Page 120 of The Bartender Special

So, he watched the people who wanted space to entertain fight with their partners about the commute, nodded along with the real estate agents that gently reminded a few clients that paint colors shouldn’t be deal breakers, and picked up his phone long enough to Google search how much certain jobs paid to better understand how any of the hunters could afford their budgets.

It wasn’t until an episode with a young newlywed couple who were wanting to put roots down in North Carolina but couldn’t decide between the city or the suburbs, that Benny found himself wondering what he would do in their shoes.

What Jack would do.

Would he give Benny the city townhouse or be okay with settling down in the cookie cutter boxes with the neighborhood HOA?

A series of thoughts that, historically, should have produced a blush instead pushed a different kind of warmth into Benny’s face.

The fashion show the night before had changed something in him—in them—and Benny wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. They’d had fun preparing for it, even the parts where Jack had complained about the prices of costumes before him—and Ethan had argued about feathers behind them—while Benny had gone through the racks. And they’d had fun setting it all up.

That was to say nothing of the actual show.

Jack might have hesitated at first, but after his simple declaration of liking the noise, he’d let his hair down, so to speak.

The grumpy bartender had given them all a show and, with every step and laugh and ridiculous show of skin, Benny had seen it for what it was.

Jack Knox was fighting for his dream.

And Benny had wanted to do nothing more than help him.

That wasn’t even including his accidental Rapunzel rescue the few days before. The casual mention of blow jobs while hanging upside down. The laughter, the concern, the lack of scolding.

Jack hadn’t judged him then.

He also hadn’t judged him when Derrick had taken over Cassidy’s microphone.

Instead, he’d asked Benny to judge the rest of them.

By the end of the night, Benny had gone from stomach-twisting mortification to his stomach hurting from laughter.

Cassidy’s patrons hadn’t just distracted him from his pain, they’d shown him that he wasn’t alone. Everyone had that one story that was waiting to trauma-bond them to someone else’s embarrassing-something.

It wasn’t until they were riding home that Callum—drunk on a few too many fizzy, fruity, dangerously delicious Cassidy’s Specials—leaned over and said what Benny hadn’t yet put into words.

“You two are good together, you know?” he’d said. “I really like him, Benny. He—He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does? It’s always at you.”

Benny, who had also had a few by then, had felt giddy at the observation.

Now, sitting with a House Hunters episode about planning for the future, sober and alone, Benny thought his brother was right.

They might not be real, but he and Jack had managed to sync up more than they had fallen apart. Awkward moments of truth, small moments, spicy moments… Jack had handled them.

No. Handled wasn’t the word.

Jack had accepted them, lived in them, and hadn’t dwelled on any of it.

He’d gone with the flow, alongside Benny.

Was he treating Benny that way all because he was playing pretend, or was it how Jack actually felt, without any conditions?

Did he really smile at Benny when Benny didn’t notice?

There were no answers he could get sitting on the couch, alone, and by the time the clock hit ten, his questions turned to excitement.

Today was the day they were getting Roger Norman’s boat, which meant Jack—secret smiles or not—was going to be at his side soon.

Benny didn’t mean to, but he got ready for the event like he would a date. He checked his reflection three times, adjusted his clothes twice, and by the time the doorbell sounded, he didn’t realize just how dark the house had gotten.