Page 145 of The Bartender Special

The same paint brush he’d borrowed from the box in Callum and Benny’s garage for Roger’s nursery.

And instead of throwing it away, he was standing on their front porch feeling ten ways to complicated about it.

A week had gone by since the disaster at the auditorium. During that time, Jack had all but stayed in the apartment or in the bar’s office. Business was the best it had been in years, but most of the patrons who had come back as regulars wanted to give him a piece of their minds.

It was all Dixon, his uncle, and Santana could do to cover for him.

That, however, wouldn’t last forever.

Just like he’d been hoping that the stone in his stomach would eventually ease.

Instead, it somehow felt heavier.

Because you left Benny and then he left.

The shame in his chest wasn’t new, but clinging to the old paintbrush he’d found in his truck that morning was.

Just like the need to finally escape his escape.

Because it wasn’t just a paintbrush to him.

It was Benny.

That thought felt dumb and incredibly simplistic.

But it’s what got Jack moving.

Not before Dixon had gotten to him first, though.

“If you need to be Mopey Jack again because your heart hurts, I'm okay with that,” his cousin had said. “But—just so I know that at least one person has said it out loud to you—if you miss him, there's a really easy fix for that.”

Now Jack was standing at Callum’s front door and waiting for him to answer.

When he did, Jack finally admitted to himself that, if the paintbrush felt this important, then the man who’d given it to him must have been something damn fucking special.

He didn’t plan on saying those exact words to his brother though.

When Callum crossed his arms over his chest in greeting, Jack adopted Benny’s courage and blurted out exactly what he was thinking.

“Benny thought he was small for hiding behind a blog but, if that’s true, then I’m an inch tall for deciding that I was never, ever going to leave the bar. Dreams are one thing, passion is too, but I think when Benny admitted he’d been hiding all these years, I finally had to face the fact that a part of me has been doing the same thing.”

Jack hadn’t wanted to admit it but, once he had, he’d found himself meeting Felicity outside of the bar, in the same clearing Benny and him had originally struck their fake-dating deal.

“I didn’t compromise with us,” he’d told her. “That’s why we didn’t work out. It had nothing to do with the bar. With my dream.”

Felicity had looked surprised but then had shaken her head.

“It wasn’t that you didn’t compromise for us, it’s because you never wanted to.” She’d shrugged, smiled a little too. “I wasn’t any better. We both could have given in a little, understood each other some more, but we never wanted to. So, we just didn’t work out. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Jack had felt a weight lift then. One he hadn’t realized was there. Or, maybe, he had but ignoring it had been easier. Being mad at her, even easier.

Guilt had popped up then.

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” he’d said. “I’ve spent all this time blaming you for…well, everything. When I should have just said I’m sorry for my part too.”

Her smile had been soft.

“We both should have moved on sooner. Probably talked about it too.”