Page 33 of Everything Changes

“Most of them, yeah,” Jase replied, stretching and yawning so big his jaw cracked audibly. His face suddenly darkened, his lips tightening.

“What?” Carey asked, concerned.

“I’m just thinking of my best friend in high school, Jeremy Speer. He was my first love,” Jase said wistfully. Carey tamped down the irrational jealousy at the thought of another man with Jase. He forced himself to ask, “What happened to him?”

“He got married right before I reported to Pendleton,” Jase said. “I’d never seen two people so happy. Brent was perfect for him.”

Jase reached out and pulled Carey against his chest, holding him close.

“Brent was killed in a car accident only a year or so after their wedding. He had gone out to grab their dry cleaning, and a distracted driver ran a stop sign.” Jase shuddered. Carey threw his leg across both of Jase’s, tightening his hold, making soothing circles on Jase’s abdomen with his hand. He felt Jase kiss the top of his head and then continue, “That’s not the worst of it. They had a surrogate, and she was pregnant at the time of Brent’s death. A month later she lost the baby—a cord accident, just one of those things. Jeremy went off the rails, went down to Mexico and disappeared for at least a year. Drugs, drinking, who knows what else.”

“Jesus,” Carey said quietly.

“He reappeared one day, packed his shit up, and moved to Oregon, moving as far away from the memories as he could possibly get. I’ve tried to keep in touch with him, and we do talk occasionally, but I think it’s too painful for him to see me, knowing that I survived a war zone and his husband was killed just two fucking miles from home.”

Carey turned his head and kissed Jase’s chest. “Life is so goddamned unfair sometimes,” he whispered. Jase didn’t say anything else, just pulled Carey to him and held him tight.

CHAPTER 10

CAREY WOKE suddenly, not sure what had disturbed him. The room was still full dark, and Carey glanced at the clock to see it was 4 a.m. Jase was a reassuring weight beside him in the bed, and Carey pushed up on his elbow to face him, smoothing Jase’s hair back from his forehead gently with his hand. He recoiled as his fingertips encountered a cold clamminess, and he realized Jase was breathing hard, small moans breaking from his lips as he was caught in the grips of an apparent nightmare.

“No,” Jase muttered, thrashing his head on the pillow.

Carey knew from his counseling of veterans that waking someone up in the midst of a nightmare was a very foolish thing to do, especially someone who had been in a war zone and could be dreaming of all sorts of atrocious things. He’d seen husbands break down as they described crushing their wives’ nose in the midst of a dream and wives sob as they recounted waking up to their hands encircling their terrified husbands’ throats.

But Jase was in so much distress that Carey couldn’t stop himself, stroking Jase’s cheek with his hand as he said urgently, “Wake up, Jase. Please wake up.” He shook Jase’s shoulder gently and flinched as Jase’s eyes snapped open. They were wild, unfocused.

“C—Carey?” Jase said shakily as he struggled to pull himself from the grips of the nightmare, his breath harsh and rasping.

“I’m here, Jase,” Carey crooned, not getting too close but rubbing his hand soothingly over Jase’s chest. “Breathe with me, dude. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Jase continued to gasp as his body shook uncontrollably, and suddenly he bolted out of bed and ran for the bathroom. The sound of retching floated out to Carey’s ears, the heaves interspersed with sobs.

Carey flung the covers back and sat up, cursing as he realized his crutches were too far away and his prosthetic would take too long to put on; Jase needed him now. He stood up on his support leg, hopped as far as he could with the aid of the furniture, dropped to the floor and pulled himself with his arms the rest of the way until he reached the bathroom and Jase, who was hunched over the toilet, his back muscles tight as a drum as he continued to vomit.

Carey knew enough by now to know that touch calmed Jase during an episode, so he knelt behind him as best he could and enfolded Jase in his arms, rocking him, letting the warmth of his body try to ease him, murmuring in his ear, reminding him to breathe.

Eventually the severity of the attack eased, and Carey sank back to lean against the tub, Jase sprawled between his legs, resting bonelessly against him. Carey wrapped his leg around Jase’s thigh, anchoring him, and rubbed his hand up and down his chest and stomach.

“That’s good, Jase. Breathe. You’re okay. I’m here.” Carey kept up the litany of calming words, gratified to feel Jase relax further, rolling his head until his face was buried in Carey’s neck. Carey stretched up until he could snag the towel hanging from the rack above their heads, pulling it down and wiping Jase’s face with it, cleaning the sweat and traces of vomit off his face and chin.

“Carey, I’m sorry,” Jase gasped. “Let me up. I reek, and I—”

Carey’s arms tightened. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you smell like. Don’t move. Let me hold you.” Jase couldn’t fight what he needed and slumped back against Carey, letting Carey comfort him. Carey rocked him lightly, murmuring, “That was a bad one. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jase shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again. “I don’t know if I can, Carey. Oh God—”

“What do you need, Jase? Tell me what you need,” Carey urged. Jase sat up shakily, leaning forward and reaching into the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a small box from which wafted an unmistakable smell. His hands were trembling too much to open it, so Carey took it from him gently and opened the box, removing the half joint that was in there and the small lighter. He set the box aside and brought the joint to his lips, lighting it and sucking on it hard to get it ignited and burning before holding it up to Jase’s mouth.

After a few false starts, Jase managed to draw some of the drug into his lungs and hold it, steadiness slowly returning as he settled down. He took the joint from Carey and held it himself, taking long drags until it was almost gone, Carey still holding him close.

Jase finally tossed the butt in the toilet and sighed, his body relaxed. Carey ran the fingers of one hand through Jase’s hair, rubbing his scalp, scratching his nails across it gently, pressing.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his lips feathering across Jase’s cheek. Jase nodded, and they lay there quietly without speaking, Carey trying to ignore the increasing discomfort of the freezing-cold porcelain tub at his back, the hard floor tile that was making his ass numb, and the ache in his stump from the splayed position of his legs.

Finally Jase pushed himself up to standing, still a little wobbly but in no danger of falling, and he leaned down and lifted Carey upright. Carey winced as the blood rushed back into his ass and leg, and Jase reached around behind him and massaged the numb cheeks, holding him up until the pins and needles were gone from his support leg.

“I’m sorry, Carey,” he rasped.