Everything Changes

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Everything Changes Page 17

by Melanie Hansen


  “Always and forever.” She made an ostentatious kissing noise. “Now go. Call me back when you talk to Wellman.”

  After she hung up, Jase stumbled into the living room, where he dropped to his yoga mat. Kneeling and sitting back on his heels, he rested his hands on his thighs.

  Kumbhaka pranayama.

  The breath work—the inhales, the controlled exhales—slowly gave him back a measure of control. He flowed into a difficult yoga sequence, one that required all of his concentration, flexibility, and strength.

  At last, his body exhausted, slick with sweat, Jase lay back in savasana. He tried to drift, tried to let go, but the images and impressions, the feelings, wouldn’t be suppressed. They battered furiously at the doors of his mind, demanding to finally be acknowledged, refusing to allow the peace, acceptance, and serenity that he could sense was there, somewhere, deep down inside of him.

  His yoga practice and his music always brought those good feelings closer to the surface, but yet, he couldn’t quite grasp them. Those rare times that he did, he couldn’t hold onto them.

  He had to make a change. Maybe Colorado was the answer, the missing piece of the puzzle. If he could surround himself with his community again, maybe he could find a way to soften those parts of him that he guarded so fiercely. Find a way to breathe some light into them.

  And let Carey in.

  Firming his jaw, a mixture of fear, anticipation, and hope swirling, Jase reached for his phone.

  Sixteen

  “Draw your hands up in front of you in prayer pose. Stay for the exhale.”

  Pausing in the doorway leading to the large wraparound deck, Carey couldn’t help but let out a long, slow breath in unison with the yoga students who stood feet together, palms held in front of their chests.

  He rolled his eyes at himself even as a pang went through him. Yoga in the pines. How Jase would love this.

  “Inhale, and on your next exhale,” the yogi continued softly, “bend your knees and come into chair pose.”

  Cradling his mug of coffee in his hands, Carey leaned against the doorjamb, watching. The early-morning yoga practice was well-attended, almost every mat taken.

  “Reach up overhead, rolling those shoulders open…”

  At the other end of the deck, a different yoga class was happening—acro yoga, or what the instructor liked to refer to as “yoga of trust.” Several sets of partners worked diligently, one the base, the other the flyer, as they balanced on each other’s hands and feet. Other couples worked as spotters, ensuring the flyer didn’t crash to the ground as they changed positions. Carey could hear lots of laughter and communication, and could almost see the trust building between them as the class went on.

  Another pang went through him, one that felt almost like envy.

  Pushing off the doorjamb, he wandered down the stairs of the main lodge and made his way across the pine-needle-covered ground toward the smaller building that housed the ranch’s admin offices, still thinking about Jase.

  Other than a few stilted texts the first day Carey was home, in the week since they hadn’t talked at all, and now he missed him with an almost physical ache.

  With a sigh, he let himself into the large, one-story building shared by all the admin staff. He rinsed his empty coffee mug out in the sink and headed to his office, stopping short when he heard his name being called.

  Changing course, he poked his head into the office on his left where Jesse Byrne sat in front of his computer, phone to his ear.

  “When did you get in?” Carey asked.

  “About an hour ago.” Byrney held up his finger as whoever he was talking to got back on the line. “I’ll be done in a sec,” he mouthed. “Wanna talk to you.”

  Nodding, Carey sprawled out in a chair, glancing as he always did at the photos that lined the walls. Besides the ones of Byrney and his husband, Trevor, there were several of their daughter, Serena, and on the corner of the desk, the most haunting one of all.

  The small black-and-white photo showed a young Army soldier sitting under some camouflage netting, the sunlight flowing through it dappling his face. He was smoking, one knee drawn up, an arm resting on it, his profile pensive as he gazed off into the distance.

  Almost reverently, Carey picked up the picture.

  Riley Estes, Byrney’s best friend and Trevor’s only son, had been killed in Afghanistan not long after the photo was taken. After the deployment, Byrney had been cleaning out his storage unit when he found a box of Riley’s things—a few small mementos left behind in their shared barracks room.

  Wanting Riley’s father to have them, Byrney had taken the box to Trevor at his home. As a result of that meeting, an unlikely friendship had sprung up between them, a friendship that eventually grew into love.

  “Everything okay?” Carey asked, setting Riley’s picture gently back on the desk when Byrney hung up the phone.

  “Oh, yeah.” Byrney took a huge sip out of a cup of iced coffee, the straw making a gurgling sound as it bottomed out. “Just finishing up the last details for the backcountry trip this coming weekend.”

  “Cool. So why did you wanna talk to me?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Byrney linked his fingers behind his neck. “Just wanted to see how your vacation was. You’ve seemed a little down.”

  Unlike Carey, Byrney didn’t live at the ranch, so they hadn’t really had a chance to talk since Carey’s return.

  “How was it? Well—”

  “Talk to me,” Byrney ordered. “What’s going on?”

  His eyes were steady, and before he knew it, Carey found himself telling him everything.

  By the time he’d finished, Byrney had steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, eyebrows raised. “First of all, I have to say that still waters run deep, son. I had no idea you felt that way about this guy.”

  Flushing, Carey said, “It took me by surprise, too. I mean, I’d never recognized it for what it was, until this week.”

  “I guess when you know, you know.” Byrney paused. “Do you know?”

  “Yes. I love him,” Carey said firmly. “He’s kind, funny, smart, a family man. Sexy as all hell, too.”

  He hadn’t meant to sound so fervent, but Byrney only laughed. “That is important. After all these years with Trevor, he still makes my heart skip a beat. I look at him sometimes and wonder how I got so lucky.”

  “That’s how I feel when I look at Jase,” Carey admitted. “And I know he loves me, too. It’s just, I feel him holding me at arm’s length sometimes, except when we’re—I mean, the physical intimacy is there, but the emotional intimacy isn’t, not the way I want it.” He made a helpless gesture. “I’m sorry. I’m not explaining this very well.”

  “You’re explaining it perfectly. The sex is great, and the emotions are there, but they feel shallow.”

  “Yeah, like rocks skipping along the surface. The thing is, I want all the stuff below the surface, too, but I’m not sure he even knows how to give them to me.”

  Byrney nodded. “Combat medics are tough nuts to crack. I’ve never seen people so good at compartmentalizing in my entire life.” He sat up straight. “Hey, there were a couple of last-minute cancellations for the trip this coming weekend. Want me to try and slot him in?” He reached for his computer mouse, but Carey held up a hand to stop him.

  “Nah. Don’t bother. He’s got plans that he’ll never in a million years break.”

  Carey told him about the band, and the studio time coming up.

  “Wow, okay.” Byrney leaned back. “Maybe the next one.”

  “Maybe.” Scrubbing his hand over his jaw, Carey burst out, “Did I do the right thing?”

  “You mean leaving?”

  When Carey nodded miserably, Byrney said, “Well, I suppose you could’ve done it a little more gently—”

  The memory of Jase’s stricken face made Carey flinch.

  “—but I also think if you’re considering shaking your life off its foundation, it’s okay to be
sure.”

  Despite himself, another burst of anxiety gripped him, and Byrney’s sharp eyes fastened on his face. “It’s okay to be sure,” he repeated softly. “If you did what you thought was best for you at the time, then it was one hundred percent the right thing.”

  Carey pinched the bridge of his nose, nodded, then stood. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime. And if you ever want to bring him up here for a retreat, I guarantee there’ll be a space for him.”

  With one last knuckle bump, Carey made his way out of the office. Instead of heading for his own, though, he detoured outside, where the crisp, cold mountain air tickled his nostrils, the sight of towering pine trees lightly touched by sunlight bringing a lump to his throat.

  God, this place was in his blood. He’d shed so many tears here, had learned so much about himself, about people, about life, in these last few years. He loved it here, and was loved. He had mentors, friends, a family he’d chosen and that had chosen him.

  Carey closed his eyes. He had all that in San Diego, too. And in San Diego, he had Jase.

  But if he moved down there, and he and Jase didn’t make it, what then?

  There are no guarantees in life, dumbass. You should know that better than anyone.

  “I do know that,” he argued with himself. “But if I can be vulnerable with Jase, and he can’t be vulnerable with me, where does that leave us when adversity strikes?”

  Like with Trevor and Byrney. The first year after their daughter Serena’s birth had been hard on Trevor. Even though Riley had been gone for almost a decade by then, Trevor’s grief had flared up, as fresh and all-consuming as the day it happened. The memories of the teenage father he’d been—with a fragile new life in his hands, a life that had been torn from him—had surged to the forefront and overwhelmed him with fear.

  He loved Serena, but he’d been afraid to fall soul-deep in love with her, afraid of loss, afraid that loving her meant replacing his love for Riley. His fear had carried over into his marriage, and Carey still remembered his shock when Trevor and Byrney had shown up at a retreat for Gold Star families—as participants.

  “We’ll get past this,” Byrney had said, lines of strain around his eyes and bracketing his mouth. “It’s time for a little help, a little guidance, that’s all.”

  The long weekend spent focusing solely on their relationship, on opening new lines of communication, had averted a crisis.

  “Even strong marriages need TLC from time to time,” Byrney liked to say. “We’re not afraid to ask for help when we need it. Not anymore. There’s too much at stake.”

  There’s too much at stake. And if Jase isn’t willing or able to ask for help now, where will that leave us during the hard times? I can’t uproot my life on a whim. I need more. I deserve more.

  The sound of crunching tires on gravel drew his attention, and he glanced over at the small paved visitors’ parking lot to see a dark blue minivan pull up. The driver’s door opened and a familiar woman appeared, her silky blonde hair caught up in a jaunty ponytail.

  “Hannah!” Carey exclaimed as he hurried over to greet her. “I didn’t know you and Eric were going to be here!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Hannah said as she gave him an enthusiastic hug. “The weekends up here help me keep my sanity.”

  “How’s Eric?” Carey asked, following her around the front of the van.

  “See for yourself,” she said, grinning, as she swung the passenger door open. “Honey, look who’s here!”

  Instead of a seat, the passenger side of the van was taken up by a motorized wheelchair. The man strapped into it gazed out at Carey, and then his eyes lit up. “Hey!” he said, awkwardly lifting gnarled fingers in a wave.

  “Hey, E-Dog!” Carey returned the wave, stepping back out of the way as Hannah pushed a button that activated the power lift. It swung out from the van and slowly lowered Eric, wheelchair and all, to the ground.

  Eric grasped his joystick and the chair lurched forward.

  “This conversion van has made all the difference,” Hannah said, watching him. “To be mobile again, to go places, be out and about. He even went on a tandem skydive the other day with some dudes from his old team.”

  “S-Sandy,” Eric said, nodding.

  “Yep, Sandy took you. His former platoon leader,” Hannah clarified for Carey. “About five of them showed up at the house one day, loaded Eric up in the van, and took him skydiving. It was great. Haven’t seen him smile like that since before his injury.”

  Eric was smiling now as he powered up the ramp toward the lodge.

  “You don’t even know how much he loves coming here,” she said. “Everything’s accessible, nobody pities him, or worse, acts like he’s not there. I love coming here because I can spend some time with people who are or have walked in my shoes. This place is a lifesaver, I mean it.”

  With one last squeeze to Carey’s arm, Hannah followed Eric’s chair up toward the main entrance, happy and enthusiastic greetings ringing through the air when people on the deck caught sight of them.

  A highly decorated Green Beret, Eric had been on his third deployment when an IED had exploded nearby and sent shrapnel ripping into his body and head, a piece lodging in his brain. Nobody had expected him to live, much less emerge from his coma, but he had, a torturous months’-long process that left him unable to move or speak.

  But Eric’s iron will, plus Hannah’s positive, upbeat caregiving, had led him to where he was now—mobile, increasingly verbal, his old personality starting to shine through.

  “Some people call us lucky,” she’d said to Carey one day. “But I just call us blessed. Blessed to be alive. Blessed to be together.”

  Blessed.

  “When I’m surrounded by marriage role models,” he whispered to himself, “how can I settle for less?”

  A pang shot through him, even as he firmed his lips. That didn’t mean he had to give up on Jase, though. Far from it. And it was past time one of them made the first move.

  Pulling out his phone, Carey called him, his heart thudding as he waited for him to pick up—or decline the call.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Carey suddenly became tongue-tied, everything he wanted to say frozen in his throat.

  Before the silence could get too excruciating, Jase came to his rescue. “What’re you doing?”

  “Working,” Carey rasped. “Counting my blessings.”

  “Yeah?” There was the barest hint of a smile in Jase’s voice. “Am I one of them?”

  “Only the biggest.”

  The quiet words hung breathlessly between them until Jase whispered, “God, I miss you.”

  “I miss you.” Carey swallowed hard. “And I’m sorry I left like that.”

  “I know.”

  “The reason I left, it’s because of confusion, not because I don’t—”

  Not because I don’t love you.

  “I know,” Jase repeated gently. “I understand. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past week myself. You were right about everything.”

  Shocked into silence, all Carey could do was listen.

  “I have been shutting you out. There are certain things I know it’s past time to deal with, but I’ve been avoiding them like the plague.”

  Carey managed to find his voice. “Jase, whatever those things are, you have to deal with them for you, not for me.”

  “How about for both of us? I was serious when I said I wanted a future with you, but I can’t expect you to make any more changes unless I’m willing to meet you halfway.” The breath Jase let out was a tiny bit shaky. “I’m gonna work on doing that, okay?”

  It was on the tip of Carey’s tongue to mention Byrney’s upcoming backcountry trip for medics, but he didn’t. Jase wouldn’t—couldn’t—let the studio opportunity go by. Carey just had to try and be patient, and trust that Jase meant what he said about meeting him halfway.

  “So what other blessings are you counting?” Jase asked soft
ly. “Besides me, that is.”

  Finding a sun-drenched wooden bench to sprawl on, Carey told him about Hannah and Eric.

  “I usually hate it when people call me ‘inspirational’ solely because of my disability, but there’s really no other word for what these two are. Eric wasn’t expected to live and now he’s going skydiving. If that’s not inspirational, I don’t know what is.” He sighed. “I feel blessed to know them, and I look up to them.”

  “That’s how I feel about Layla and Quinn,” Jase said. “I think they’re some of the realest people in my life. Honestly don’t know what I’d do without them.”

  They both fell silent, thinking of their friends, and then Jase murmured, “God, I hate to say it, but I need to go, sweetheart. Have to pick up my leathers at the dry cleaners, and then I’m meeting the guys for rehearsal before our concert set this weekend.”

  “Aw, okay. I really should get to work anyway.”

  Neither one of them made any move to hang up.

  “You in leather pants,” Carey said suddenly. “Another blessing I need to count.”

  “Ha. You naked.”

  Carey chuckled even as a bolt of liquid heat went through him. “Mmm. I think maybe you’d better go before we, uh—”

  “Have phone sex?” Jase said wickedly. “Well. I think I’ve found something else for my bucket list. Phone sex with you during broad daylight.”

  Carey’s cheeks flamed. “Stop it,” he hissed.

  “Why? You getting hard? I am.”

  A certain body part was definitely starting to show some interest, and Carey crossed his legs to hide it, even though there was no one around. “Nope.”

  Jase gave a low laugh, then sobered. “Just so you know, you being patient with me means everything. Seriously.”

  He hung up before Carey could reply, and with a sigh, he pushed to his feet and headed for his office. Time to throw himself into his work so he wouldn’t think about how much he missed Jase.

  And how long it might be until he saw him again.

  Seventeen

 

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