you. Over this.” He made a sawing motion between them.
“That was different.” Jase still kept his voice low, despite the emotion raging through him that made him want to shout at the top of his lungs. “This is—”
“It’s what?” Carey interrupted. “Unfinished business? Curiosity?”
Pain stabbed Jase down low. “Is that what it feels like to you? Curiosity?”
“I don’t know!” Carey shoved his hands through his hair, then linked his fingers behind his neck, visibly striving for calm. He met Jase’s eyes again. “But whatever it is, it’s not worth risking our friendship over. I can’t—”
He sounded so distressed that Jase dredged deep and summoned a smile. “Then we won’t risk it. We’ll forget this ever happened, okay? Chalk it up to temporary insanity or something.”
The relief that spread across Carey’s face made his heart ache. “Yeah. Okay.” Pushing off the wall, he brushed past him, muttering, “See you at home.”
After he’d gone, Jase collapsed into one of the soft chairs next to the firepit, his thundering pulse gradually slowing, leaving him drained.
That night on the couch. The night that had changed everything.
Carey’s anger, his grief, his emotional devastation, all of it had exploded into a desperate physical need, a need that Jase had willingly satisfied before holding him close.
Then the awkwardness, the walls Carey had thrown up around himself, walls that had shut Jase out until he’d had no choice but to leave…
Another memory surged, that of a cold Afghan night spent huddled together in a foxhole after a mortar attack on their tiny outpost. Unable to sleep, they’d whispered back and forth, stress and fear loosening both their tongues.
“This reminds me of high school,” Carey had murmured, to Jase’s incredulous snort.
“What? Sitting outside in the dark, in the freezing cold, reminds you of high school?”
“Yeah, it does.”
In growing horror, Jase had listened to his story, of an overwhelmed foster system that’d placed seventeen-year-old Carey i
n a rural Arizona home, miles from town and the nearest school. With no bus service, his foster mom had had little choice but to drop Carey off sometimes as early as four-thirty a.m. in order to make her nursing shift on time.
“She was a good person,” Carey had said matter-of-factly, “but her husband worked the swing shift, and there was no other way.”
One morning, shivering in the pre-dawn darkness and suffering from the sudden onset of a cold, Carey had looked up to see a man standing over him, a man who’d introduced himself as Mr. Carter, owner of a small café nearby.
“He invited me in, gave me some oatmeal and hot tea, and let me wait there until school opened.”
It was an arrangement that’d ended up lasting the entirety of Carey’s senior year.
“Mr. Carter was the first adult I’d ever trusted, and my only real friend.” Carey had turned his head in the darkness to look at Jase. “Until you.”
Until you.
In Carey’s world, trust wasn’t easily given. Friendship, never taken for granted.
He’d gifted Jase with both, and if for Jase, those precious gifts had turned to more, well, that was his problem now, wasn’t it?
Eight
The next morning, Carey woke feeling like he’d been hit by a train.
Too much alcohol, too much emotion.
And a kiss that’d knocked his socks off.
He wallowed on the bed, trying not to think about it, but the memory of Jase, the heat of his body so close, his lips on his…
Carey groaned.
Why had he pushed it? They’d gotten carried away on the dance floor, sure, but by storming off like that, by letting his confusion and jealousy get the better of him, he’d almost lit the match that could’ve ended up destroying the most important relationship of his life.
Slamming his pillow down over his face, he groaned again. If he’d just let the dance run its course, like Layla had—“Whew, that man can move! I think I came a little bit out there.”—they could’ve chalked it up to an alcohol buzz, elation over Wellman, and a fun night out.
Instead, he’d turned it into a thing.
The enticing smell of coffee wafted to his nose, and he sighed, gathering his courage. “C’mon, idiot. You can’t hide in here forever.”
Surprisingly, the kitchen was empty, although the coffee pot still gurgled. Before pouring himself a mug, Carey peeked into the living room, and caught his breath.
There, in a bright patch of sunlight, Jase sat unmoving on his yoga mat, eyes closed, legs folded. His spine was straight, hands relaxed, his bare chest lifted and moving with his breaths. “Come in if you want to,” he murmured.
His heart pounding, Carey crutched hesitantly into the room, then noticed another mat laid out next to Jase’s, along with what looked like some foam blocks, a folded blanket and a towel. A dining room chair was set nearby.
“I looked up some modifications to the poses,” Jase said. “If you felt like joining me.”
Laying his crutches aside, Carey awkwardly lowered himself to the mat. He crossed his legs, his stump on top, and rested his hands on his thighs. Jase had already begun his reflective breathing, so Carey followed his lead, remembering what he’d said about inhaling from low in his diaphragm, pausing for several seconds, then exhaling through his nostrils.
A tentative relaxation flooded him. Maybe it would all be okay.
During the joint and muscle warmups, Jase demonstrated each move, watching closely as Carey repeated them, his stiffness and awkwardness gradually fading as he grew looser.
Then Jase took him through some simple, basic poses. Carey found he could do most of them with help from the various props—the blanket beneath his residual leg to keep him in good alignment, the blocks for support, and the chair to either sit in or hold on to.
At the end, he was lightly drenched in sweat. “So different from just lifting weights in the gym,” he panted. “I’m actually smoked.”
Jase grinned. “It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?” Then he flowed effortlessly into his handstand, collapsing down on his side in laughter when Carey muttered, “Showoff.”
They lay back on their mats in savasana. Carey drifted for a while, enjoying the cool breeze from the open windows, and the sound of Jase’s even breathing next to him.
A loudly buzzing phone startled them both. Jackknifing to sitting, Jase groped along the coffee table until he found the source.
“Oh, hey, sis,” he answered with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” A pause. “Everything’s okay, Sami, geez. Just been busy.”
As Jase chatted with his sister, Carey hopped away to use the bathroom and snag them both bottles of water. When he returned, Jase was saying in a wry yet affectionate tone, “Sure, baby. Put your teddy on the phone and I’ll say hi.”
An apparently one-sided conversation with a stuffed bear ensued, and Carey dropped back to his mat, shaking with silent laughter.
Jase reached over and pinched him on the arm. “Shut up,” he mouthed. “She’s five.”
Ah. One of the myriad nieces and nephews. Carey’s heart swelled with envy even as he was touched by Jase’s patience and obvious love for his family.
“Okay, princess, gotta go,” he said finally. “Put your mom back on.” A brief pause. “Sami, I’ll get you for that! Okay, okay. Yeah, me too. Love you. Bye.” He tossed the phone back to the table, caught Carey’s eye, and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m cool Uncle Jase.”
“The coolest.” Suddenly curious, Carey asked, “Do you want kids of your own someday?”
“Maybe. With the right person.” Jase chugged some water, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “How about you?”
“Yes,” Carey said firmly. “Someday. Foster-to-adopt.”
Lying down on his side, Jase propped his head on his hand. After a brief hesitation, Carey did the same, facing him.
“Did you ever come close to being adopted?” Jase asked, his voice soft.
“Nah.” Carey shrugged. “I was twelve when my mom died, so I was older when I entered the system. Plus, I was angry—”
“Grieving.”
“Yeah.” Reaching out, Carey scratched his fingernail up and down the edge of the mat. “It’s hard to believe she’s been gone longer than I had her. Fifteen years…” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, not too many adoptive families were interested in an older kid with anger issues. I got passed around a lot, until I ended up with that family in rural Arizona.”
Jase nodded. “The town with that café you told me about?”
“Yes. The one Mr. Carter owned.” Carey closed his eyes, remembering that warm, bright little place and the man who’d been a model of true selflessness, the one who’d bestowed every ounce of the kindness and compassion he’d so sorely needed back then.
“Where is he now?” Jase asked quietly. “Did you keep in touch?”
Carey swallowed against the wave of guilt he always felt when he thought of Mr. Carter. “No. After that last day of senior year, after I graduated, I never saw him again. I left town. Didn’t even say goodbye.”
Jase’s eyes were filled with understanding. “I’d imagine goodbyes were pretty hard for you back then.”
The knot in Carey’s chest loosened a bit at Jase’s insight. “Excruciating,” he admitted.
There’d been so many. His mom. Foster families he’d grown fond of. Schools, teachers, childhood friends, even case workers he’d liked.
“The thought of actually saying goodbye to Mr. Carter…”
“I’m sure he understood,” Jase said gently. “If he knew you at all, he understood.”
“I hope so. Someday I’ll go back and visit him. Thank him. It’s on my bucket list.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jase raised his eyebrows. “Now I’m curious. What else is on this bucket list of yours?”
Carey grinned. “No way. Uh-uh. Tell me one of yours first.”
“Shit, that’s easy.” Jase flopped over on his back, arms flung over his
head. “Win a Grammy.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Oh, fuck, the very thought gives me goosebumps.”
Tearing his eyes from Jase’s pebbled nipples, Carey intoned, “‘And the Grammy goes to…’”
Jase shivered again. “Stop! You’re turning me on. God, can you imagine?”
“I can, actually.”
Jase turned his head to look at him. “Really?”
“After hearing you sing last night? Hearing the song you all wrote? Most definitely I can imagine you winning a Grammy someday.”
Jase rolled to face him again. “Well, if that producer takes us on, that’ll be one step closer.” He paused. “Thanks to you.”
“Me? No way. All I did was make a call. You guys did the rest.” Carey smiled. “You, my friend, are immensely talented, and maybe now the rest of the world will get to see what I see.”
“Ah, Carey…” Returning the smile, Jase whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Carey roamed his gaze over Jase’s ink-free torso and arms. “You, uh, might need to get a few tattoos, though, to look the part of the badass rock star.”
“Hmm, maybe.” Jase flexed his biceps. “I think I’m gonna start performing shirtless. Like Dan Reynolds of Imagine Dragons.”
If you did that, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the music.
For one breathless second, Carey thought he’d spoken aloud, but Jase just cocked his head inquiringly. “So? Whaddya think of that plan?”
Carey rolled his eyes. “I think you’d make a lot of fans really happy,” he said drily, to Jase’s delighted laugh.
Their eyes met, the silence stretching. Jase’s full lips were slightly parted, his stubble catching the sunlight. It’d be so easy to lean in, close the gap, and—
Clearing his throat, Carey said gruffly, “Well, I can hear that coffee calling my name…”
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